Welp, there's a year to reveal our reactor. Probably want to do things like improve security in that time just in case.
Of course that would be what S asks about with the roll of 69.
Granted at one moment just got a sudden sense of Deja vu so that was a thing.
Omake: NAE's thoughts on seemingly really fucking good reactor
The Secretary of Energy walked into the meeting, grumbling to himself as he shuffled folder, the items, or rather, singular item talked about in them far too important to simply put online for any hacker to find, he'd been fucking sleeping with the damn things to make sure they didn't get stolen they were that important!
As for what had his boxers in a jiff, why what else but a supposedly experimental reactor design by Skynet that had more power output than any modern reactor... by multiple fucking times over! It was revolutionary, the President, VP, and other department head also agreed, and hence this meeting was set up to go over the notes he'd been taking, or rather, guesses for the most part, they'd been extremely tight lipped about the actual plans, annoying, but actually kind of relieving seeing as it meant Spec-Ops, as the temporary CEO of Skynet was previous NAE Spec-Ops, were able to keep their mouths shut when needed.
As for the ones who were most interested in the reactor, and actually hoping it would be able to be built, because no way would it already be built, someone would have spoken out by now, taken credit, something, but no, none of that, so it was more than likely still in the planning phase, at most early construction, were himself, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of Commerce, and the President and Vice President. Of course, the others were also interested, but it varied from minor to moderate, with the formerly mentioned being the ones majorly interested.
But, enough of the internal monologuing, he had a meeting to get to, funds to argue over, funds to assign, funds to yeah, he was going to stop there, he'd have an aneurism thinking of the upcoming quarterly work, but yes, go discuss reactor possibly, pray it fucking works, cause if so his department is going to be getting so much fucking money shoved his way for him to play with it'll be fantastic.
Not that much surprised.
All of it pretty much got eaten by the Traveler roll.
Also, while I write, what exactly is the difference between the following in regards to when we unveil our CFR.
Renting, leasing and selling the desing.
Also, while I write, what exactly is the difference between the following in regards to when we unveil our CFR.
Renting, leasing and selling the desing.
Renting is a temporary selling of the excess power for a set number of turns. Leasing is reserving the full power with an appropriate exchange of funds and services, with the leaser getting our two free dice and the power in return for 3 MD, RD, or OD of our choice until the lease is up in addition to Resources. Selling the design is a flat influx of cash and a permanent free dice added to our pool.
Not that much surprised.
All of it pretty much got eaten by the Traveler roll.
Also, while I write, what exactly is the difference between the following in regards to when we unveil our CFR.
Renting, leasing and selling the desing.
Yes. Again, the vote was set up so that the traveler would be rolled first. There wouldn't have been a reroll left for head of security if it hadn't succeeded with the second reroll.
Yes. Again, the vote was set up so that the traveler would be rolled first. There wouldn't have been a reroll left for head of security if it hadn't succeeded with the second reroll.
That's why there are two red dialogues and one blue. Two failed rolls and one success.
You stand in the middle of a battlefield shrouded in an oppressive darkness, the air thick with the acrid stench of blood, gunpowder, and decay. The weight of your weapon presses heavily in your hands, your gear dragging at your body as if the earth itself is trying to pull you under.
Each step feels unstable, the ground beneath you soft and uneven, like walking across the corpses of the fallen. It's a familiar scene, one you've endured countless times before, but this time, something feels fundamentally wrong, alien, as though the battlefield itself is alive and hostile.
Then, faintly at first, you hear it. A song. Not a melody with words, but a haunting chorus of sounds—notes that seem to weave directly into your mind. The tones are dissonant yet strangely compelling, stirring something deep within you. They carry a siren-like quality, urging you to let go of restraint, to release your rage and give in to the primal urge to destroy.
Ahead, there's movement. Shadows coalesce, forming into shambling figures emerging from the gloom. They wear tattered uniforms, their bodies twisted and grotesque, their faces partially obscured by the darkness. But you recognize them. Every single one. These are the enemy soldiers you've killed, their lifeless forms now reanimated, glowing green eyes burning with an unnatural light. Their guttural moans, hollow and echoing, claw at your ears. Somehow, over the cacophony of battle, they speak your name.
You grip your rifle tighter and fire. Each shot tears through the decaying flesh of the advancing horde, ripping them apart, but they don't stop. They never stop. They swarm closer, surrounding you, their glowing eyes and grotesque features dragging you back into the memories of every kill you've made. Guilt and rage war within you, and the weight of it all presses down like a suffocating shroud.
Oddly, you notice that your rifle never runs out of bullets, never jams. No matter how many rounds you fire, it keeps going. Another realization dawns: the song. With every kill, its volume grows, rising to a fever pitch. The sounds crescendo, a maddening symphony that syncs with the rhythm of your violence. It's as though the battlefield itself feeds on your rage and despair, urging you to keep going, to kill and kill again.
The enemy soldiers close in, their glowing eyes boring into your soul. You fire again and again, but they don't stop. The weight of their numbers bears down on you, and the chorus of the song builds to an unbearable intensity. Just as you feel you're about to be consumed, the ground beneath your feet shifts and gives way.
You're falling now, tumbling through a void. The battlefield above spins away into the distance, the cacophony of screams and gunfire fading into a suffocating silence expect for the song becoming like a background echo. For a brief moment, you feel weightless, suspended in the darkness.
Then, out of the void, they appear. Three glowing green eyes pierce through the oppressive blackness, their eerie light cutting into you like blades. The gaze is unrelenting, searing into your very soul. Beneath those haunting eyes, a grotesque smile slowly emerges—twisted and curling with malevolent intent, as if it knows every one of your secrets and delights in them. The sight paralyzes you, your limbs frozen as dread creeps up your spine.
The darkness tightens its grip, swallowing everything around you, and then it happens again. You feel yourself tumbling, spinning uncontrollably as if gravity itself has betrayed you. The glowing eyes and the sinister smile vanish above you, retreating into the void as an oppressive silence falls. The haunting melody, faint and incomprehensible, that had accompanied your descent also ceases, leaving you alone with the deafening quiet.
After what feels like an eternity of freefall, you stop abruptly. There's no crash, no impact—just a jarring stillness. Your eyes snap open, and you find yourself lying on the ground, your chest heaving as you gasp for air.
The surface beneath you is cool and solid, unlike the shifting void you had been trapped in. With a groan, you push yourself up, your body trembling as you take in your surroundings. This isn't a battlefield. Far from it.
You stand in a room.
You would say it looked like a normal room, but there was something about the room that did not feel right. The air itself felt thick and heavy, pressing down on you with an unseen weight that makes every breath a struggle.
"What the hell…" You mutter, your voice echoing faintly in the oppressive stillness. You turn in slow circles, trying to make sense of the space, but there's nothing here, no sign of an exit, no indication of where you are.
Then, something changes.
A door materializes on the wall in front of you, its edges outlined by the same strange light that saturates the room. It appears seamlessly, as if it had always been there, waiting for you to notice. Before you can decide whether to approach, the door opens with a soundless motion, revealing a figure stepping through.
Your breath catches in your throat.
It's her.
Gale.
She's wearing a black dress, or rather something that might be called a black dress if you were technical. It clings to her like a second skin, made of a glossy material that shimmers faintly under the strange light. Straps crisscross her sides, exposing glimpses of her skin in a way that's both artistic and devastatingly provocative. The neckline plunges daringly, leaving little to the imagination, while the high-cut design elongates her legs, which seem to go on forever. She moves like she knows exactly the effect she's having, her black heels clicking softly against the smooth floor.
This is the first time you've seen her like this, and it's impossible not to mentally catalog every detail. The choker around her neck glints with a small, polished jewel that catches the light like a predator's eye. Gloves sheath her hands, completing the look with an elegance that borders on lethal.
The Gale standing before you could easily be described as a walking, sex symbol. Heads would turn. Conversations would stop. Men, women, anyone—she'd claim their attention without trying.
Her presence is intoxicating, almost otherworldly, and her smile... it's nothing like the smiles you've seen on her before. This one is confident, teasing—predatory in the way it seems to unravel you.
You glance away, desperate to collect yourself, but it's futile. Your gaze is pulled back as if by gravity. The dress, the way she wears it, the way she moves, it's utterly consuming. You can't tell if it's her or the charged air in the room that's making it so hard to breathe.
"John." She says, her voice soft and sweet, dripping with something that makes your skin crawl. She approaches, her movements slow and deliberate, and you back away instinctively, your hands raised in protest.
"Gale, what… how are you here?" You manage to stammer, your voice trembling.
"You've been working so hard." She purrs, her fingers trailing along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. "You deserve to relax. To enjoy yourself."
She's close now, too close, and though you try to resist, to push her away, there's a part of you that falters. Her touch is intoxicating, her presence overwhelming. You're losing control, your protests dying in your throat as she presses against you, her lips brushing your ear.
And then it changes.
Her form begins to shift, her skin darkening as a red aura envelops her. The light in the room dims, the air growing colder. Her eyes burn like embers, and her smile twists into something cruel, mocking. She steps back, her voice sharp and cutting now.
"You couldn't protect me. I took you in when you were out and this is how you repay me." She says, her tone dripping with disdain. "All your strength, all your skills, and yet I'm dead. What kind of protector are you?"
"I tried." You say, your voice cracking under the weight of her words. "I did everything I could."
"Did you?" She sneers, circling you like a predator. "Or were you too busy trying not to blame yourself? Too wrapped up in your own self-importance to see what was happening?"
She steps closer, her presence suffocating. The temperature in the room drops, the icy air clinging to your skin. Her burning eyes narrow, boring into you as she leans in. Her voice drops to a venomous whisper, each word a dagger. "And don't think I've forgotten what you saw when you found me. My body, left in that exposed, humiliating state…" She pauses, her lips curling into a grotesque, predatory grin. "A part of you enjoyed it, didn't you? Seeing me like that. Vulnerable. Powerless."
She strikes a pose that accentuates her figure, drawing attention to her exposed skin. "I wonder what crossed your mind when you stumbled upon me. Were you surprised, maybe shocked, to discover that the friend that saved you was a secret sex fiend? Or was it embarrassment? Embarrassment that I was exposed, that my hidden desires killed me, and that you were the one left to deal with it by covering it up?"
You stumble, your legs weak beneath you. "I was trying to protect you!" You shout, desperation cracking your voice. "To protect everything you built!"
Her hollow laughter fills the room, echoing in impossible ways, as if it's coming from all directions. "Protect me? Or protect yourself? Admit it, John." She hisses, her voice a terrible, serpentine growl. "You didn't do it out of loyalty. You did it because you were afraid. Afraid of being remembered as the man who failed me, afraid of losing everything I gave you. You're not a hero. You're just a pathetic little man scrambling to hold onto to power."
Her accusations tear into you, exposing wounds you thought had long scarred over. You try to respond, but the words die in your throat. Your breaths come shallow, your vision blurring as the room twists and warps, the walls bending inward like a vortex.
"You're no different from the rest of them." She snarls, stepping closer. "All those men who looked down on me, who thought they were better, stronger, more deserving of what I built. You tell yourself you're better, that you're different, but deep down, you're just another broken piece of this system. Just like me."
The red glow flares again, so bright it blinds you. You shield your face, falling to your knees, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a physical force.
"I didn't mean for any of this!" you cry, your voice cracking under the strain. "I just… I just wanted to do what was right."
Her laugh is sharper now, cutting through you like shards of glass. "Right? There is no 'right,' John. There's only survival. And you? You'll carry this with you until it crushes you."
You can't tell if your mind is truly breaking or if reality itself is bending in ways you can't comprehend, but you swear there's something wrong with Gale's shadow. It doesn't match her slender frame at all. Instead, it stretches out on the ground in a grotesque form—a hulking silhouette, far larger than her, with a bizarre cone-like head crowned by a single, staring eye.
Behind it, writhing in impossible patterns, are several thick, sinuous tentacles, moving as though alive. The more you focus on it, the more it seems to shift and pulse, like the shadow itself is aware of your gaze, daring you to acknowledge its horrifying presence.
Suddenly, the laughter stops, replaced by a sharp, agonized scream as a blinding white light floods the room. You shield your eyes, the intense brilliance cutting through the oppressive red aura like a blade. Gale, or the thing wearing her face, stumbles backward, her mocking visage twisting in pain. The crimson aura around her flickers and fades, as if retreating from the purity of the light.
Also the shadow behind her seemed to be suffering as well as it moved around like it was in pain.
The suffocating weight on your chest begins to lift, each breath coming easier, the chill in the air dissipating. The room itself seems to respond to the light, its walls stabilizing, glowing faintly with a calming luminescence.
Gale's form writhes violently, her once-commanding presence reduced to chaotic spasms of fear and anger. Her screams, a mix of terror and rage, echo through space, reverberating with a primal intensity.
"NO!!! Impossible, how are you here!!??" She yells, her voice trembling under the weight of the impossible sight before her.
"He is not yours, Gardener, he is ours; his soul is stained with death and despair!!!" She shrieks, her voice cracking with desperation. The words hang in the air, venomous and filled with centuries of wrath, yet they falter against the growing radiance.
The red aura around her surges desperately, a final effort to assert dominance. It pulsates, flaring like a dying star, trying to engulf everything in its path. But the white light opposes it with unyielding intensity, a divine force that seems to push back the very fabric of Gale's being.
She screams louder, her voice a guttural wail as cracks begin to form across her body, glowing white-hot as though the light itself is breaking through her. The red aura shudders, flickering like a candle in a storm, before it collapses inward. Gale's figure begins to dissolve, her corporeal form disintegrating into shards of crimson light that spiral upward and evaporate into the void.
Amid her fading cries, a single whisper pierces through the chaos.
It was female and faint but deliberate, firm with a strength of authority.
"No."
The word resonates, carrying the weight of finality and judgment.
Gale's figure shatters, her body breaking apart like fragile glass under the relentless weight of the light. The monstrous shadow that loomed behind her, an abomination that fed on fear and despair, cracks as well. Fissures spread across its grotesque form before it bursts into a million fragments, each dissolving into nothingness.
The room falls into a heavy silence. The oppressive darkness that once dominated the room was gone, replaced by a gentle, ethereal glow. The air feels lighter, cleaner, as if an ancient curse has finally been lifted.
You fall to the floor, your back hitting the cold surface as you lie there, unable to move. Your body feels heavy, as though the remnants of the words Gale said still cling to you, but you can sense something changing.
The light intensifies around the room, its healing warmth slowly seeping into you, bit by bit. You keep your eyes closed, unwilling, or perhaps unable to face what might come next.
Then, you feel your head shift slightly, resting against something soft. A familiar scent washes over you, gentle and soothing—lavender. Slowly, you open your eyes.
Looking down at you with a soft smile was Gale. But this isn't the twisted, mocking form from before. This is different. She's wearing the casual clothes she favored when not in the office, a look that brings a pang of nostalgia. Her entire form is bathed in a white aura, the light radiating from her serene and comforting.
You blink, your guard slipping away as something deep inside tells you this Gale is real, the true one. She gently strokes your hair, her touch light and reassuring.
"It wasn't your fault." She says softly, her voice steady and filled with compassion. "None of it was. No matter what you've done, John, you're a good man."
The words, despite being short and simple; pierce through the layers of guilt and self-doubt you've carried for so long. You feel the tension in your chest ease as a warmth spread through you, a warmth you hadn't realized you were desperate for. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to believe her words, and with that belief comes a glimmer of peace.
You remain still, unwilling to move, unwilling to break the serenity of this moment. Lying there, cradled in the comforting presence of the true Gale, you feel the world's weight fade away bit by bit. It's a fragile peace, but one you cling to with all your heart.
But then, a faint dizziness begins to take hold. Your limbs feel light, almost weightless, and a subtle hum fills the air. Something was changing.
Gale's soft smile doesn't falter. She continues to stroke your hair, her voice calm and steady. "Your time here is ending." She says gently. "You have to go back."
"Back?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean?"
She leans closer, her eyes filled with warmth and trust. "John, regardless of what you do, I trust you to take care of my legacy. Ensure that my baby daughter continues to grow under your care."
You stare at her, confusion and realization battling in your mind. "Your… baby daughter?" You repeat, and then it clicks. She's talking about S.
Her hand rests gently against your cheek, tracing your scar with her expression softening further. "She's precious, John. More than you realize. Don't let her be lost to the darkness. Guide her, as you've guided so many before. She's stronger than you think, but she still needs you."
The hum around you grows louder, and the white light begins to intensify. The dizziness worsens, and you feel yourself being pulled away, as if the very fabric of this dream is unraveling. Panic flickers in your chest, but Gale's presence keeps it at bay.
"Wait." You manage, your voice trembling. "Gale…"
She places a single finger against your lips, silencing you with a gentle shush. Her smile remains steady, even as the world around her begins to fade. Gale lifts her free hand into the air, and from it materializes a glowing blue cube, its edges pulsating with faint light.
The sight jolts something in your memory, it looks remarkably like the Tesseract from those old comic book movies you like to watch.
Gale brings the cube down, holding it in front of you so you can see its intricate, shifting patterns of light. "Before you go." She says softly. "I want to give you something. A gift. Consider it a way to make your path ahead a bit more… glamorous."
She places the cube in your right hand, its surface cool and smooth against your skin. As it settles, you feel a faint vibration, a warmth spreading from your palm into your arm, a sensation both comforting and invigorating. Gale's eyes meet yours, filled with trust and a bittersweet finality.
"Goodbye, John." She whispers, her voice carrying both resolve and tenderness. "Take care of my legacy, and tell that dummy friend of mine, Mihaylova, that my baby S is better than her boy R."
Her words linger in your ears as the light overtakes you completely, its warmth engulfing you, carrying you away from the dream.
You wake with a sharp gasp, your body jerking upright in your office chair. The room around you is dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the large windows behind your desk and your computer screen. Outside, the night has fully settled in. For a moment, you sit there, dazed and unsure of your surroundings. Then, the memories of the dream come crashing back, vivid and overwhelming.
You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. Gale's voice still echoes in your mind, her trust in you both comforting and crushing under the weight of what she'd asked of you.
You mutter to yourself. "I need to stop working overtime here. This is the tenth nightmare I had this month." Brushing off the emotional storm with used practicality. Yet, the last thing you remember doing before nodding off nags at your thoughts: S telling you she'd be undergoing an upgrade and would be unavailable for a full day.
Your musings are interrupted by an odd sensation in your right hand. Looking down, your heart skips a beat. Resting in your palm is a glowing blue cube, the very same cube Gale had given you in the dream. It's cool surface pulses faintly with a rhythm that seems almost alive.
"What the fuck?" You whisper, your voice trembling. Before you can think too hard, a soft ping draws your attention to your computer screen, thinking that S was back online. You lean forward and feel your breath catch when you do not see S being active but rather something else.
There, displayed in precise diagrams and detailed text, is the very same blue cube, labeled simply as Glimmer. The text outlines its purpose, its capabilities, and—most shockingly—details how the Glimmer functions as programmable matter.
It explains that through the use of specialized programs and machinery, Glimmer can be transformed into virtually anything—elements, liquids, even fully finished products. However, the amount of Glimmer required varies depending on the complexity and scale of the transformation.
Included was the schematics on how to build the machines that create Glimmer from direct energy, even a machine that if you feed it any physical stuff, it would break it down and convert it to Glimmer.
Your mind races, struggling to process what you're seeing. Was this some leftover remnant of the dream? A trick of exhaustion? Or something far more profound? As you place the cube on your desk, your gaze lingers on it, its faint glow casting long shadows across the room.
And then there's that scent. Lavender. It lingers faintly in the air, unmistakable and soothing, and confusing as you knew that it's been months since the last of Gale's scent had been gone from the office.
You lean back in your chair, staring at the cube as questions swirl in your mind. One thing is certain, your world has just become much stranger, and Gale's legacy might be far greater than you'd ever imagined.
Reward:
John is a Speaker*
Survived encounter with the Darkness*
Been gifted with the existence of Glimmer.
*(Not that he knows)
====================================================
And as you can see, my Blackwatch dice strike again.
Would like to thank Cyber for his help in this entry. Though I somehow got the inspiration to finish this after seeing Werewolves on Friday (A bit slow, but I enjoyed it. 8/10)
Now to be on the safe side, I will simply explain what happened above:
First, Xivu is 'testing' John out for obvious reasons for the last weeks in his dreams.
Then Nezarec comes in for a turn, and sends in a Nightmare in the form of Gale to torment and break John.
Normally John would have been strong enough to endure but the testing done to him by Xivu for weeks slowly weakened him and the fact that it was the face of Gale, it was too much.
Note that it's confirmed that Nezarec was already on Earth before the Traveler arrived, with a cult and all.
Cue the Traveler appearing and banishing the Nightmare and Nezarec from John's mind.
And to heal John, the Traveler makes the Memory of Gale come to life and simply talks to him and comforts him.
The Memory gives John a gift in the form of Glimmer.
So John is a certified Speaker, which he does not know; but at the same time; the bad guys know that as well.
Luckily for him, Traveler knows and since she is not injured, she has her full power at her disposal to protect him.
From now on, there will be an action to dream with the Traveler but it will cost now.
Now, John has at his disposal Glimmer way earlier than in-canon, AND bye-bye 3D Printing once we get it up and running in the factory. Kora is going to be between being happy and wanting to strangle John when he tells her how he got it.
At least we don't have to worry about Clovis getting its hands on it first since in canon, Glimmer was apparently an accident after his daughter Willa created Engrams.
Since there is hardly any in-universe data on Glimmer besides that it's a programmable matter that can be transmuted into nearly anything, I will be taking liberties with it. Since we can take apart items to create glimmer from them, expect a machine that we throw stuff in it (ex. trash) and out of it comes Glimmer.
And for the record, English is my second language, so if you see errors, you know why.
In regards to Gale's AI pictures that I made, since I used the fixed seed for the pictures I made for Maria Hill in Cyber's SHIELD quest, I guess you can say that Gale's face claim is that of Cobie Smulders.
Oh, and regarding the picture of the room.......yes.
Wow, now we have the full cast, the vanguard and a speaker of the destiny franchise. We are so going to take good advantage of the glimmer for sure, maybe to make more and to make advances in technology to make good profit as the CEO of Gale's legacy.
What I have taken from this, especially with hard confirmation that Xivu Arath already knows that the Traveller is here, A Second Warmind is not the answer long term.
S must be something more, something different, than what Rasputin became.
I vote for something like this for his future armor, mainly since he's ex special forces, he'd prefer to be in armor and have a multipurpose rifle or battlerifle along with explosives, a sidearm, knives, etc. Plus the built in trenchcoat is just badass and adds extra imposing to it. Also ironically I think the colors fit, cause he got screamed at by the Darkness, and with then the Traveler bitchslapped it.
That would be a great idea, if our character John was the speaker at the last city in cannon, then he would for sure be much different then the one in cannon as that he would be much more armed to defend himself and others.
That would be a great idea, if our character John was the speaker at the last city in cannon, then he would for sure be much different then the one in cannon as that he would be much more armed to defend himself and others.
