[x] Have a quick lie-down on one of the platforms. Drills hopefully won't be able to find you down here.
This is a pretty heavy moment, we almost lost our footing, lets just stop and process. Cheese might, potentially, cross the bridge, but hopefully would have some difficulty getting to the underside of the bridge, and most probably wouldn't have a fun time following us if we dropped to the water.
Just when you thought it was safe to browse SV... *BLAM!* 2,500 words, straight to the face! Well, *technically* it's closer to 2,400, but that doesn't sound quite as funny.
Who saw that coming? certainly not me.
As much as you feel the urge to push forward and put as much distance between you and miss 'trigger-happy Mc-crazydrillhair' as you physically can, well… you're tired. Far more than you've ever been. Sure, you like napping quite a lot: there were days you spent nearly the entirety of either asleep or swatting whatever had woken you so you could get back to sleeping. Yeah, even you had to admit you were a tad on the lazy side. Probably still would be if it wasn't for the whole 'someone scary keeps trying to kill you' thing.
But this wasn't just 'fancying a nap' tired: It honestly felt like your limbs had all doubled in weight, like even standing, or, uh, hanging rather, was taking quite noticeable effort. Could you make it to the other side of the bridge? Probably. But is it really worth pushing yourself here, how far can you really expect to get afterwards?
Not far enough. No. You're better off resting here for now, At least until the exhaustion fades a bit.
The chorus of clanging resumed as you made your way to the nearest platform, albeit slower than before as befit your now more lethargic pace. A set of bars along the length made climbing up a touch awkward, but a bit of frustration-born clawing did plenty to weaken them, and from there either ripping them away or crushing them with the strength of your forelimbs was hardly a challenge at all.
With one final heave you pulled yourself up and flopped onto the flooring. It seemed to be more metal latticework, like the rest of the under-bridge, but on a far smaller scale. It would probably stop anything much bigger than a small pebble from falling through. Given how much larger you were than a big pebble it was a safe bet you wouldn't be falling through it either, and the bars you hadn't rather forcibly removed would likely stop you from falling over the edge, which in hindsight was probably why they were there.
The whole platform, by the looks part of an entire walkway spanning the width of the bridge for whatever reason, had twisted slightly during your efforts to clamber onto it, and the process of removing the guard-bars had clearly unanchored it from its nearest supports. But the walkway seemed to be holding itself up well enough anyways, at worst it just seemed to be swinging gently in the breeze, just enough to be noticeable.
It was honestly quite relaxing, kind of like that hammock back in the tunnels, though noticeably less comfortable than the soft whatever-it-was that the hammock had been made of.
Between the sudden bout of hereto unknown exhaustion, the gentle swaying, and even the surprisingly pleasant feeling of the cool breeze in your hair, It didn't take long for the quick lie-down to transition into a deep, night-spanning slumber.
---
The apartment door swung open, and Contractee-Tomoe M. Entered swiftly before closing the door behind her with her usual level of care.
She was a powerful Magi, she was skilled, she was an ideal recruiting agent, not that she fully realised that she'd been designated for such a role and thus granted more support than standard.
And according to the biometrics data her karmic foci was yielding: she was in an incredible amount of pain.
"Ah, Kyubey. I see you were waiting for me"
"Isn't that what friends do?" The body assigned to liaising with her replied.
The girl laughed softly in response, striding over towards the kitchen. That she was favouring her left leg did not go at all unobserved by the mind in control of the drone.
It was unsurprising given the number of fractures, ranging from minor to severe, and chips her right leg seemed to have suffered: the bruising patterns likely indicating a hail of small blunt projectiles as the cause. The collection of minor scrapes and puncture wounds around the main contusions further inferred the injuries to be caused by launched debris rather than a dedicated weapon.
"I can see you looking Kyubey. Don't worry, it's nothing really bad and It'll be fine by tomorrow."
An accurate appraisal of most of the injuries, her enhanced physique would repair the kinetic-caused damage within a few hours presuming she rested her afflicted limbs properly. The burns that lined her body-proper would probably take a bit longer as they ran a bit deeper. Organ damage was always longer in healing but would still heal fast enough, humans do only need one functional kidney after all, and the intestinal damage would merely cause reduced efficiency in its current state. By morning she should be fully functional.
Estimate two planetary rotations for full regeneration, seven at worst.
"Isn't that also what friends do?" the drone-body replied again, adjusting vocal timbre in emulation of human subjects who had said such things in the past.
"True." She replied, once more laughing in response. "true." Slightly uncharacteristic of her: raised endorphin levels were showing on biometrics, levels inconsistent with autonomous stress and/or pain relief. Conclusion: subject had achieved something she was proud of; More so than usual.
A moment later she returned, now carrying a cup of freshly made tea, an unusual and nutritionally inefficient beverage, and made her way to the table where the incubator was waiting patiently. She eyed the cushions, zabuton the records said they were called, speculatively and evidently changed her mind with a visible wince, the idea of kneeling on an injured leg clearly sounding less than appealing.
She shifted her gaze to the table, evidently considering a seat that would require less pressure on her injuries.
"You won't tell anyone about this, right?"
"Why would I?"
"Thanks" She replied, either avoiding the question or presuming it to be rhetorical. The latter option seemed more likely and as such warranted no further inquiry. "I'd rather not risk spilling tea on the sofa, and well…" She trailed off, slowly lowering herself onto the glass table that occupied the centre of her nondedicated living space.
Endorphin levels had not yet dropped: further investigation may be prudent. Verbal inquiry would likely be sufficient: Contractee Tomoe likely has no reason to conceal any recent events. "You appear to be in a good mood tonight, did your hunt go well?"
"Very well in my opinion. The witch put up quite a fight, but finally dealing with it was entirely worthwhile."
Pride at killing that particular witch? Within understood parameters: Humans are very easily motivated by perceived personal affronts.
"I bet; the lunch you'd packed yesterday looked nice."
Once again, Tomoe laughed. This one was different though, lower pitch and volume then previous laughter, presumably indicating a different emotion.
"It did, but that's not what I mean. Do you remember that time a year or so ago? when that witch almost killed me, the one with the mud and spiders?"
"Yes." The drone replied, while quickly pulling up the record of that conversation, swiftly rereading it just to be sure. "You had to leave once you got to the caves, too many traps and ambushes if I recall?"
"Correct" She replied, removing the grief seed from her pocket and placing it on the table. "I'm probably a bit happier about it then I should be, but it's a nice feeling to have finally resolved that bit of old business."
Understandable, Humans tend to hold grudges when things almost kill them. though why revenge seems to entice them so much despite how often it ends sub-optimally for them was yet another mystery. "I see. Congratulations."
The girl smiled again, emitting a series of sounds described by humans as 'chuckling'.
More important matters than assessing Tomoe's actions were at hand though; the seed should be identified for census purposes.
The crest didn't match the runes of any witch observed locally, which was of minor interest; the number of migratory witches generally wasn't high, though had been on the rise recently in this region, and no contractee's had succumbed to despair in the local area, or indeed were recorded in the local area save for the one present, unfortunately.
With a mental shrug, a connection with the Collective database was opened and the crest submitted for identification. The instant response was not abnormal. The number of warning tags attached to the profile was:
Specimen #0736869389584967596879222156703421
Do not redistribute. Reason; aggression beyond acceptable levels, displayed intellect beyond acceptable levels, contractee attrition beyond acceptable levels; observed to actively hunt contractees. Marked for priority termination.
Interesting. This specimen was last observed in the vicinity of Kamihama, coinciding with the loss of three contracted individuals within an hour of detection. It was originally located whilst in the process of vacating city grounds, speed and behaviour consistent with past withdrawals after high-loss encounters by this specimen.
The lost contractees were also noted to have formed and be operating in a team prior to loss of contact and presumed termination, and were logged as being lost within minutes of one another.
Conclusion; Specimen likely attacked the team and whilst victorious, was intimidated into withdrawal from the area. Presumably to rest and recoup losses suffered in battle.
Specimen clearly moved to Mitakihara and detected contractee-Tomoe M. subsequently engaging without considering strength of opposition, subsequent defeat, attrition of familiar population and escape via shedding barrier-layer presumably left specimen too weakened to attempt withdrawal again. Contractee-Tomoe M. subsequently pursued and successfully terminated specimen: Reporting specimen status to the collective and updating file.
"You seem very interested in this one Kyubey, do you know something about it?"
"A little, this witch has been troubling us for some time."
"Oh, really?"
"It was abnormally prone to wandering and has sightings across this country. It also had a knack for killing magical girls, as evidenced by its long life. Had I known it was in Mitakihara, I would have told you what we knew about it sooner."
"I see." The girl half-growled, and began to glare at the seed, "So why haven't I ever heard of it? rumours tend to spread about powerful witches."
"Rumours require survivors and as you have probably noticed, surviving this witch is significantly more difficult than normal."
The girl fell silent at that. Blood chemistry changes noted: new mixtures correlating with mild anger.
"I see. Well it's dead now." She said sharply, before emitting an uncharacteristic growl. "One of its familiars managed to slip away from me though, so I guess I'll have to put more effort into finding it before it can hurt anyone else-"
That was unfortunate. The risk of an offshoot being more dangerous than its progenitor was pronounced, and as such good that contractee-Tomoe had exterminated the majority of its offshoots. Still, it would have been very interesting and possibly quite informative to examine a few of them given how uncommon they were: While third generation witches were rare but well observed, A full grown fourth generation subject would be an almost unique specimen and of much interest to the collective, but deemed beyond acceptable risk to energy-gathering operations to acquire.
"- And besides, It's somewhat personal for me now" she growled once more, removing a ruined thermos from one of her pockets and all but slamming it into the table. "I liked that thermos."
Typical of humans: forming strong attachments to items of minor-to-no utility just because they were given to them by another specimen that they held some form of respect or affection for. Nonetheless, now was a suitable moment for some positive reinforcement.
"I'm sure you'll track it down quickly! There aren't many who can hunt witches and familiars quite like you."
The girl preened at the praise, drinking it in with the same almost-desperation she applied to her attempts to make friends, or encourage new contracts. She really was an Ideal contractee in that regard: Well worth the invested time and emotional support.
…
"I do have another question though Kyubey."
"Oh?" Unusual, Tomoe normally either becomes silent for some time after praise or lapses into conversing about minor subjects of no significance.
"Have you ever heard of a familiar without a barrier?"
---
An uncomfortable feeling of warmth and brightness stirred you from your blissful slumber, despite your best efforts to ignore it.
This happened sometimes: if you slept too late in the day then the sun would start to beat down on your favourite little nest, forcing you to either head deeper into the caves in search of a comfortable mud-free spot to resume your nap, or else go out and do… whatever, searching for trinkets? Hunting Tyyren and Glyt? All the same in the end: almost tedious, but it wasn't like there was much else to do around here.
With a grumble, you begin to stretch and wake your still half-asleep limbs, shooting a baleful glare at the eye-searingly bright yellow-orange orb that had dared bring your nap to an end.
Wait… yellow-orange? Not pink?
That's not right- Oh, yeah. You're not in the barrier anymore.
Something squarked at you indignantly from where it had apparently perched itself on your back, before evidently choosing life in the face of an imminent swatting and flying away with great haste. Huh, maybe you aren't the only thing in the whole of existence with survival instincts. Now if only they could spread back to your 'kin' back home…
Ah, right: no home, not anymore.
Moving on: you are definitely feeling a little better than you were. You're still kinda tired, but you get the feeling it's not the kind of tiredness that resting will solve… You still feel like you need something. More so than you did before your unplanned sleeping session. In fact you'd almost say you were hungry, which honestly is a new feeling.
You eye the flying-things speculatively for a moment but somehow you doubt they'd make a good snack, what with being hard to catch, keeping their distance, and actively watching you. Plan eat-the-flyers is clearly a no-go at this time, though knowing your luck they'd probably taste like boot even if you did manage to catch one.
Still, upside: you haven't been brutally murdered in your sleep! So, clearly Drills ability to track you isn't perfect. Or else, she simply couldn't find a way down here. Either option is honestly quite relieving to consider.
A full grown fourth generation subject would be an almost unique specimen and of much interest to the collective, but deemed beyond acceptable risk to energy-gathering operations to acquire.
