- Location
- Elsewhere
Hmm. It must be on the extended soundtrack then. That one has the hummed versions of the bgm and two Processed tracks
Hold It In (RWBY/Transistor)
- Thread starter Prok
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- A state of cleverness
IIRC She Shines is only in the AppleTV version of the game. I'm not sure it's even IN the PC version, even the sound test.
- Location
- Hell
- Location
- Elsewhere
...Strange...I have She Shines.
- Location
- Hell
What version? Because
PC does not have it.
- Location
- Elsewhere
PC actually.
Omake: Ready: Run (PARTIAL CANON)
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
God damn you, @Captain Clever , for beating me to the punch.
That said? Have my take on a few things.
Ready: Run
"-he's been far too quiet. It's nice to have some peace in the house, but it's not normal to monofocus on a single topic like this." The woman shakes her head, sadly. "Do you think he's still... affected?"
Her husband leans back on his chair, his expression only barely hiding his exasperation with the topic. "He's young, Anne. They bounce back quick at this age."
She sends him a tired smile. "It's just... he'd normally have moved on to a new obsession by now. Is it because of an unlocked Aura...?"
The front legs of the chair clack against the kitchen tiles as he stops leaning backwards. "By eight? It's not actually that uncommon in Huntsman families. I'm pretty sure his 'Semblance' is just imagination, though. That would be unusual."
She reaches forwards, to hold her husbands hand-
-and the door to the kitchen slams open. "Nuh-uh! It's totally real! I can make the numbers do things!"
"Jaune. Arc." He gulps. "Why aren't you asleep, at this hour?"
He wriggles in place, looking down. "Violet said my books were dumb. I couldn't sleep."
His mother kneels before him, bringing her face down to his level, and the boy collapses into her. "I don't know if numbers are your semblance, sweetie, but I'll support you all the way, just the same." He makes a noise of protest, but doesn't extract himself from the hug.
He sits, sullenly, in the back of the classroom. He told the other children about what he can make the numbers do, but no matter how hard he tried, none of the others could see what he sees. So now he hunches in on himself, concentrates on the mathematics, and hopes to be ignored. Better that, then to be called a liar. Again.
The teacher walks in, and it's not the usual one. He's seen Ms. Platt before, teaching the older students. She's probably here as a substitute. He shuts his book, uncertain if she'll uphold the same detente of letting him quietly read that he normally enjoys. In math, he's far ahead of the curriculum, and for everything else, it's not as interesting anyway. Not as important. Gym class is slightly different - with his Aura unlocked, he has an unfair advantage on the other kids, but he tries not to stand out there either. The ostracism can only get worse. Better to just quietly read his math books.
When she announces that it's a free computer period, he tries to fade into the background amidst the cheers. He'll be able to finish Contemporary Abstract Algebra before the libraries due date, it seems. He only shrinks in further on himself when, nearly an hour later, Ms. Platt approaches him. She smiles kindly at him, as he sullenly looks up. "That's quite an advanced book you have there. What are you hoping to be when you grow up?"
"Huntsman.", he doesn't say. How can he be a Huntsman, with a Semblance that doesn't do anything, no matter how much he tries? So he just looks down. "Idunno."
She just laughs. "Maybe you should sign up for my class, computer programming, in a few years. You can have a very successful career as a coder if you're good at math, after all."
He's not sure, later, why he asked her what he did - maybe it was some vauge sense of familiarity stemming from his Semblance. At the moment, all he does is ask... "How come?"
"Well, computers can do tedious math much quicker and more precisely than people. And I'm sure you know how powerful math can be." He'll never forget that dawning feeling of hope, not for as long as he lives.
It's well after school has ended, but as he has been for the better part of the previous school year, Jaune is still inside the computer lab. He's found himself to hold a prodigious natural talent for programming. His foundations in mathematics have served him well, but beyond that, the lines and indents sing to him like sweet music, and he's left behind the introductory, simple languages for the modern workhorses of industry. The crisp, clean code of Atlasian SNO holds the most appeal of those he's tried, but it still isn't quite right. It still doesn't quite capture the roiling symphonies he can imagine in his mind.
And for all that, his progress is minimal. The computer (the best in the lab, not that that's saying much) is locked up, the fan whining like a thing possessed, and yet no matter how much he squints, Jaune can't see any light. He's programmed the instructions at the machine code level, to absolutely minimize the overhead, and yet he still has nothing to show for it. Just his delusions, quietly unvoiced. He knows his mother is relieved he's stopped talking about his Semblance, whatever she says.
He steps out of the room in disgust, the program still running. Maybe once he has a sip of water things will be different. He flicks off the light switch, turns to walk away... and notices what he couldn't see from his previous vantage point. A tiny thing, barely visible as it slips through the vents on the back of the desktop tower.
When Ms. Platt comes in to check on him (and shoo him home), she finds him crowing in success in the dark, the computer's case disassembled in front of him. It takes him three tries to articulate what has him so happy, as ever so faintly, the air just above the processor gives off a soft cyan glow.
Having proof changes everything, it feels like. His parents, rather than quietly being concerned about his "obsession" and social withdrawal, instead now throw what limited support they can towards him. They can't afford anything truly top-of-the-line, not with so many other siblings to raise, but Jaune gets his own computer to work with, and his parents sign him up for all the math and programming courses he asks for. Competitions, too. His social status changes, from "weirdo liar" to "quiet recluse". Ms. Platt is probably the closest thing he has to a friend, despite the multitude of her other commitments cutting into her time. It's still a step up.
He forces himself to put a smidgen more of an effort into gym and physical training, however unappealing they may be. His faraway dream of being a Huntsman seems more possible than ever, and he's not foolish enough to think that just his System will be enough to carry him through. His father is happy to support him, at first.
With every passing year that his programming skill grows and his Semblance fails to make more than the most minor physical effects, though, the opinion shifts. Being a Huntsman is an exceedingly dangerous occupation, and while an applicable semblance isn't entirely required if one is skilled enough physically, it's undoubtedly a setback. And whatever his gifts for computation, Jaune is not exceedingly talented at physical combat - his father can tell he does the training far more out of determination then any actual enjoyment. He'd be a mediocre Huntsman, and an amazing programmer, so why settle for second best?
He needs something more - something physical, something tangible. Something to surpass the limits on the all-too-weak computers surounding him.
<begin noncanon omake portion>
His parents are overjoyed when he asks to participate in the school-wide sleepover - it's the last year before he'll be moving on to high school, they think, and some socialization will do him good. Of course, while he will be staying at school all night, partaking of the festivities is the last thing on his mind.
Ms. Platt is nervous, as she herds the disappointed children out of the computer lab with the excuse of "system maitenance", depriving them of their hoped-for multiplayer extravaganza. Nobody other than Jaune seems to notice, which is only reasonable - none of the other students know her as well as she does. He managed to get her to agree to this, for which he is thankful. He doesn't know what he'd have done without her help. Several dozen computers hum, those normally in this lab and those brought in from elsewhere. Parallel processing to distribute the workload, as much as they could manage to aquire.
His skills on the topic have outstripped those of Ms. Platt, by this point - she's here to give the whole operation a veneer of legitimacy, but the actual technical consultation comes from an altogether different source. Jaune doesn't really like Royce, but he can't help but respect him. Mr. Bracket is a friend of a friend of a friend of his teacher, and he treats Jaune with a kind of fascination that makes him uncomfortable. Still, he's exceptionally skilled. He's shown Jaune how to slim code down considerably, and he's even managed to get some tiny insight into the inner logic of what equations his Semblance will translate into what specific effect. Jaune still wonders what exactly he does for a living, but the man is tight-lipped.
With Royce's help, setting up the network cables and synchronising the various subcomponents is a fairly quick task. And so, Jaune sits down in the center of his Dust and Silicon kingdom. Concentrates. And waits.
It's agonising. Bit by bit by bit, ever so slowly crawling by as minutes turn to hours. He can't let his concentration waver, as for the first time ever, his Semblance strains enough to put an actual load on his Aura. An aurora of blue and orange builds on itself in Jaune's cupped hands, but his eyes are firmly shut. He can't risk breaking his focus.
It's nine hours later, firmly in the morning, when the program finally completes. Jaune is beyond exhausted, but he forces his eyes open to examine what's in his hands. A tiny, fingernail sized shard of sky-blue crystal. The most dense computational substrate on all of Remnant. Jaune smiles, and lets himself sleep. Beside him, Royce shakes his head at the Aura sensor - Jaune was nearly in the red, there. And he suspects that if the boy's Semblance broke, the Transition would collapse entirely, and need to be begun from scratch.
It's not enough. As a computer, the tiny chip blows his desktop far out of the water - nearly a hundred times as fast. But it still isnt practical for his purposes. It needs a base, a power supply, an interface to let him load programs onto it. And he needs more computational power. He can make more complex effects occur, now, but the Grimm won't wait around for hours for his programs to compile - even a few seconds is a major risk in combat. He could try to iterate on it, build it up bit by bit as he strains his Aura to its limits for weeks on end.
He doesn't have enough time. Signal is determining who it'll accept in just a few weeks. What he needs is to make a single, beautiful, self contained design, snatch enough processing power to create it out of nothing, and complete his masterpiece in one fell swoop. It's the only way. The only way he'll make his dream come true.
Ms. Platt can't help him here. He talks to Royce, explains how much processing power he'll need, and how quickly. The man is as inscrutable as ever in the chatroom, but he finally asks the fateful question. "how much are you willing to risk to do this?"
And as it turns out, to become a Huntsman, Jaune is willing to risk a very great deal indeed. Royce... his participation in the plan is harder for Jaune to place. As far as he can tell, it's because the man finds the very idea of Jaune's proposed hypercomputer to be incredibly fascinating, and playing a role in it's creation is something he can't turn down.
And the plan... Jaune wants to say he doesn't like it, but there's a childish thrill to it that he can't deny. The various universities' supercomputers are already fully booked months in advance, if they could even convince them to give them the time of day. So instead, Royce has Jaune intersperse his creation of the item's blueprint with a little bit of light reading on network infrastructure and protocols, while he goes to talk with some "old friends".
Jaune isn't sure where Royce is getting "friends" willing to do what he says they can, and at that moment, he doesn't care. He is increasingly curious what exactly Royce Bracket does in his daily life, but that question, too, can wait.
After all, if you're pressed for time and money, have a starting seed of computer power, and want to multiply it quickly? If you have a problem that breaks down well with massively parallel processing? If you have a sufficent lack of care for scruples and the rule of law? Then there's one solution right in front of your face.
A botnet.
Jaune sits in front of his screen, idly glancing at the shard of blue resting in its cradle, as he waits for the connection to be established. Computers won't just blindly accept any "update" that comes their way - they need to verify that it's from a trusted source, first. He could try to fake the authentication straight from the SDC, but that would take a lot of time - and put a huge target on him if it's ever noticed. Not that the current plan is any less audacious. After all, the primary other system that's authorised to provide updates-
- is the Cross Continent Transmit system. Royce came through on his end, it seems. Jaune spends a moment of worry wondering who exactly Mr. Bracket associates with that has physical access to the Tower, then shoves those thoughts aside entirely as he focusses on fulfilling his part.
He's had access to a smuggled pre-release build, but he needs to make sure nothing has changed in the official version before the patch launches if he wants to piggyback on it. He's staking his hopes on the fact that whoever worked on the multiplayer update to the Doorway operating system's bundled chess game had a few dozen other things eating up their time, and they wouldn't have time to have noticed the glaring issues with the networking code.
"After all, how popular can some tiny, automatically included game even be?" "It's not like there would be a massive outcry if the multiplayer function didn't quite work right on patch release." This was what he was betting on.
He tries to work the tension out of his spine. If this was a book, or a movie, there'd be some last minute complication for his to frantically try to overcome. (Probably by pounding with both hands on two seperate keyboards or something equally silly.) Instead... he breathes a sigh of relief. The stupid game hasn't even been touched since the final beta. He glances over any other changes for the release version, but none of them seem likely to affect his plans at all.
He tries to read something to calm his nerves, so full of pent up energy, but it's futile. He ends up mostly staring at the clock, waiting for the countdown. He wants as little time between his changes and the release as possible, just in case someone's paying attention. (He doubts it.) Finally, as the moment arrives, he copies his previously written code, and with a key press, uploads it.
<end noncanon omake portion>
And then-
Then-
He's never felt this before.
A million circuits, all humming as one to a single beat, for a single cause, all funneled to a single place, for him to shape.
Dizzying fractal patterns all subtly different from the baseline, circling around a perfect central axis.
He feels the rush of power in a way he didn't know was possible, and lets it take shape. It flows in the only possible way it can flow, into the grooves in the numbers that he tended, that have become grooves in reality.
It builds upon itself, a chain reaction, folded space and folded time, energy unfurling to power the equations to create the energy and more. A perpetual motion machine with a diagram of itself imbedded in every tiny piece of itself - a mechanism that knows its own shape and will always strive to restore its ideal.
It takes shape before him, a second sun illuminating the night with the hue of the sky, and the scant minutes it takes to form are the longest moments Jaune has ever experienced.
He has made this.
He has made this?
He has made this.
And then it's over. His Aura barely even feels like it dipped.
<reinstate noncanon omake portion>
He glances at his (former, pathetic) computer's screen. He's missed a message while he was in his trance. A message from Royce.
"we need"
"we need to cut ties"
Ah.
Of course. A connection between them could endanger them both if any hints the authorities picked up pointed at either of them. Jaune... Jaune is fine with it, as it happens. He still doesn't really like Royce, but he can trust him with the remains of the virus, he thinks. Royce is owed that much, at least, for helping him bring this fragment of infinity down to the base earth. Jaune's reply is sussinct.
"Understood. It is done."
"Thank you."
He turns to the terminal, and types the last lines of code for the CCT Tower he hopes to see in his life.
It's time to put all this behind him. That code can lie there, forgotten, forever. He hopes it does. After all, as it stands right now...
That said? Have my take on a few things.
Ready: Run
"-he's been far too quiet. It's nice to have some peace in the house, but it's not normal to monofocus on a single topic like this." The woman shakes her head, sadly. "Do you think he's still... affected?"
Her husband leans back on his chair, his expression only barely hiding his exasperation with the topic. "He's young, Anne. They bounce back quick at this age."
She sends him a tired smile. "It's just... he'd normally have moved on to a new obsession by now. Is it because of an unlocked Aura...?"
The front legs of the chair clack against the kitchen tiles as he stops leaning backwards. "By eight? It's not actually that uncommon in Huntsman families. I'm pretty sure his 'Semblance' is just imagination, though. That would be unusual."
She reaches forwards, to hold her husbands hand-
-and the door to the kitchen slams open. "Nuh-uh! It's totally real! I can make the numbers do things!"
"Jaune. Arc." He gulps. "Why aren't you asleep, at this hour?"
He wriggles in place, looking down. "Violet said my books were dumb. I couldn't sleep."
His mother kneels before him, bringing her face down to his level, and the boy collapses into her. "I don't know if numbers are your semblance, sweetie, but I'll support you all the way, just the same." He makes a noise of protest, but doesn't extract himself from the hug.
He sits, sullenly, in the back of the classroom. He told the other children about what he can make the numbers do, but no matter how hard he tried, none of the others could see what he sees. So now he hunches in on himself, concentrates on the mathematics, and hopes to be ignored. Better that, then to be called a liar. Again.
The teacher walks in, and it's not the usual one. He's seen Ms. Platt before, teaching the older students. She's probably here as a substitute. He shuts his book, uncertain if she'll uphold the same detente of letting him quietly read that he normally enjoys. In math, he's far ahead of the curriculum, and for everything else, it's not as interesting anyway. Not as important. Gym class is slightly different - with his Aura unlocked, he has an unfair advantage on the other kids, but he tries not to stand out there either. The ostracism can only get worse. Better to just quietly read his math books.
When she announces that it's a free computer period, he tries to fade into the background amidst the cheers. He'll be able to finish Contemporary Abstract Algebra before the libraries due date, it seems. He only shrinks in further on himself when, nearly an hour later, Ms. Platt approaches him. She smiles kindly at him, as he sullenly looks up. "That's quite an advanced book you have there. What are you hoping to be when you grow up?"
"Huntsman.", he doesn't say. How can he be a Huntsman, with a Semblance that doesn't do anything, no matter how much he tries? So he just looks down. "Idunno."
She just laughs. "Maybe you should sign up for my class, computer programming, in a few years. You can have a very successful career as a coder if you're good at math, after all."
He's not sure, later, why he asked her what he did - maybe it was some vauge sense of familiarity stemming from his Semblance. At the moment, all he does is ask... "How come?"
"Well, computers can do tedious math much quicker and more precisely than people. And I'm sure you know how powerful math can be." He'll never forget that dawning feeling of hope, not for as long as he lives.
It's well after school has ended, but as he has been for the better part of the previous school year, Jaune is still inside the computer lab. He's found himself to hold a prodigious natural talent for programming. His foundations in mathematics have served him well, but beyond that, the lines and indents sing to him like sweet music, and he's left behind the introductory, simple languages for the modern workhorses of industry. The crisp, clean code of Atlasian SNO holds the most appeal of those he's tried, but it still isn't quite right. It still doesn't quite capture the roiling symphonies he can imagine in his mind.
And for all that, his progress is minimal. The computer (the best in the lab, not that that's saying much) is locked up, the fan whining like a thing possessed, and yet no matter how much he squints, Jaune can't see any light. He's programmed the instructions at the machine code level, to absolutely minimize the overhead, and yet he still has nothing to show for it. Just his delusions, quietly unvoiced. He knows his mother is relieved he's stopped talking about his Semblance, whatever she says.
He steps out of the room in disgust, the program still running. Maybe once he has a sip of water things will be different. He flicks off the light switch, turns to walk away... and notices what he couldn't see from his previous vantage point. A tiny thing, barely visible as it slips through the vents on the back of the desktop tower.
When Ms. Platt comes in to check on him (and shoo him home), she finds him crowing in success in the dark, the computer's case disassembled in front of him. It takes him three tries to articulate what has him so happy, as ever so faintly, the air just above the processor gives off a soft cyan glow.
Having proof changes everything, it feels like. His parents, rather than quietly being concerned about his "obsession" and social withdrawal, instead now throw what limited support they can towards him. They can't afford anything truly top-of-the-line, not with so many other siblings to raise, but Jaune gets his own computer to work with, and his parents sign him up for all the math and programming courses he asks for. Competitions, too. His social status changes, from "weirdo liar" to "quiet recluse". Ms. Platt is probably the closest thing he has to a friend, despite the multitude of her other commitments cutting into her time. It's still a step up.
He forces himself to put a smidgen more of an effort into gym and physical training, however unappealing they may be. His faraway dream of being a Huntsman seems more possible than ever, and he's not foolish enough to think that just his System will be enough to carry him through. His father is happy to support him, at first.
With every passing year that his programming skill grows and his Semblance fails to make more than the most minor physical effects, though, the opinion shifts. Being a Huntsman is an exceedingly dangerous occupation, and while an applicable semblance isn't entirely required if one is skilled enough physically, it's undoubtedly a setback. And whatever his gifts for computation, Jaune is not exceedingly talented at physical combat - his father can tell he does the training far more out of determination then any actual enjoyment. He'd be a mediocre Huntsman, and an amazing programmer, so why settle for second best?
He needs something more - something physical, something tangible. Something to surpass the limits on the all-too-weak computers surounding him.
<begin noncanon omake portion>
His parents are overjoyed when he asks to participate in the school-wide sleepover - it's the last year before he'll be moving on to high school, they think, and some socialization will do him good. Of course, while he will be staying at school all night, partaking of the festivities is the last thing on his mind.
Ms. Platt is nervous, as she herds the disappointed children out of the computer lab with the excuse of "system maitenance", depriving them of their hoped-for multiplayer extravaganza. Nobody other than Jaune seems to notice, which is only reasonable - none of the other students know her as well as she does. He managed to get her to agree to this, for which he is thankful. He doesn't know what he'd have done without her help. Several dozen computers hum, those normally in this lab and those brought in from elsewhere. Parallel processing to distribute the workload, as much as they could manage to aquire.
His skills on the topic have outstripped those of Ms. Platt, by this point - she's here to give the whole operation a veneer of legitimacy, but the actual technical consultation comes from an altogether different source. Jaune doesn't really like Royce, but he can't help but respect him. Mr. Bracket is a friend of a friend of a friend of his teacher, and he treats Jaune with a kind of fascination that makes him uncomfortable. Still, he's exceptionally skilled. He's shown Jaune how to slim code down considerably, and he's even managed to get some tiny insight into the inner logic of what equations his Semblance will translate into what specific effect. Jaune still wonders what exactly he does for a living, but the man is tight-lipped.
With Royce's help, setting up the network cables and synchronising the various subcomponents is a fairly quick task. And so, Jaune sits down in the center of his Dust and Silicon kingdom. Concentrates. And waits.
It's agonising. Bit by bit by bit, ever so slowly crawling by as minutes turn to hours. He can't let his concentration waver, as for the first time ever, his Semblance strains enough to put an actual load on his Aura. An aurora of blue and orange builds on itself in Jaune's cupped hands, but his eyes are firmly shut. He can't risk breaking his focus.
It's nine hours later, firmly in the morning, when the program finally completes. Jaune is beyond exhausted, but he forces his eyes open to examine what's in his hands. A tiny, fingernail sized shard of sky-blue crystal. The most dense computational substrate on all of Remnant. Jaune smiles, and lets himself sleep. Beside him, Royce shakes his head at the Aura sensor - Jaune was nearly in the red, there. And he suspects that if the boy's Semblance broke, the Transition would collapse entirely, and need to be begun from scratch.
It's not enough. As a computer, the tiny chip blows his desktop far out of the water - nearly a hundred times as fast. But it still isnt practical for his purposes. It needs a base, a power supply, an interface to let him load programs onto it. And he needs more computational power. He can make more complex effects occur, now, but the Grimm won't wait around for hours for his programs to compile - even a few seconds is a major risk in combat. He could try to iterate on it, build it up bit by bit as he strains his Aura to its limits for weeks on end.
He doesn't have enough time. Signal is determining who it'll accept in just a few weeks. What he needs is to make a single, beautiful, self contained design, snatch enough processing power to create it out of nothing, and complete his masterpiece in one fell swoop. It's the only way. The only way he'll make his dream come true.
Ms. Platt can't help him here. He talks to Royce, explains how much processing power he'll need, and how quickly. The man is as inscrutable as ever in the chatroom, but he finally asks the fateful question. "how much are you willing to risk to do this?"
And as it turns out, to become a Huntsman, Jaune is willing to risk a very great deal indeed. Royce... his participation in the plan is harder for Jaune to place. As far as he can tell, it's because the man finds the very idea of Jaune's proposed hypercomputer to be incredibly fascinating, and playing a role in it's creation is something he can't turn down.
And the plan... Jaune wants to say he doesn't like it, but there's a childish thrill to it that he can't deny. The various universities' supercomputers are already fully booked months in advance, if they could even convince them to give them the time of day. So instead, Royce has Jaune intersperse his creation of the item's blueprint with a little bit of light reading on network infrastructure and protocols, while he goes to talk with some "old friends".
Jaune isn't sure where Royce is getting "friends" willing to do what he says they can, and at that moment, he doesn't care. He is increasingly curious what exactly Royce Bracket does in his daily life, but that question, too, can wait.
After all, if you're pressed for time and money, have a starting seed of computer power, and want to multiply it quickly? If you have a problem that breaks down well with massively parallel processing? If you have a sufficent lack of care for scruples and the rule of law? Then there's one solution right in front of your face.
A botnet.
Code:
>connect user CCT001ALP
>passcode ************Jaune sits in front of his screen, idly glancing at the shard of blue resting in its cradle, as he waits for the connection to be established. Computers won't just blindly accept any "update" that comes their way - they need to verify that it's from a trusted source, first. He could try to fake the authentication straight from the SDC, but that would take a lot of time - and put a huge target on him if it's ever noticed. Not that the current plan is any less audacious. After all, the primary other system that's authorised to provide updates-
Code:
[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]- is the Cross Continent Transmit system. Royce came through on his end, it seems. Jaune spends a moment of worry wondering who exactly Mr. Bracket associates with that has physical access to the Tower, then shoves those thoughts aside entirely as he focusses on fulfilling his part.
He's had access to a smuggled pre-release build, but he needs to make sure nothing has changed in the official version before the patch launches if he wants to piggyback on it. He's staking his hopes on the fact that whoever worked on the multiplayer update to the Doorway operating system's bundled chess game had a few dozen other things eating up their time, and they wouldn't have time to have noticed the glaring issues with the networking code.
"After all, how popular can some tiny, automatically included game even be?" "It's not like there would be a massive outcry if the multiplayer function didn't quite work right on patch release." This was what he was betting on.
He tries to work the tension out of his spine. If this was a book, or a movie, there'd be some last minute complication for his to frantically try to overcome. (Probably by pounding with both hands on two seperate keyboards or something equally silly.) Instead... he breathes a sigh of relief. The stupid game hasn't even been touched since the final beta. He glances over any other changes for the release version, but none of them seem likely to affect his plans at all.
He tries to read something to calm his nerves, so full of pent up energy, but it's futile. He ends up mostly staring at the clock, waiting for the countdown. He wants as little time between his changes and the release as possible, just in case someone's paying attention. (He doubts it.) Finally, as the moment arrives, he copies his previously written code, and with a key press, uploads it.
<end noncanon omake portion>
And then-
Then-
He's never felt this before.
A million circuits, all humming as one to a single beat, for a single cause, all funneled to a single place, for him to shape.
Dizzying fractal patterns all subtly different from the baseline, circling around a perfect central axis.
He feels the rush of power in a way he didn't know was possible, and lets it take shape. It flows in the only possible way it can flow, into the grooves in the numbers that he tended, that have become grooves in reality.
It builds upon itself, a chain reaction, folded space and folded time, energy unfurling to power the equations to create the energy and more. A perpetual motion machine with a diagram of itself imbedded in every tiny piece of itself - a mechanism that knows its own shape and will always strive to restore its ideal.
It takes shape before him, a second sun illuminating the night with the hue of the sky, and the scant minutes it takes to form are the longest moments Jaune has ever experienced.
He has made this.
He has made this?
He has made this.
And then it's over. His Aura barely even feels like it dipped.
<reinstate noncanon omake portion>
He glances at his (former, pathetic) computer's screen. He's missed a message while he was in his trance. A message from Royce.
"we need"
"we need to cut ties"
Ah.
Of course. A connection between them could endanger them both if any hints the authorities picked up pointed at either of them. Jaune... Jaune is fine with it, as it happens. He still doesn't really like Royce, but he can trust him with the remains of the virus, he thinks. Royce is owed that much, at least, for helping him bring this fragment of infinity down to the base earth. Jaune's reply is sussinct.
"Understood. It is done."
"Thank you."
He turns to the terminal, and types the last lines of code for the CCT Tower he hopes to see in his life.
Code:
>execute QueenFall(terminate);
>disconnectIt's time to put all this behind him. That code can lie there, forgotten, forever. He hopes it does. After all, as it stands right now...
{Transistor Online}
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ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
Did you just make the Queen virus Jaune's fault? Is that what I'm seeing here?
You evil genius.
Edit: I just realized that would also make Cinder a copycat and a script kiddie. So now I'm cackling at work.
You evil genius.
Edit: I just realized that would also make Cinder a copycat and a script kiddie. So now I'm cackling at work.
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- Location
- Hell
....
*checks*
...well that is bull, I guessed I got gimped :/
@Prok
So how are we going to go about getting the other Functions? Is it going to be like in the game where we get a choice after we level up or...?
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
If you have the PC or physical soundtracks and don't have She Shines, email Supergiant about it. Thats what they said to do on their Twitter back when the Apple TV Transistor went live.
Also, functions are developed through beta testing and we can swap them out with our tools at home, IIRC.
Also, functions are developed through beta testing and we can swap them out with our tools at home, IIRC.
- Location
- United states
Think we can put actions towards those and even base them off of semblances. Really hoping to get the healing function from teal since that is way too useful to pass up. Especially considering how our legs got messed up during the last round. Hopefully Jaune would use the opportunity to nab it on his own.
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
Does Cinder really seem like a super hacker to you?
It's probably Watts' work in canon!RWBY, but I thought tying it into Royce Bracket and Jaune somehow fits better for the crossover.
ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
Not really, but I can just imagine it now. The big confrontation. Jaune confronts Cinder with Ozpin and Pyrrha under the school.
"You know, I'm disappointed in you. You couldn't even do something original, you had to steal my work and just squish it together with a messy IFF hack? I feel offended. On a personal level."
Queue Spin().
"You know, I'm disappointed in you. You couldn't even do something original, you had to steal my work and just squish it together with a messy IFF hack? I feel offended. On a personal level."
Queue Spin().
- Location
- A state of cleverness
Hahahahaha, very nice @Redshirt Army, I love it.
Only issue:
Only issue:
We know how Jaune science'd the Transistor. Still though: lol CCT.
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- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
I know that, but chose to disregard it. Jaune being responsible for the whole Black Queen mess is too tempting to pass up, and the Transistor is a bit too complex for me to totally buy into it being conjured using some off the shelf parts anyway.
- Location
- A state of cleverness
Fair warning, I wouldn't necessarily expect a healing healing function, if you catch my drift.
Just making sure and I totally get that! One thing that I'm going to do with my take on the summoning is try to... well, not justify it so much as make the Transistor seem like the miracle that it is even in a setting where souls give people magic. I think you did an amazing job with that here btw.
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ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
You know, I just realized something about that Dishonored cross. Super speed is super duper suspicious as a Semblance, since every single Marked has some kind of Transversal ability.
But more than that, the Marked seem to be drawn to each other. See: how Granny Rags meets both Corvo and Daud, and how Delilah Copperspoon, who I'm not entirely sure is the same person as Delilah in Dishonored 2 because I worked hard to kill that bitch dangit, manages to cross Corvo, and how Emily can't really get out of her web even if she wanted to once she takes the Mark.
People with the Mark of the Outsider find other people with the same Mark. There are only 7 Marked in Dishonored (even when Emily is Marked, Corvo lost his), and in just one game you meet three others.
What if there's two people at Beacon with the Mark?
See this is what I meant about having too many ideas and needing to write my own damn quest.
But more than that, the Marked seem to be drawn to each other. See: how Granny Rags meets both Corvo and Daud, and how Delilah Copperspoon, who I'm not entirely sure is the same person as Delilah in Dishonored 2 because I worked hard to kill that bitch dangit, manages to cross Corvo, and how Emily can't really get out of her web even if she wanted to once she takes the Mark.
People with the Mark of the Outsider find other people with the same Mark. There are only 7 Marked in Dishonored (even when Emily is Marked, Corvo lost his), and in just one game you meet three others.
What if there's two people at Beacon with the Mark?
See this is what I meant about having too many ideas and needing to write my own damn quest.
- Location
- A state of cleverness
For extra fun it's Cardin.
Pffffft. Think of it this way: the more you write the better chance we have to unlock the Process BEFORE Beacon starts. (@Prok: Toldja this'd happen.
) For example, I just realized that Planescape: Torment has many wonderful ideas that apply to K6BD. For example:Coaxmetal said:
I can WORK with that!The Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon said:
Serious talk time: team composition. I want Jaune partnered with Pyrrha, I don't even think they'd work romantically here but breaking up JNPR's pairs just seems wrong. Ada, Cream to round it out? Mulan and Thor can survive with each other and are about as relevant as Yang until s4.
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ADeshantis
King on the Chromium Throne
- Location
- United states
Hmm...
Jaune/Pyrrha and Lumen/Weiss.
Imagine. Imagine the tension as Pyrrha tries her hardest to be nice even though Weiss is everything she hates about being famous. Imagine how absolutely infuriated Weiss would be with Lumen. Lumen just continues to not give a shit, as is his wont, and Jaune is stuck in the middle of it all.
But seriously, I'd like Lumen and Creme on our team as a pair. I like Ada, I really do, but I like Lumen and Creme more. Main problem: acronyms. We know we can use first or last names, so let's see what our options would be.
J or A
P or N
C or D
L or T
How would we turn that into a color? I suck at this!
Jaune/Pyrrha and Lumen/Weiss.
Imagine. Imagine the tension as Pyrrha tries her hardest to be nice even though Weiss is everything she hates about being famous. Imagine how absolutely infuriated Weiss would be with Lumen. Lumen just continues to not give a shit, as is his wont, and Jaune is stuck in the middle of it all.
But seriously, I'd like Lumen and Creme on our team as a pair. I like Ada, I really do, but I like Lumen and Creme more. Main problem: acronyms. We know we can use first or last names, so let's see what our options would be.
J or A
P or N
C or D
L or T
How would we turn that into a color? I suck at this!
- Location
- A state of cleverness
ACLN: Acetylene? xD
Also substitutions are entirely allowed, just look at RWBY. You could get away with using Cream's C as an "O" for example, or Pyrrha's "N" to stand in for "M". "T" for "I" is probably pushing it though.
Hm. JNDT: Jadeite? 'cuz capital "A"s look like capital "N"s when your doctor writes you a prescription?
Also substitutions are entirely allowed, just look at RWBY. You could get away with using Cream's C as an "O" for example, or Pyrrha's "N" to stand in for "M". "T" for "I" is probably pushing it though.
Hm. JNDT: Jadeite? 'cuz capital "A"s look like capital "N"s when your doctor writes you a prescription?
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
The obvious choice is APCT for Apricot.
- Location
- A state of cleverness
.....Whelp. My only excuse is that hate apricots.
Interlude: The Nobody. (Part 2)
Prok
Go play Star Fetchers
- Location
- Scotland
... Allow me a moment of weakness.
If I had not put up the omake rules, if I wasn't offering points for them, if I had just come out and asked, "I would love to see people writing their own snippets and posting them in the thread," would you have?
I know the 'enjoy yourself' rule was more a joke than anything, but... how true is it?
Anyway, it's finally been voted on, and part 2 of The Nobody interlude is good to go, and part 3 will be up directly after!
To finish a thought-
Ok, ok, time to be a professional- the first four parts, I'm separating them with the horizontal lines here- beautiful. Between you and Clever, you've pretty much captured exactly what Jaune was like pre-Transistor. Frequent migraines, a grasp for maths and computer programming far, far beyond his educational level, eventually reaching the point where you could, true to your skills description, easily grab a Bachelor's degree in any computing course you even looked at, Mrs Platt, the book, the ostracism caused by his unlocked Aura and , I would happily slap a Canon sticker on those bits alone.
Everything else is divergent, bar the part where the Transistor actually comes into existence, that, one 200 word snippet, sent shivers down my spine, because you got what I've been trying to get ever since I started writing this- what the Transistor... is.
I've gone on about silicon and circuitry before, and it's never felt right, that's always felt too weak to me, but this, a perpetual motion machine powered by energy created through equations that are powered by the energy created through the equations...
You've pointed out to me that I'm thinking too small when it comes to your Semblance. I've been thinking too... mundanely. Thank you.
20 Fate Points and Partial Canon status.
... Where was I? Ah, yes, to finally finish a thought-
You code them yourself, with each one taking a couple weeks at least to create. If you scan someone's Semblance, a process that takes several hours, you get a small bonus to the accuracy of the Function compared to if you'd just tried to eyeball it- think of it as the difference between drawing from memory and drawing from an actual reference. The full mechanics will be discussed fairly soon, as well as an opening for Function suggestions.
Ok, ok, third time's the charm-
To finally finish a thought-
To... finally finish a thought...
Nothing? Nobody else? Great!
To finally finish a thought, I feel, in RWBY, between the Grimm, the White Fang, Salem's lot, and, hell, even Torchwick's goons... it's easy to forget that people make perfectly good monsters on their own.
|||
You take a sip of the drink set in front of you, the mixture of vodka and tomato juice, hints of salt, pepper, some Shade sauce, lemon, a hint of beef stock, which is a nice twist, gives a nice, meaty backbone to the drink- yes, the Bloody Maiden.
It's like a comforting meal in a glass.
Setting it down, you manage not to jerk back as a drop of blood falls from the ceiling, directly into your drink. You look up and see the corpse wedged between the ceiling boards, hanging directly above your glass.
... Oh. Yeah.
You did that.
Somewhere between... drinks two and three, you believe?
... Eh, you're paying for it anyway- you pick it up and take a deeper drink, the iron of the blood adding another layer to the drink, as well as making the name that much more literal. Soon, the glass is drained, and it joins its companions on the other side of the table. You're on... four, now, you think?
Lifting a bony hand, noting the gentle sway to it, you gently tap the counter to get the barmaid's attention, startling the still-shaking girl. The motion draws your eyes to her, and she immediately stops moving. Already, black streaks of mascara stain her cheeks from all the quiet crying she's been doing since you finished your works.
"So, that's the Bloody Maiden, a strawberry daiquiri, a sex on the beach- two… sex, on the beaches... sexes on the beach... a threesome on the beach, blast it- what else is on the menu?"
She just blubbers, and you find yourself smiling at her. You would call it a warm smile, but you don't really... do warmth. Really, you're just showing your teeth.
She breaks further into hysterics, quickly babbling something about... Atlesians?
"... White Atlesian?" You guess.
She nods her head hard, desperate to do something that'll keep you happy.
"Sounds good. Er, use one of the harsher vodkas you have- I like a bit of roughness to it."
The barmaid begins to work, frantically grabbing everything she can to make your next order, uncaring of the bottles or glasses she knocks off shelves, working under the illusion that you're going to do to her what you did to the rest of the bar. You're not, you need her because she talked to him, and you can tell she talked to him because every barmaid tries to talk to him- it's like he radiates some aura of 'please talk to me about my problems!'-ness despite his attitude saying otherwise.
Still, you're going to be waiting a while, so you spin in your stool, catching yourself on the countertop and giving yourself a moment while your brain stops spinning.
Oof. Best make this the last one before you get down to business. While she makes up your next drink, you look out on the fruits of your labours.
As always, it started with someone thinking you were worth picking on.
College kid, drunk off his ass, armour and a weapon at his side- tournament scholarship, Hunter-in-training, you don't particularly care about anything besides the fact that he just felt like being annoying. So, when he put an arm on your shoulder, leaning in to try and intimidate you, you gently took it off.
At the elbow.
It took him a full three seconds to realise what you'd done, and the look on his face when he did! And the scream! He screamed like a little girl!
God, you could have pissed yourself laughing!
Obviously, his teammates took offence to that, so they had to go, you think a good chunk of the girl's sitting on that table over there, you definitely needed her for your surprise, you're not sure where the rest of her is, one of them you just turned into a red smear on the wall, the third...
What did you do with the third?
No, seriously, where the hell is he- frowning, you look around, unable to spot your fourth victim of the night. Lessee, number one, lying right in front of you, missing an arm, face inverted, seems right, number six is in various pieces inside numbers seven through ten, most of two's on the table directly in front of you, delicately arranged for your surprise, you remember that much. You take a moment to look over the patterns you painted in their blood again and- follow the lines, look for the shapes, don't let your eyes focus on any one piece for too long- find them correct for their purpose.
... You look up...
Mmm... no, that was the guy who tried to smash a bottle over your head. Hence why he got the compression treatment.
Where the blue blazes is he?! Ok, ok, retrace your steps, he was... number four, so he came before the bisection, but after the pasting and the heart-breaking you gone and did, so he must have been... you hear a gentle creaking behind one of the wooden pillars, and lean out a bit to see what it is, and spot your missing person, hanging from the rafters, arms splayed out to the sides.
... Right, yes, of course! That one was fun. They all were, but that one was new to you. You haven't done tendons much before, that was, that was very nice improvisation, if you may say so yourself.
Behind you, you hear the shaky rattle of glass on wood, and turn to see a nice, squat glass filled with vodka, coffee liqueur, and what you hope is heavy cream and not milk. A quick sip tells you that, yes, yes it is heavy cream. Excellent.
"So!" You start, making the girl flinch. "I... am looking for someone. Big guy, more pile of sentient scar tissue than a human being, beard like someone unclogged the drains at a pet groomer's?"
"I-I-I saw him! H-he was- he was j-just sitting there-" She points at the seat you're sitting in, in the middle of the bar, before stammering through a story about what drink he ordered, and how she pointed out the college team to get him to open up and oh good God woman get on with it!
"Get to the point. What did he say he was doing?" You tell her flatly. The slight squeak she gives is almost pathetic.
"He-he-he said he was looking for his d-daughter, er, A-Ada!"
You take another sip, enjoying the richness and the slight acidity the coffee liqueur gives it, the slight roughness of the vodka saving it from just feeling like a boozy milkshake.
"Ah, Ada. I remember her. A tiny girl, last I saw her- barely scraped four feet and change. She was lovely, a bit of a daddy's girl, but nice enough to chat to."
She nods, just agreeing with you out of fear, instead of actually engaging you in conversation. You huff a little, but choose not to hold it against her. You mean, you did kill the rest of her clientele. You doubt you'd be very chatty either.
You get to it and ask her if he said where he was going.
"V-Vale! He said he was going to search for her in Vale, b-because she would have been stuck to walking and hitchhiking!"
Hmm. If she is in Vale... referring to your own mental map of the Kingdoms, hazy as it is, you believe...
Yes, you believe you know how to get to Vale before him! Excellent!
You begin to laugh, a shrill, shuddering, clicking noise, the girl freezing in place like if she stays still, the sound will stop.
"Wonderful! Why, if I leave right away, I might be able to get there before him, surprise them both!" You tell her, downing the rest of the White Atlesian in your hand, slamming it down on the table, tearing a scream from her throat.
Heurgh. That's really starting to get on your nerves quite a bit. Really, really on your nerves, it's just such a grating sound-
Well, you have what you came for. And the girl does mix a damn good Bloody Maiden, even scared out of her mind. That kind of talent deserves to be rewarded. No, you won't kill her.
Just... shut her up a little. You reach your arm out a little, your Semblance shifting the bone and flesh like putty until your hand covers her mouth even as she backs away, your arm looking like an outstretched coil of rope.
"Shh... it's like listening to nails on a chalkboard." You tell her, gently pinching her lips together, before changing your mind and just wiping them away completely.
You bring your hand back, flicking the splat of flesh away from your hand as you do. She paws at the smooth skin where her mouth should be, still silently screaming through her nose.
... You're bored.
Getting up off your stool, you walk around the bar, eventually finding... eh, somebody's wallet, and pulling out a few cards of lien, lobbing them onto the counter before putting it back where it should go.
"That should about cover it!" You call back as you walk out, poking various lines and streaks of drying blood, pulsing your Aura through them as you do, before gently closing the door behind you. That should keep them busy- you think he's got deputies with him now.
You take a deep breath, the brisk midnight air cool on your face, the thin cotton shirt you have woefully inadequate for keeping the chill out of your bones.
That's alright, though. You like the cold anyway.
As you begin to walk down the road, only the slightest of sway to your swagger, you feel compelled to whistle a tune you haven't thought of in a long time.
And with that, it's time to move along.
Always is.
If I had not put up the omake rules, if I wasn't offering points for them, if I had just come out and asked, "I would love to see people writing their own snippets and posting them in the thread," would you have?
I know the 'enjoy yourself' rule was more a joke than anything, but... how true is it?
She Shines, if Spotify is to be believed, is its own single, which might explain why it's not included on the soundtrack- it was released about two years later, in 2016. Personally, I've never heard it in-game, and the release date, at least to me, hints as to why, but I'm no expert in these matters.
Anyway, it's finally been voted on, and part 2 of The Nobody interlude is good to go, and part 3 will be up directly after!
To finish a thought-
AAAAAGH. AAAAAAGH.
Ok, ok, time to be a professional- the first four parts, I'm separating them with the horizontal lines here- beautiful. Between you and Clever, you've pretty much captured exactly what Jaune was like pre-Transistor. Frequent migraines, a grasp for maths and computer programming far, far beyond his educational level, eventually reaching the point where you could, true to your skills description, easily grab a Bachelor's degree in any computing course you even looked at, Mrs Platt, the book, the ostracism caused by his unlocked Aura and , I would happily slap a Canon sticker on those bits alone.
Everything else is divergent, bar the part where the Transistor actually comes into existence, that, one 200 word snippet, sent shivers down my spine, because you got what I've been trying to get ever since I started writing this- what the Transistor... is.
I've gone on about silicon and circuitry before, and it's never felt right, that's always felt too weak to me, but this, a perpetual motion machine powered by energy created through equations that are powered by the energy created through the equations...
You've pointed out to me that I'm thinking too small when it comes to your Semblance. I've been thinking too... mundanely. Thank you.
20 Fate Points and Partial Canon status.
... Where was I? Ah, yes, to finally finish a thought-
You code them yourself, with each one taking a couple weeks at least to create. If you scan someone's Semblance, a process that takes several hours, you get a small bonus to the accuracy of the Function compared to if you'd just tried to eyeball it- think of it as the difference between drawing from memory and drawing from an actual reference. The full mechanics will be discussed fairly soon, as well as an opening for Function suggestions.
Ok, ok, third time's the charm-
To finally finish a thought-
J, C, N, T, jacinth is a reddish-orange variety of zircon.
To... finally finish a thought...
Nothing? Nobody else? Great!
To finally finish a thought, I feel, in RWBY, between the Grimm, the White Fang, Salem's lot, and, hell, even Torchwick's goons... it's easy to forget that people make perfectly good monsters on their own.
|||
You take a sip of the drink set in front of you, the mixture of vodka and tomato juice, hints of salt, pepper, some Shade sauce, lemon, a hint of beef stock, which is a nice twist, gives a nice, meaty backbone to the drink- yes, the Bloody Maiden.
It's like a comforting meal in a glass.
Setting it down, you manage not to jerk back as a drop of blood falls from the ceiling, directly into your drink. You look up and see the corpse wedged between the ceiling boards, hanging directly above your glass.
... Oh. Yeah.
You did that.
Somewhere between... drinks two and three, you believe?
... Eh, you're paying for it anyway- you pick it up and take a deeper drink, the iron of the blood adding another layer to the drink, as well as making the name that much more literal. Soon, the glass is drained, and it joins its companions on the other side of the table. You're on... four, now, you think?
Lifting a bony hand, noting the gentle sway to it, you gently tap the counter to get the barmaid's attention, startling the still-shaking girl. The motion draws your eyes to her, and she immediately stops moving. Already, black streaks of mascara stain her cheeks from all the quiet crying she's been doing since you finished your works.
"So, that's the Bloody Maiden, a strawberry daiquiri, a sex on the beach- two… sex, on the beaches... sexes on the beach... a threesome on the beach, blast it- what else is on the menu?"
She just blubbers, and you find yourself smiling at her. You would call it a warm smile, but you don't really... do warmth. Really, you're just showing your teeth.
She breaks further into hysterics, quickly babbling something about... Atlesians?
"... White Atlesian?" You guess.
She nods her head hard, desperate to do something that'll keep you happy.
"Sounds good. Er, use one of the harsher vodkas you have- I like a bit of roughness to it."
The barmaid begins to work, frantically grabbing everything she can to make your next order, uncaring of the bottles or glasses she knocks off shelves, working under the illusion that you're going to do to her what you did to the rest of the bar. You're not, you need her because she talked to him, and you can tell she talked to him because every barmaid tries to talk to him- it's like he radiates some aura of 'please talk to me about my problems!'-ness despite his attitude saying otherwise.
Still, you're going to be waiting a while, so you spin in your stool, catching yourself on the countertop and giving yourself a moment while your brain stops spinning.
Oof. Best make this the last one before you get down to business. While she makes up your next drink, you look out on the fruits of your labours.
As always, it started with someone thinking you were worth picking on.
College kid, drunk off his ass, armour and a weapon at his side- tournament scholarship, Hunter-in-training, you don't particularly care about anything besides the fact that he just felt like being annoying. So, when he put an arm on your shoulder, leaning in to try and intimidate you, you gently took it off.
At the elbow.
It took him a full three seconds to realise what you'd done, and the look on his face when he did! And the scream! He screamed like a little girl!
God, you could have pissed yourself laughing!
Obviously, his teammates took offence to that, so they had to go, you think a good chunk of the girl's sitting on that table over there, you definitely needed her for your surprise, you're not sure where the rest of her is, one of them you just turned into a red smear on the wall, the third...
What did you do with the third?
No, seriously, where the hell is he- frowning, you look around, unable to spot your fourth victim of the night. Lessee, number one, lying right in front of you, missing an arm, face inverted, seems right, number six is in various pieces inside numbers seven through ten, most of two's on the table directly in front of you, delicately arranged for your surprise, you remember that much. You take a moment to look over the patterns you painted in their blood again and- follow the lines, look for the shapes, don't let your eyes focus on any one piece for too long- find them correct for their purpose.
... You look up...
Mmm... no, that was the guy who tried to smash a bottle over your head. Hence why he got the compression treatment.
Where the blue blazes is he?! Ok, ok, retrace your steps, he was... number four, so he came before the bisection, but after the pasting and the heart-breaking you gone and did, so he must have been... you hear a gentle creaking behind one of the wooden pillars, and lean out a bit to see what it is, and spot your missing person, hanging from the rafters, arms splayed out to the sides.
... Right, yes, of course! That one was fun. They all were, but that one was new to you. You haven't done tendons much before, that was, that was very nice improvisation, if you may say so yourself.
Behind you, you hear the shaky rattle of glass on wood, and turn to see a nice, squat glass filled with vodka, coffee liqueur, and what you hope is heavy cream and not milk. A quick sip tells you that, yes, yes it is heavy cream. Excellent.
"So!" You start, making the girl flinch. "I... am looking for someone. Big guy, more pile of sentient scar tissue than a human being, beard like someone unclogged the drains at a pet groomer's?"
"I-I-I saw him! H-he was- he was j-just sitting there-" She points at the seat you're sitting in, in the middle of the bar, before stammering through a story about what drink he ordered, and how she pointed out the college team to get him to open up and oh good God woman get on with it!
"Get to the point. What did he say he was doing?" You tell her flatly. The slight squeak she gives is almost pathetic.
"He-he-he said he was looking for his d-daughter, er, A-Ada!"
You take another sip, enjoying the richness and the slight acidity the coffee liqueur gives it, the slight roughness of the vodka saving it from just feeling like a boozy milkshake.
"Ah, Ada. I remember her. A tiny girl, last I saw her- barely scraped four feet and change. She was lovely, a bit of a daddy's girl, but nice enough to chat to."
She nods, just agreeing with you out of fear, instead of actually engaging you in conversation. You huff a little, but choose not to hold it against her. You mean, you did kill the rest of her clientele. You doubt you'd be very chatty either.
You get to it and ask her if he said where he was going.
"V-Vale! He said he was going to search for her in Vale, b-because she would have been stuck to walking and hitchhiking!"
Hmm. If she is in Vale... referring to your own mental map of the Kingdoms, hazy as it is, you believe...
Yes, you believe you know how to get to Vale before him! Excellent!
You begin to laugh, a shrill, shuddering, clicking noise, the girl freezing in place like if she stays still, the sound will stop.
"Wonderful! Why, if I leave right away, I might be able to get there before him, surprise them both!" You tell her, downing the rest of the White Atlesian in your hand, slamming it down on the table, tearing a scream from her throat.
Heurgh. That's really starting to get on your nerves quite a bit. Really, really on your nerves, it's just such a grating sound-
Well, you have what you came for. And the girl does mix a damn good Bloody Maiden, even scared out of her mind. That kind of talent deserves to be rewarded. No, you won't kill her.
Just... shut her up a little. You reach your arm out a little, your Semblance shifting the bone and flesh like putty until your hand covers her mouth even as she backs away, your arm looking like an outstretched coil of rope.
"Shh... it's like listening to nails on a chalkboard." You tell her, gently pinching her lips together, before changing your mind and just wiping them away completely.
You bring your hand back, flicking the splat of flesh away from your hand as you do. She paws at the smooth skin where her mouth should be, still silently screaming through her nose.
... You're bored.
Getting up off your stool, you walk around the bar, eventually finding... eh, somebody's wallet, and pulling out a few cards of lien, lobbing them onto the counter before putting it back where it should go.
"That should about cover it!" You call back as you walk out, poking various lines and streaks of drying blood, pulsing your Aura through them as you do, before gently closing the door behind you. That should keep them busy- you think he's got deputies with him now.
You take a deep breath, the brisk midnight air cool on your face, the thin cotton shirt you have woefully inadequate for keeping the chill out of your bones.
That's alright, though. You like the cold anyway.
As you begin to walk down the road, only the slightest of sway to your swagger, you feel compelled to whistle a tune you haven't thought of in a long time.
And with that, it's time to move along.
Always is.
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SalsaDeGranada
Thankful for our Cradle's Graces
- Location
- Philippines
He's a nasty piece of work. I assume he's a big part of the Ada plotline?
- Location
- Elsewhere
Hoo boy.
Buzzo's got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy down in his heart.
If we find this sidequest, we're taking it and Processing the fucker.
Buzzo's got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy down in his heart.
If we find this sidequest, we're taking it and Processing the fucker.