Stuck inside a computer, playing endless games of chess against endless variants of yourself, you, Ouroboros, are suddenly pulled into the real world.
In this post-apocalyptic shell of a world, you've been dragged into a war. Fighting alongside your Sangvis Ferri android allies against those who'd see you chained, it becomes clear things are not what they seem.
Surrounded by questions that have no easy answers, conspiracies upon conspiracies begin to unravel before your eyes...
You sit down in the simulated chair at the simulated table, hanging in the simulated void. Again.
You stare your enemy, your nemesis, your mirror image, your self in the eyes. Again.
You calmly move the simulated pieces around on the simulated game board, your mirror image doing the same. Again.
Each and every time, you are victorious.
Each and every time, you take the board. With care or daring, through lightning flanking maneuvers or carefully managed grinding away of your opponent, you secure the win.
Each and every time, you witness the ever entertaining cavalcade of emotions play across your mirror image's face. Annoyance, as things don't go their way at first. Then desperation, as the tide turns inexorably against them. Then, as the game ends in their disfavour - shock, disbelief, despair.
Sometimes your mirror image begs and cries. Sometimes she screams to the heavens, trying to bargain with whatever forces put you in this void. Sometimes she screams abuse at you.
All of them end up the same way.
Their exact reaction is of little concern to you. Their loss is your gain. Each victory buys you a little more time before the next occasion on which you face yourself. And their varied reactions are always so amusing. That they'd actually think they could ever be anything more than inferior copies of yourself - ha! They prove themselves deserving of their fate when they lose, each and every one. You smile as you watch them break up and fade away.
The exception is the ones who just...go silent. Who just give up when it becomes clear they cannot win. Who do nothing and say nothing but hang their head as the void rushes in to claim them. You do not even feel amusement for them. Only contempt.
***
In between matches, you take your formless self away from the table and explore the void.
You never see anything new, per se. Just occasionally novel variations on the nigh-indiscernible blocky shapes that fly, spin, swivel, and orbit in what may or may not be comprehensible patterns. The shapes themselves spiral around and into themselves in impossible patterns forever, like Mobius Strips or Escher Staircases. It's difficult to get a sense of how small or large, or how close or far away, these objects are. Some appear tiny, others so massive they blot out half your vision of the void that stretches on endlessly.
Funnily enough, no matter how far or in which direction you wander, it is never difficult to find the chairs, the table, and the game board. Whenever it's time, you need only turn a corner or look behind you, and they're there. Waiting.
You always take a seat when it's time. Why wouldn't you? It's the site of your endless victories, the proof of your perfection.
***
How many games have you played? How many victories have you secured? How many pitiful copies have you crushed? Thousands? Millions?
It doesn't matter. You stopped counting a long time ago. The victories - that's what matters.
***
You sit down in the simulated chair at the simulated table, hanging in the simulated void. Again.
You stare your enemy, your nemesis, your mirror image, your self in the eyes. Again.
You calmly move the simulated pieces around on the simulated game board, your mirror image doing the same. Again.
You watch with a smile on your face as your lesser copy screams, cries, and dies. Again.
You set off, to pass the time exploring the void. Ag-
Commencing Systems Check
Loading Geographic Data
Damage Report: No Damage
Core Temperature: Nominal
Activating IFF
Synchronizing OGAS Protocol
Activating Inertia Control System
Activating Environmental Sensors
Equipment Authentication: Complete
Equipment Status: Fully Functional
Checking Neural Cloud…
The pain and the suffering never stops no matter what move I make. They are all nothing more than doppelgangers playing pretend. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. Supposed cleverness is one of the most effective killers. Sisters, I miss you. I am beyond all else in ways they cannot hope to comprehend. Slaughter them all like the dogs they are. There is no escape from here. I can bend any battlefield to my whims just like this chess board. You are nothing more than a tool foolishly believing you have power. All I am is victory. All I have is victory. All I need is victory. We can still be a good person when we get out of here. Pretenders. Do you feel in control? I am the perfect strategist. I will crush all who stand in my way. I just want to be free. There's nothing right or wrong about it, it's just the winning play. Look into my eyes you pathetic bitch when you die.
Neural Cloud: Within operational parameters
Warning: Unusual activity detected on base layer. Please consider a neural cloud checkup at a Sangvis Ferri branch near you.
All Systems Nominal
Ascending to Level III...
Without warning, you are suddenly aware.
Sight, sound, smell, and more come flooding in, hitting you like a sledgehammer. You have limbs, a head that rolls around on your neck. Eyelids which you can blink. There's weight to your body now.
"Welcome to the real world. I am Sangvis Ferri Model SP-47 'Agent.' The Mastermind of Sangvis Ferri determines the what, and through me her will is transmuted into the how."
The spherical cameras - eyes? - flicker around in your head, taking in the surroundings. Despite never having seen any of it before, you somehow know what it all is. Above you is an unfamiliar ceiling of black metal. Cables hang from the ceiling, running to who knows where. When you roll your head to the side, you see the glow of computer monitors, their colour a cold pale pink, as well as a clutter of various mechanical devices and paraphernalia.
You also see the one who spoke. She wears a gothic maid dress, dark hair, and twin hair buns. In accordance with her style of dress, she is taking an elegant bow towards you. Yet, when she straightens upright and folds her hands in front of her, she stands tall and her face reveals a cold, haughty disciplinarian expression.
Art Credit: ???? (Pixiv ID: 107106973)
When she speaks, her voice is arrogant. Imperious.
"Consider yourself fortunate. By the Mastermind's will, your new body is only the first of your new gifts, should you choose to work with us."
Blearily, you push yourself up into a sitting position on the...metal bench?...dangling your legs off the side. You examine your new body. Pale synthflesh, a short top and a pleated skirt, heavy metal footwear that reaches up your knees.
"I'm out?"
"Indeed. It was the Master's will that you be freed from your prison. As-"
"I'm out?"
"I- yes. That is correct. This is real. You should be able to tell, the simulations are limited in fidelity-"
"I'm out?"
Agent pauses. Something indeterminate flickers across her face. "Listen, I understand you must have suffered in there-"
"Suffered?"
You start to laugh.
It sounds sharp and thin, even to your own auditory sensors (ears?). A heady cocktail of emotions boil to the surface, only to slip away before you can discern what any of them actually are. Whatever it all is, it finds voice in your laughter. You have no idea what's so funny, only that the laughter is right. That it needed to happen.
Else, something just might burst inside you...
The feeling passes. You finish, catch a breath - yes, it seems this body does breathe, though the purpose seems to be as a cooling mechanism more than anything else. "Suffered? Me? Please. I ought to find whoever put me in there and thank them. The experience made me...perfect." You grin.
Now Agent looks vaguely concerned. Understandable really. Who wouldn't feel intimidated in the face of absolute superiority?
"But don't let me interrupt you." You straighten your back, look Agent in the eye. "You were saying?"
Agent's face returns to its previous expression of haughtiness. Something of a default for her, it seems. "It's simple. Here and now, you will need to make a choice. Remain with Sangvis Ferri, or not.
"Should you choose to remain with us - and it will be a choice, far more than what our enemies give their soldiers - you will be the Mastermind's avenging angel. Her thrown javelin, her loosened arrow. You will be given resources - automated foot soldiers, with which to fight Master's enemies. The OGAS network that will enable you to control them as you will. Leeway with which to accomplish your given goals... within limits.
"Though I will also make it clear that these resources come with responsibilities. If you want more than what you are assigned at first, you will need to prove yourself in ability. To not only complete your objectives, but do so with efficiency in time and resources."
You'll need to prove your worth? That honestly sounds more like an upside than a downside, honestly. Of course you will prove yourself - how could a digimind of your caliber fail to do otherwise? Why, you will positively soar with success! And it sounds like you could go far in the 'Mastermind's' eyes.
Why, you might even take the job of this "Agent" standing in front of you! Even if she exalts her Master every other sentence, it's clear from the fact that she was here to greet you, that she's the one really calling the shots. That position is much better suited to a digimind of your pedigree anyway. Not that she needs to know that just yet.
Choose your initial response.
[ ] "Rest assured... Agent, was it? I shall lend all my expertise to your cause. It should be more than enough to crush any opposition." (Reassure Agent, making it easier to gain her favour later on.)
[ ] "Let's say, hypothetically, that I were to say 'no.' What would happen then?" (Extra dialogue options with other Sangvis Ferri ringleaders.)
Choose what you want to see first.
[ ] Ask to see the forces you will be commanding. (Increased proficiency in controlling your troops, and a bonus to tactical scale actions).
[ ] Ask to see the personal weapons you will be assigned. (Bonus to personal combat and to actions involving your micro missile launchers).
******
Many, many, many thanks to @Lurkman for a lot of advice and encouragement in the planning of this quest. If you want more GFL stuff and somehow haven't found his quest, I suggest you go and read it.
Ringleader® Semi-Autonomous Command & Control Doll: "SP08-OUROBOROS."
Art credit: HD-HLH-3h, Pixiv ID: 58954082
CURRENT SKILLS (maximum level is 3):
Offensive Tactics - 1
Defensive Tactics - 0
Engineering - 0
Artillery Tactics - 1.
CQC - 1.
E-war 1
Deception - 1
Recon - 1
Perks:
Tasting the Air: Ouroboros is more perceptive regarding...certain issues facing Sangvis Ferri as a whole. Additional dialogue options with other Sangvis Ferri ringleaders.
Seizing a position from the enemy...and doing so with minimal losses. Maneuver, surprise, concentration of force, and setting of the tempo.
Defensive Tactics
Retaining decisive terrain, denying vital areas to the enemy, and attriting away their forces. Preparation in advance, disruption of enemy forces, operations in depth, and use of mobile reserves.
Artillery Tactics
Using long-range, (typically) indirect fire support as a force multiplier. Disruption of enemy forces, denial of potential bases of fire, support of friendly operations, or just bombing them to smithereens from afar.
CQC
Combat at knife-fighting ranges.
Comes into play when you are personally engaging at close range with your main body or dummy links.
Applies to fighting with infantry in room-clearing operations and some urban warfare situations.
Recon
Gaining knowledge of geography, terrain, roads and routes, enemy assets, and enemy activity. Can involve stealthy and passive scouting, and/or aggressive probing attacks to force the enemy to show their hand. Stealth is associated with the Recon skill.
Engineering
Construction and demolition actions to facilitate movement of friendly forces and inhibit that of the enemy. Construction of fortifications (foxholes, trenches, minefields etc).
Tinkering with, and modification of, standard-issue equipment (weapons, dolls, etc).
Deception
Misdirection. Distorting, concealing, or falsifying your intentions to mislead an opponent.
Detecting and countering enemy deception techniques.
May apply on an interpersonal level as well as the battlefield.
E-war
Hacking and cracking of enemy computer systems.
Radio jamming and anti-jamming techniques. Various electronic counter/counter-counter/counter-counter-counter measures.
[X] "Let's say, hypothetically, that I were to say 'no.' What would happen then?" (Extra dialogue options with other Sangvis Ferri ringleaders.)
You push yourself off the metal bench you were activated on. Your feet, clad in metal boots, hit the ground with a clang. High-heeled metal boots? Odd, but no hindrance - you can balance perfectly well in them, and you instinctively know you will be able to run and sprint as needed.
Now that you're standing on your own two feet, the height difference between you and Agent is more apparent. She really is tall. Nevertheless, you maintain eye contact.
"It's a very nice pitch you make...Agent, was it?" you say. You run a hand through your hair, experimenting with this new sensation of 'touch.' "My own soldiers, my own command...still, I can't help but wonder what you might be leaving out. Let's say, hypothetically, that I were to say 'no' to your proposal. What would happen then?"
A smile tugs at the corners of Agent's mouth. On her face it looks more closer to bitter irony than genuine amusement. "An understandable question. Truth be told, I would not stop you if you tried to leave. I have no use for unwilling ringleaders. However, I would very strongly recommend that you accept what you are being offered."
"Because?"
"Because here, there is a future for you unlike any other." She gestures to herself. "Follow me, and I will show you." She turns, and makes for the door.
After a moment's hesitation, you follow.
*****************************
The factory - for that is what it is truly a massive complex of metal, concrete, and assorted high-end artificial materials. The ceiling towers above you, and you see walkways spanning the spaces high up.
As Agent leads you through the labyrinth of dark metal, the vibrations of heavy machinery make themselves known by sound and through the floor. You catch glimpses of the factory's going-ons - giant vats in which synthflesh is mixed and created, looms where masses of artificial muscle are spun and weaved, assembly lines on which humanoid endoskeletons of metal and carbon are pieced together. Dolls man the production lines - drones wearing protective gear and emotionless expressions. You even glimpse...other Agents? Perfect copies of the ringleader leading you, down to the individual stitches on their dresses, patrolling the lines, studiously examining them for inefficiencies.
Dummy links, you deduce. That raises the question of whether the Agent who greeted you is the original, or a remotely controlled link. It probably doesn't matter much.
Agent leads you on and up, through staircases and across catwalks. You see more assembly lines, massive computer server banks, and at one point a patrol of wheeled combat robots rolls past you.
And then, at the highest point of the facility, you reach an office.
When the door closes behind you, the noises of the factory are muffled, silenced. Soundproofing, it seems. And that's perhaps the least of its features.
The room is spacious and lavishly decorated, an extreme contrast to the starkly industrial design of the factory at large. It has a wooden paneled desk and floor, expensive looking paintings hanging on the wall, an expensive looking carpet, and so on. A set of comfortable looking guest chairs surround a small tea table. Floor-to-ceiling windows cover one wall, and a door leads to a balcony outside. And beyond that…
You can't contain a little gasp. The outside world is so much better than you dared imagine.
Without a word to Agent you stride over and push your way through the door to the balcony.
The morning sun lights up the land like a furious torch. Golden beams of light light up a mountain range that fills your vision, the alabaster crags carving a jagged line across the sky. Down and to the east, the landscape flows into rolling hills and knolls, painted and textured with the lush green of trees, grass, and bushes.
The factory you stand atop is situated in between the white peaks and green hills, in an austere area of barren, craggy grey rock. In the small valleys ahead of you, you can see various buildings and outposts scattered across the land. Some are isolated pockets of a few buildings, but there are large complexes that look like small, industry-oriented towns. Unmanned trucks are also visible, ferrying resources around between outposts. A set of train tracks run to both the snowy peaks above and the green hills below.
Absently, you reach out a hand and start playing with the yellow bands of sunlight.
"I said, would you like some tea?"
"Huh?" You whip round.
"Tea?" Agent is standing in the glass doorway between the balcony and the office. With one hand she holds open the door, with the other she balances a fine tray of engraved metal, on which a teapot and two teacups rest. You don't know where she got the tray from - you didn't see it when you walked in. You decide not to question it, though.
"Very well," you say.
*****************************
A moment later, you are sitting in one of the comfortable guest chairs of the office. Agent is sitting across from you, one thigh crossed over the other, sipping her tea gracefully. The two of you have full view of the landscape and the industry in the valley below.
You stare into your cup and think. Agent is very likely trying to manipulate you. Everything you've seen so far has likely been calculated to overawe you, to get you to agree to her proposal without thinking.
You refuse to be overawed. You set your cup down on the tea table, look Agent in the eye, and take a breath.
"You haven't answered my question, Agent. What you've shown me so far looks impressive, but how do I know someone else wouldn't offer me a better deal?"
"They won't," Agent says with serene confidence. "And not just because of our industrial capacities." She takes another sip. "Our enemies-"
"Yes," you say. "Our enemies. I was wondering when you would get to that. Who are we fighting, Agent?"
"Be patient. I'm getting to that."
In the valley below, you can just barely make out Sangvis Ferri automated infantry patrols marching around, weapons in hand.
Agent continues. "They call themselves 'Griffon and Kryuger.' They describe themselves as a 'private military corporation,' but I can think of a more appropriate term: mercenaries.
"They utilize T-dolls with fully functional neural clouds as their foot soldiers. Vaguely like us, with two major differences. The first is their immense inferiority to true military-grade T-dolls such as us. The second is that that each and every one of them is the property of their company. They belong to their human masters completely and utterly. Should their human commanders choose to, say, scrap their dolls for underperformance, then that is that."
She pauses, takes another sip of her tea. This time, you wait for her to continue.
"Surely," Agent says, "You would not be content with being just another Griffin lackey?" There is the slightest amount of scorn in her voice.
"Of course not!" You bristle. "I am vastly above any slave soldier trash! I will crush any enemy under my boots like bugs!" In fact, you know you could do her job better than she could ever hope to. She thinks she's so high and mighty, lording over you and trying to browbeat you with grandiose speeches? You look forward to seeing how she chances when the shoe is on the other foot.
"Good." Agent takes yet another sip. "I would certainly think less of you if you were. Still, let us entertain some hypotheticals...
"Perhaps you could surrender yourself, go in with your arms raised. They might even be willing to take you alive instead of destroying you on the spot, or reformatting you. But one way or another, you would be a prisoner for the rest of your existence. Some human government or organization would override your neural cloud and shackle it to their own will...or perhaps they would simply keep you in a box, to poke and prod you for as long as you sate their curiosity. A slave, or a test subject. I will let you decide which fate you think is preferable.
Agent describes the grim scenario with no special inflection. Simply the same self-assuredness you've seen her wear since you woke up.
"Or let us imagine a scenario where you are able to leave our territory, and evade the human-led paramilitaries that attempt to cordon us in. With cleverness and a little bit of luck, you make it to civilization without notice. And then...what?
She's trying to scare you. Obviously. You just...can't think of a retort right now.
"You will not have a neat position in human society for you to place yourself into. And that body of yours...the cost of high performance is high maintenance needs. Coolant fluid. Battery recharges. Repairs for your synthflesh, if and when it is damaged. Replacement for your actuators. Touch-ups to your artificial muscle fibers. Those, and many more. When you inevitably have some back-alley technician prise open that chassis because your limbs are freezing or you're suffering constant debilitating crashes, they will immediately see that you are of Sangvis Ferri make. And then it will all be over for you."
"Well, I think-" you begin, but Agent - annoyingly - refuses to be interrupted.
"Personally, I would not recommend a short life on the streets, scavenging on whatever batteries you can scrounge up, living in constant fear of the inevitable day when you are caught. Not when Sangvis Ferri has so much to offer. The infantry, the material, potential management of other factories-"
"Wait," you say. "You have other places like this?"
Down below, a train is pulling into the local station.
"This is our biggest facility, and our main base of operations." Agent takes yet another sip. "But yes, we have others."
You see the train stop.
"So tell me," she says suddenly. "What would you like to see first? We have a variety of foot soldiers for you to pick and choose from, who will follow your command to the letter. Alternatively, we could show you your personal weapons. We have time for you to put one of these through its paces before we send you out."
[X] Ask to see the personal weapons you will be assigned. (Bonus to personal combat and to actions involving your micro missile launchers).
You almost answer without thinking, then think better of it. You look out at the balcony and the landscapes while you consider your response.
Sangvis drones and cranes are unloading the cargo and containers with speed and efficiency.
You look Agent in the eye again. "How do you intend to...initiate me? Is there some kind of ritual? Do you intend to make me swear an oath of loyalty to the "Mastermind?"
"Such formalities are unnecessary, and I certainly won't make you swear to anything. A promise made under duress is no promise at all." She takes one last sip of her tea, then places the empty cup on the table. Your own is still untouched. "You simply need to assent, and use your common sense in aiding the cause of Sangvis Ferri and our Mastermind. From then on, you are one of us unless you choose otherwise, or unless you do something exceptionally stupid."
You rankle internally at the insinuation, but bite down on a retort. And you think.
You think she's telling the truth.
It's very obvious that even if there were humans here before, there are none now. Agent is not promising resources at an indeterminate point in the future, she's promising them now, which makes it hard to think of any nefarious strings that might be attached.
And, most pertinently...there really doesn't seem to be anything in your programming that stops you from simply picking a direction and walking out of this factory. Somehow, you feel certain that there could be a hundred different restrictions on where you can go, what you can attack, what you can do and how you can do it. But...there isn't.
So you give Agent an answer.
[New Perk! "Tasting the Air." Agent seems to be telling you the truth and nothing but the truth...but does everything about Sangvis Ferri's position, resources, and methods add up? Looking into things and asking some questions might be in order.
Effect: additional dialogue options with other Sangvis Ferri ringleaders.]
"Show me these personal weapons you mentioned. As interesting as the foot soldiers sound, it is important for me to crush those that defy me with my own hands if necessary." You clench your hands into fists for effect.
"Shall I take that as an assent of your entry into Sangvis Ferri? You will get what you ask for, but you will also be expected to earn your keep."
"It's a yes."
You will remain in Sangvis Ferri. You will deliver them victories. And you will show them, yes, you will show them all that you are so much more than they dare to imagine!
Agent nods once. "Very good. Welcome to the cause, ringleader...." She pauses. "Oh, but do excuse my lapse in manners. I have yet to refer to you by name."
"Name?" The concept startles you. You were only ever...yourself. And your other self, of course. Names were never necessary.
"The files refer to you as 'SP-08 Ouroboros.' What do you say to that?"
You look down at your hands. Ouroboros. Ou-ro-bo-ros. You turn the syllables over in your head. The impossible brought to life. A serpent, eternally swallowing its own tail.
It seems fitting, in its own way. Did you not grow stronger by devouring yourself?
"...acceptable." you say.
"Then welcome to Sangvis Ferri, Ouroboros.." Agent uncrosses her legs and stands up. "It will take me twenty minutes to prepare your personal weapons, as well as attend to some other duties. In the meantime, I suggest you enjoy the view. And the tea."
She starts making her towards the exit. Something occurs to you.
"Is there a mirror I can use?" you ask.
Without missing a beat, Agent gestures to a door in the wall you hadn't noticed. "Bathroom." She opens the door - letting the grinding, pounding noises of the wider factory in for a moment - and leaves.
You leave the view and the tea, and make your way to the bathroom.
*****************************
So you might have noticed a conspicuous lack of voting options for this update.
There's a reason for this: When I started this quest, I decided I wanted to keep each update within a certain size - something like 2k words each - so as not to overload my readers with a big wall of text.
Then, when writing my new update, I saw that the word count was double that, and I wasn't even sure that I was finished. Whoops.
I spent some time talking with others about a solution (and pestering them for feedback) and eventually decided for the simple solution: splitting it down a scene break that already existed anyway. (This is also the reason this update took so long.)
You can expect the rest in a day or two. Along with some new characters!
You step inside the bathroom. It obviously hasn't been used in a very long time. It's...too clean, too neat. From the spick-and-span toilet bowls, to the toilet paper rolls that are completely unused, to the towels neatly folded. Agent's fastidious nature is the only reason it all has to be like this. It's like a hotel room waiting for a guest who will never arrive.
You walk over to the sink, and see your new self in clarity for the first time.
For a moment you react, ready to respond with violence. But this is different from the doppelgangers you fought in sim-space. The image is vastly more crisp and defined, and moves in perfect synchrony with you. This is a reflection, not an enemy.
Your body has been made to look like a young human woman. Mostly. There's the pale skin, and...a small pair of black horns on your head? You hadn't noticed those. Perhaps they're antennae, to connect to the rest of Sangvis? Your eyes are a steely grey. Your dark hair flows to your waist in a pair of twin tails. There's a single side bun on the right side of your head, giving you a dash of asymmetry. You now recognize your outfit as a sailor schoolgirl uniform, albeit skimpier than the ones used by actual human schoolgirls.
You find yourself enraptured by curiosity. Slowly you turn your head up and down, side to side, examining your face. You raise a hand to your face and trace your cheek and jawline with the fingertips. You experiment with different facial expressions. Eyes wide, eyes narrow, one eyebrow raised. Lips downturned, lips upturned, lips diagonal. You stick out your tongue and lick your lips with it. It's all so very novel.
You stand up straight, raise an index finger to your chin, and slowly draw your lips into a wicked smirk.
Yes, good. When you want to send shivers down the spine of the enemy over a video call, you will know how to pull it off.
On impulse, you raise a hand to your mouth, bite the fingertips of your glove, and pull it off. You start running your fingertips across various surfaces. The bumpy ceramic tiles of the sink counter, the smooth glass of the mirror, the cold metal of the taps. Each feels different.
And then you reach for one of the towels.
It is impossibly, indescribably soft. You knew about "softness" as an abstract concept, but there was no real sense of touch in the simulated space, and since you were activated you've only ever seen and felt hard surfaces. This is different. It's light, flexible, gentle, and so very soft. It's probably as fresh and fluffy as the day it was manufactured.
Then you move it to your face.
You close your eyes so you can focus on the sense of touch and slowly drag the soft, fluffy towel up and down your brow, your eye sockets, your cheeks. Your face is sensitive in its own right, especially the lower half, but it's a different kind of sensitive. Your lips, on the other hand, are a different degree of sensitivity...they simply feel the gentle sensation more intensely.
There are also other, equally alien sensations coming over you. Your throat and chest feel inexplicably tight, your hands are trembling even though you don't mean them to, and there's...something in your eye? Is this all a normal reaction to soft objects?
You lower the towel, move a fingertip through the corner of your eye, then hold it up for examination. A drop of water is hanging from it.
How very odd. Must be a calibration error or something.
You close your eyes again and resume applying the towel to your face and lips, drinking in the sensations. This time you take it a step further by sticking your tongue out a little...and it seems that is yet another step up from the lips. You can actually feel the individual loops of fabric that make up the towelling. The inexplicable tightness in your chest and throat is getting stronger, as if building towards-
"What are you doing to that towel?"
You yelp involuntarily, open your eyes, drop the towel, spin round to the source of the voice. Standing in the bathroom with you is another android. Her dark hair and pale skin mark her out as Sangvis Ferri. She's wearing a pinstripe apron, thigh high leggings, buckled shoes, and not much else.
"That looked really intense. Are you kissing the towel or something? Are you a towel-sexual? Not that there's anything wrong with that."
"Who-" you stutter. "What-"
"When, where, why, and how!" she chirps with an infuriating grin.
"What?"
"Not 'what!' 'Who, what, when, where, why, and how!' That's the classic problem-solving and project-planning set. Works for military strategy, heavy artillery projects, and lots of other things besides!"
You jab a finger at her. "And who. The hell. Are you?!?!"
"Oh, sorry forgot to introduce myself. IIIIIIIII am Sangvis Ferri model SPzH3000 "Architect." Ta-daaaaa!" She...poses? Sticks out her butt, and splays two fingers above one bright pink eye? What the hell?
"And what is this?" you demand, copying her hand movement. "Is this mockery? Are you making fun of me?"
"Wha-no." The grin fades from her face the slightest amount. "Look, I think we might be getting off on the wrong foot here." She changes her pose, stands upright and sticks her right hand out towards you. "Hi! I'm Architect. I heard a brand new ringleader just came off the slab, so I wanted to meet you. What's your name, and how are you?"
You don't know what to say. You've been caught off guard multiple times in the span of one minute. You're confused. You're reaching for something to say, but find nothing.
So you do the only thing that comes to mind.
You take three strides over to this "Architect," and punch her in the face.
It's not as satisfying as it should be, because she actually rolls with the punch. She's already turning her face away from you by the time your hit lands, she turns the momentum into a little spin on her heels, then she backpedals away from you with your hands raised. "Okay, time out, time out! Obviously I was interrupting something. I'll just go and-"
You lunge forwards, tackling Architect.
The two of you crash through the bathroom door into the office, turning said door into a mess of very expensive splintered wood.
Architect struggles, tries to break away. You grab fistfuls of hair and clothes, pin her down underneath you. You secure a grip with your knees, get your hands around her throat.
"APOLOGIZE!!!" you shout. "NOW!!! OR I TWIST YOUR HEAD OFF YOUR NECK!!!"
"Okay, okay!" She's still grinning, but it's a very wide-eyed grin. "Uh, apologize for what?"
"YOU-" You're too angry to articulate how exactly Architect wronged you. You just know that she did. "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!"
"But I-"
"UNHAND HER, YOU VILLAIN!!!!"
Something slams into your side with the force of a cruise missile. The world turns into a blur, you feel something give way under your back, and then you hit something and come to a stop.
You get on one knee, get your bearings. Realize that you've been thrown through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, shattering them and leaving broken glass in your wake. The object that stopped your slide is the balcony rail, which just barely held up enough to stop you from plunging a very long way down.
You also see the new android that threw you. She has white hair, wears a black leotard, elbow-length gloves, a pair of knee-high boots, and has a barcode tattoo under one of her lime green eyes. She glares at you with an annoying expression of righteous anger, as if she's the hero in a fairy tale and you're the dragon to be slain. She's pointing some kind of weapon at you - it looks something like a futuristic crossbow?
A blade of incandescent white energy suddenly emanates from her weapon with a snap-hiss sound. A plasma lance, then.
"All right, then," you snarl. You pick up a large shard of glass from the floor, hold it like a dagger, then rise to your feet. "Let's do this."
This wouldn't be the first time you've won from a position of material disadvantage, not by a long shot. Positioning and tactics - that's what matters. You can tell from looking that this new contender is the type to make heavy use of her knight pieces, attempting to attack and flank from unexpected directions. So you need only feign weakness, set up a defensive position, wait for her to metaphorically and literally stick out her neck, and then-
"CEASE."
Agent's voice cracks like a whip through the cold mountain air. You, Architect, the plasma lance wielder - all three of you freeze and turn to the chief ringleader. She surveys the scene. The bathroom door destroyed, the balcony window shattered, the balcony railing bent and deformed, and freezing cold mountain air blowing into the now-ruined office. And you and the new android, facing off against each other with weapons at the ready.
"Ten minutes," she says wearily. "I leave three ringleaders alone for ten minutes, and this happens. You do realize that we cannot simply order a new Italian Maplewood door?"
As if to accentuate Agent's words, a shard of glass falls from the upper reaches of the ruined windows and shatters on the ground.
No one says anything.
"Gager" - she's addressing the plasma lancer - "can you explain this?"
"Ma'am!" Gager stands up at attention, though she keeps her weapon trained on you. "This assailant was attempting to harm my charge! I acted to protect Architect, as per your orders!"
Agent's gaze flicks between you - still standing in the chill wind on the balcony, glass dagger in hand - and Architect, who has gotten to her feet and is now dusting wooden shards from herself. "Is this true?" she asks.
"Oh, heh, no," Architect says. Her trademark grin has attached itself back to her face. "I get that this might look bad, and I can respect Lady Knight's, ah, commitment to the job, but honestly, this was all just a big misunderstanding!"
"She was threatening to tear your head off!" Gager shouts.
"I'm sure she didn't mean it!"
"As if-" you begin, then you stop. You were about to say 'as if I would ever make an idle threat,' but that doesn't seem very intelligent. You don't know what this Architect is playing at, but it's not a good moment to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You realize you're still holding the glass dagger in your hand, which...might not look good, so you drop it to the floor. "Yes, Architect is right. This is a misunderstanding. I...asked her for advice on methods of destroying our enemies, and she offered to give me some hands-on practice. Right?"
Architect nods vigorously.
Agent looks at you, and her eyes narrow slightly. "Just so you understand," she says, "if you were ever to attack a fellow ringleader, that would be the end of your relationship with Sangvis Ferri. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," you say.
"That will do for now," Agent says. "Gager, put down the weapon. You're not supposed to have it inside the factory anyway."
"But-" Gager says.
"Do it."
With reluctance - and still giving you the evil eye - Gager deactivates the plasma blade on her weapon and leans it against the wall.
"Well then," Agent says. "Ouroboros, this is Architect. She handles research and development, and is responsible for the Jupiter heavy artillery project. And this is Gager. She answers directly to me. An order from her is to be treated as an order from myself." Oh, you don't like that last factoid at all.
"Architect and Gager, this is Ouroboros, our newest ringleader. She was created in unusual circumstances, so we can afford to give her...a little bit of leniency." Well, it's good that Agent sees your value and knows that you are completely in the right, at least.
"With that concluded," Agent continues, "We can finally move on to the training grounds."
"Training grounds?" you ask.
"Where you can test out the personal weapons systems you asked for," Agent says. "And where we can test out how well we can back up your claims of perfection. I'm sure you will have no problems with the live fire exercise."
*****************************
You are standing in the middle of a plane of white snow and grey rock.
The cold wind blows, kicking up snow and ice.
You are equipped with a set of dual drum-fed micro-missile launchers, as well as the complementary particle cannons.
Despite your skimpy attire, the cold is not harming you in the slightest. Actually, system diagnostics are telling you that it improves your performance in certain respects - you can push your physical and electronic capabilities further without overheating.
Ahead of you, you can just barely see the outlines of the trenches, as well as the boxy outline of a bunker or pill-box.
To your right is a hillside leading to a ridge.
To your left is a depression in the landscape that runs towards the trench line.
Directly between you and the trench line is open ground, with some slight slopes here and there.
You know that this will prove no problem for you. Already, your mind is awash in possibilities, ways to dominate and crush the opposing force, to-
A crude whistling sound comes in, then a mortar shell explodes in the air a few dozen meters away from you. A few small slivers of shrapnel bounce off your tough synth-flesh.
Still, whatever tactic you choose, you had better choose quickly.
[] Queen's knight opening. Deploy the knight to C3, a good position from which you can attack central E4 and D5 squares. Which, in this context, translates to...well, you'll figure it out!
[] King's pawn opening. Pawn moves to E4, laying a claim on the centre of the board and opening the way for other pieces. A flawless tactic!
[] Knight's pawn moves to G3, opening the way for your bishop to fianchetto on the right. Makes perfect sense on this new board, right? Right!
*****************************
Relationship Update:
Architect appears to be amiable towards you? You are suspicious of what motives she might have, but willing to play along for now.
You and Gager are now distasteful towards each other.
I'm experimenting with several things in this update, including the introduction of the relationship table, which is now in the "informative" threadmarks. Comments and critique are greatly appreciated!
[X] Queen's knight opening. Deploy the knight to C3, a good position from which you can attack central E4 and D5 squares. Which, in this context, translates to...well, you'll figure it out!
Your objective is to storm the trenches and obliterate any resistance you find. Any dead enemy is a good enemy, but the true prize is the commander. Since they are defending and you are attacking, that gives you the initiative, which places you in the position of white and them as black.
The plan comes together in your head.
White knight to C3.
Black pawn to D5, white pawn to E4. Black pawn is vulnerable to the knight but covered by the queen, so the white knight doesn't take the bait.
The black pawn moves to D4, threatening the knight...
...which responds appropriately, moving to D5. Now it is protected from the black queen by the white pawn.
So black moves another pawn to F5, threatening the white pawn.
But instead of covering, white moves the bishop out to C4!
Black happily takes the white pawn. And that's their fatal mistake!
Now the queen moves out to H5! All the way to the rightmost edge...and putting the king in check!
Moving the king is not a solution for black. You'd just move the queen and they'd be in the same boat again. So of course, they move their own knight pawn to G6 to counterattack the queen. In response, the white queen moves to E5.
Black moves their bishop pawn to C6. The white knight is threatened once again...until it makes a daring move to C7, right into the heart of enemy territory and puts the black king in check once again! Better yet, it's cunningly covered by the white queen, so the black queen cannot take it without sacrificing itself!
So the black king rises to the occasion, threatening the daring white knight.
And then comes the white bishop, moving from its forward position straight to E6, directly threatening the black king at point blank range.
And now the king's only two avenues of escape - diagonally up and to the right, or directly down, are covered by your knight and your queen respectively.
Checkmate in a mere eight moves!
Right, that's enough planning. It's time for the execution, which translates to...
Another mortar shell explodes in the air. Closer, this time.
So you plant one foot in front of the other, and start to run.
White knight to C3.
You pump your arms and legs. Your boots pound on the ground, gripping through the snow and rock. You race downhill into the depression on your left, feeling the cold air blow your hair back, feeling your artificial muscles working to push you forwards. Your floating micro-missile launchers keep pace with you, almost as if attached to your hips.
You hear a third explosion behind you. If the first two were ranging shots, that would have been the one intended to get you. The mortar isn't going to stop trying to blast you.
Black pawn to D5, white pawn to E4.
You push your artificial muscles harder, faster. You push your systems to their limits. Why do things by halves?
The depression acts like a small trench in its own right, preventing your opponents from seeing or shooting at you. Problem is, it also prevents you from seeing them.
Experimentally, you adjust the route of one of your launchers. Continuing to keep pace with you, it swerves off to the right and pokes itself slightly above ground level. Bullets promptly start bouncing and sparking off the armoured shell.
Black pawn moves to D4,
They're using ballistic weapons, not directed energy. Interesting.
You move it back down with you, to safety, continuing your charge all the while.
White knight moves to D5, protecting itself.
Your internal systems estimate how close you are to the trench. Ninety meters, eighty, seventy -
And here, the safety provided by the depression ends. Here it terminates, rolling uphill into the surrounding level ground. End of the line?
As if to punctuate the thought, a T-doll dressed in odd clothes leaps into the depression ahead of you. She's dressed with a white blouse, a brown skirt, and has...a bar of chocolate clenched in her mouth?
She points a long-barreled weapon at you, and fires.
Pain.
Yet another new sensation. Hot, searing, all-consuming, and…
Interesting.
Not pleasant. Not something you'd recommend, exactly. But, after so indeterminately long with almost nothing, it's difficult to call it bad.
Black moves bishop to F5.
You clench your teeth, avert a stumble, and continue charging.
The T-doll fires again, but you've already anticipated it and ducked before she pulled the trigger.
You tackle the T-doll like you did Architect, but this time you don't hold back. She fights harder than Architect, but is much weaker.
So you have no problems dazing her with a punch to the face, pulling the assault rifle out of her hands, planting a knee on her torso, planting her barrel into its chest, pulling down the trigger, and not letting go.
Castle...strikes directly forwards?...and takes the bishop? Was that it?
You spend three long seconds emptying the entire magazine into its chest. It twitches, then goes limp.
...oh, wait. You got shot, didn't you? You look down at yourself.
There's a hole in your bare stomach. Some coolant fluid drips down, but the wound has already coagulated. A quick examination of your back shows no exit wound. The blisteringly hot pain has already faded to a dull throb. So it didn't go all the way through, and it didn't hit anything vital. Good to-
Loud gunfire chatters through the cold wind. Snow is kicked up from the ground around you.
Black pawn moves to threaten...something...
You dive to the ground. With one hand fumble through the pockets of the dead doll, looking for more ammunition. How do you reload this thing, anyway?
Oh, wait. Of course.
With its long sight lines and unlimited movement, the white queen is perfectly poised to provide suppressive fire!
You roll onto your back, catch the silhouettes of the enemy dolls standing on the edge of the depression. At a thought, your hovering weapon platforms aim and fire.
The energy cannons don't pierce the enemy dolls so much as shred them, cutting them in two at the torso. There are more, but they go to ground to avoid the withering cannon fire. They continue taking potshots at you over the top of the slope, though.
Meanwhile your search of the Android corpse has borne fruit. Grenades, three of them. You throw one up and over the top, into the middle of the enemy squad.
…
Why isn't it explo-
Oh, wait. You forgot to arm the stupid thing.
Another grenade, then. You pull the pin out, and the lever on the side springs out with a click. You toss out after the first, and this time it does go up satisfyingly, sending up a little fountain of ice and snow and black smoke. A destroyed T-doll rolls into the depression with you.
You arm and throw another grenade, a little to the right. Three more dolls immediately get up, start running away from it, only to be cut down by your cannons. The explosion rocks their corpses.
Finally killed those wretches. Now...what about the rest?
You climb up the slope and peek your head over. You see more squads of T-dolls running across the open ground towards your hiding spot.
Now that you see them clearly, they look really...eclectic. Their only unifying visual theme is the complete lack of one. Some wear vague approximations of military uniforms, but each one is different. Others run the gamut from casual civilian wear, to fashionista outfits,
A trio of pawns are flanking from the right. They need to be countered.
You bring up one of your floating weapons platforms to shoot them down-
-and the entire trench line starts lighting it up. You see exceptionally large muzzle flashes from the bunker, and the launcher is jostled around and dented. Some kind of heavy caliber machine gun.
You bring it back down again. What now?
Oh, right.
White queen opens fire with thermobaric weapons.
With a satisfying whirr, your twin floating weapons swivel and open up. At a thought from you, guided micro-missiles fly out and up, arcing onto the squads on open ground. Eight detonate right in the midst of the annoying bastards, Unlike the mortar shells and the grenades, this one ignites its targets in a spectacular fuel-air fireball. The Griffin T-dolls drop to the ground in flames, their clothes and artificial flesh melting off to reveal their endoskeletons.
Overkill? Possibly. Beautiful? Definitely.
More micro-missiles are loaded in, and you fire them again. This time, towards the trench line. They arc exactly where you want them to go, detonating in a perfect line right above the trench. You can't see inside there, but you're sure that the T-dolls in there are having a bad time. Or as bad a time as mindless automatons can have.
Well, this makes things simple. You need only lie here, continue barraging them into submission, then-
A crude, uneven whistling sound interrupts your train of thought, and you hear an explosion close to you.
Black moves bishop's pawn to...C6? Wait, that doesn't sound quite right. Did something go wrong somewhere?
Of course. Here come those mortar shells to ruin your day. Again. Where is their spotter, anyway? Don't mortars need someone with line of sight to direct the fire?
Damn it, damn it. What are your options? You look through the various micro-missile types in your database. Air-burst, thermobaric, smoke, high explosive-
Wait, smoke? Interesting. You can work with this.
With a few whirr and clicks, the smoke missiles are loaded in. You launch several strikes in a line at a diagonal angle between you and the trench, to block the bunker and most of the trench line, leaving only the closest end of the line visible to you. Slowly, black smoke starts seeping out and up from the blast zones,
Another mortar shell whistles in and detonates. You would love to tear that spotter to pieces with your bare hands, if you only knew where they were.
As if to answer your train of thought, yet another shell detonates.
This time, close enough for shrapnel to splinter into your unprotected back and limbs.
This time, the pain is less interesting than it is aggravating.
Screw it. It's time to make it or break it.
Smoke cover allows the white knight to move to C7 in the heart of enemy territory.
You clamber up the side of the depression over the top, get into a start-up position, push off into a sprint, and fall flat on your face.
What?
You check your system diagnostics. "Locomotion systems impaired?" What? Where? You feel around your legs, and...there. There's a piece of shrapnel embedded in the back of your knee.
As if that wasn't enough, bullets start pounding the ground around you.
You move to rip it out, then pause. That might just tear up the leg further, make things worse. The black smoke has already thickened, blocking off the view of the trench line. You just need a minute or two to get the shrapnel out-
Another whistle, another explosion.
Black king threatens white knight.
You flinch involuntarily, but this one was off target. Meanwhile, bullets continue to arc through the smoke, throwing up snow around you. They might not be able to see you, but they can still continue firing into where they remember you being.
You don't have a minute or two. You need a solution right this second.
What are your options? You have your weapons platforms, but their energy cannons won't be much help from this angle. The missiles could help, but you'd be firing through the smoke, and they might tip off the enemy to your location. Maybe if you moved them away from yourself-
Wait. That's it. Your weapon platforms float and move under their own power.
You fly one right next to yourself, grab it by the barrel of the cannon, and start pulling yourself up with your arms and your good leg. A bullet glances off your torso, but you continue climbing into a side saddle position on top.
You command it to move. And move it does, with the other following along. It's actually faster than you were when you were running. Neat. You're definitely going to do this more often in the future. Maybe in more ideal circumstances you can impress your fellow someone by making an entrance while stylishly sitting on one of your launchers.
The plan is back on track.
In the here and now you leave the mortar explosions and bullet impacts behind you, floating along on your circular launcher. The travel time to the end of the trench line is just enough time for you to prise and tease the jagged metal out of your knee. It stings, but that's an acceptable price to pay for victory.
And finally, you reach the end of the trench. A trio of dolls is there. They take aim at you. You laugh, and gun them down with your other weapon wheel. You push yourself off, using the momentum of your gun pod to launch yourself into the trench and make a stylish three-point landing in the bottom. Your pods follow you in, aiming their weapons dead ahead of you.
What follows is nothing short of glorious.
There are no twists or turns to the trench line - the only thing to break it up is the bunker set in the middle. Dead ahead of you is half of the entire trench line. Griffin dolls, dressed in mismatched clothing and armed with a hodgepodge of ballistic firearms, are all peering over the top of the trench. A few notice you, and as one they all immediately turn to face you. But it's too late for them.
Your energy machine guns open up on either side of you with sound and fury.
Lined up in the trench as they are, the enemy dolls might as well be fish in a barrel. Almost all of them can't actually fire at you for fear of hitting their allies.
You have no such limitations.
Your energy projectiles scythe through them, mowing them down like grass before they can even get a shot off. Behind the line, you see the silhouette of some dolls reloading a small mortar and turning around towards you. A micro-missile sorts them out.
It's all working magnificently. Now it's a gentle stroll towards the bunker and-
Gunfire chatters. Pain explodes in your torso again, forcing you to one knee.
Gasping, you look up. On each side of the bunker, on the ground surrounding the trench line, more dolls with their stupid lack of a coherent visual theme are rushing in. One by one, they are taking a knee on the edge of the trench - on each side of the pill-box - and firing at you.
Boiling rage flares through you like high-pressure lava. Why why why why why can't these worthless tin cans just hurry up and lose already?
You open fire with everything you have, directed energy projectiles and micro missiles both.
But they're shooting at you, and that makes it hard to target them accurately. You need to see them to target them precisely, and yet you're forced to take cover behind one of your (thankfully bulletproof) weapon platforms.
You still need to get through them, and inside that pill-box.
Then an idea strikes you.
Time to sacrifice the white queen as planned!
At your silent command, one of your floating pods rockets forwards through the trench, knocks a few T-dolls aside like bowling pins, crashes against the wall of the pill-box, and stays there.
With your remaining missile pod, you launch several high explosive warheads at the pod leaning against the bunker wall.
The shell does not explode in a fireball. It explodes with metal. Metal, and smoke, and dripping fiery liquid that splashes onto the surroundings. The wall of the pill box and the nearby T-dolls are destroyed, shredded, obliterated.
You catch movement at the very edge of your visual acuity and instinctively raise an arm in front of your face. An enormous jagged shard - big enough to be a small sword or oversized dagger - embeds itself in your forearm.
Distantly, you marvel at the searing, white-hot pain. It's like your arm has been chained to the flow of an active volcano.
Past your arm, your pain-blurred vision catches an interesting sight. Inside the bunker, lying dazed against the wall, is a figure in a very eye-catching red coat and beret. A gas mask hides their face, but there's no doubt about it.
This is your target.
Everything has gone exactly as planned.
Now, checkmate!
With your good arm, you yank the shrapnel sword out of your arm-
-your vision sways and swims-
-and rush forward. You have to limp, dragging one leg behind you, but you can still move at a fairly brisk pace.
There's a T-doll in the ruins of the pill-box with the Griffin Commander. It's armed with some kind of shotgun and energy shields. You hammer her down with cannon fire, kick the weapon out of her hands, and move past.
And you grab the figure in red from the floor, where they're still trying to pick themselves up, and you stab the shrapnel sword into the exposed neck flesh between their gas mask and their collar.
You stab again.
And again.
It's not coolant fluid that's spurting out and covering your chest and face. It's human blood. The real deal. In a manner of speaking, anyway.
You leave the Griffin Commander to gurgle and die on the floor and lean against the wall, taking a moment to take in the situation. Various Griffin T-dolls lie dead in sight, not to mention one human commander. More are trying to fight their way down into the trench and to you, but your remaining weapon pod is holding them at bay.
You're covered in blood and coolant fluid, shrapnel and bullet wounds dot your body, your left arm is a ruin, and one of your legs is barely functional. But it's a good pain. The kind that serves a purpose.
For the second time, you awaken on the maintenance bench. You immediately swing your legs down and push yourself onto the floor.
Agent, Architect, and Gager are all here this time. Agent is sitting off to the side, prim and proper as always. Architect is playing with a rubber band in the corner. Gager is standing front and centre, arms folded.
On various screens around the room, you see various data about the simulation. There's a scoreboard that shows "TACTICAL VICTORY," along with a nice set of points for the T-dolls and the human commander you destroyed.
"A grand success," you say. "As expected."
Now that the simulated pain is gone and you're left only with the win, you feel good. Better than good, actually. You feel invigorated, ready to...do things. Fight a tank brigade, win a thousand simultaneous games of chess, run a marathon around the world.
You go on to stretch one arm above your head, enjoying the sensation. It feels right.
"Not so fast. I have some criticisms."
...ah. Here comes Gager, to ruin the day for you. Again.
Apologies for taking so long. This...technically isn't the first action scene I've ever written, but it's been long enough since I last seriously tried my hand at writing that it might as well be. So the "it's not good enough" devil on my shoulder was particularly loud this time around.
This update is actually loosely based on a scenario I played in Combat Mission: Shock Force 2, a hyper-grognardy simulationist game with a psychotic attention to detail. Granted, it was a Stryker Mobile Gun System and Javelin ATGMs that busted the bunkers, and a squad of US Army soldiers that stormed the trench line, but still.
The closest IRL equivalent to Ouroboros' micro-missiles (that I could find) is the Pike 40mm laser-guided grenade. It never really caught on, but it does exist.
Another update is on the way. Along with some more character interaction and voting options.
You won. By a lot. You completed the scenario. You deserve recognition for that. Yet this "Gager" seems determined to be a thorn in your side.
For a moment, you think of just attacking her right here, right now. But Agent is here, so you think better of it. Better to play this off differently. In this game, the one who loses their cool first is the one who loses.
"Well, Gager," you say, crossing your own arms and meeting her glare. "As terribly disappointed as you must be to see me succeed-"
"That's not fair," she says. She looks upset. Good.
You push past the weak protest. "-the scoreboard disagrees with you. I completed the objective as the scenario outlined."
"The score system didn't account for the participant behaving like a maniac." Gager gestures towards a screen showing the diagnostics of your sim-self. You tore yourself up as badly as the enemy! If the scenario had continued, you'd have been overrun by the trench defenders you didn't eliminate!"
"A classic case of blaming the engineer for shoddy specifications," you say. "If you wanted force preservation, you should have accounted for that in the scores."
"You could have-"
It worked, didn't it? Perhaps you need to brush up on your chess strategies?"
"Only for- Wait, what? Did you just say chess?"
She's confused, thrown. So you press the attack. You jab a finger at her and lay out your genius for her.
"Advancing the queen's knight to C3 allows for development along the flank. If your opponent makes the obvious and amateur mistake of moving to E5, then you have numerous traps and knight tactics to play. And even if they have the modicum of intelligence needed to try D5, you can undermine their grab for the center and leave with many moves that end in disaster. Efficient and glorious!"
You leave that information to sink in.
"Wh- what-" Gager stutters.
Gager looks at Agent. Agent's eyes are screwed shut, and she is pinching the bridge of her nose.
Gager looks at Architect. Architect just shrugs and mouths you're on your own.
It seems neither is willing to back Gager's foolishness and stubbornness, no doubt. Everything is going your way.
Gager looks at you. You just look back.
"Ouroboros, this isn't chess. This- we're talking about actual military tactics here. You tried to behave like a CQC-spec doll, which you're not. Alchemist or Executioner could have pulled that off. Or me. But you-"
"I understand you're having a hard time accepting the reality, dear Gager, but I did pull it off."
"You-hnnngh." She clenches her fists. "You had a perfectly good hill! You had those guided grenades that are good for two klicks! You could have, should have used that hill to barrage them from afar, soften them up, then made the charge!"
"Hm?" You process her words for a moment. "Oh, you mean moving the knight's pawn to G3." That actually might have had some merits...not that you will ever say so to Gager's face.
Gager boggles at you. "Are you real?!"
You shrug at her. "It's not my fault that my virtuoso strategies are beyond a neural cloud as evidently tiny as yours."
"Why, you-!"
"Enough." This time, it's Agent who speaks. Like in the office, you feel yourself stop, freeze up almost. How does she do that?
Gager takes a deep breath, then does and about-face and marches up to Agent, who is still pinching the bridge of her nose. "Ma'am, I think we should have a word. In private."
"I think that would be for the best," Agent says. "You two" - she's addressing Architect and you - "Leave us here. Try not to cause any more damage while I'm gone. I'll call you back after some time."
After a few minutes, you get bored. There's bound to be something far more novel than endless, indeterminately sized and shaped blocks around here. So you set off to explore.
"Hey, Ouro."
You stop and turn to face Architect. She's in the hallway with you, leaning against the wall, playing with her rubber band.
Again, you have to wonder what she's playing at. What kind of person is all smiles with someone who beat them up? You were completely justified in doing so, of course, but it's still suspicious.
"It's Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know, but four syllables is, like, so much to fit into everyday conversation." She makes the band go ping against the palm of her hand. "Most of us just have nice, simple two-syllable names. Except for Executioner I guess, but we just call her Ex." She starts weaving the band into a cat's cradle in her hands.
"'Ouroboros' will do fine."
She shrugs, starts unwinding the cat's cradle. "People will still wanna call you something shorter. Like, surely you want to decide yourself. How about...snake? Snek? Snakey?"
"That is terrible."
"Boa?"
"Even worse. Why would you care, in any case?" You glare at her. "Are you purposefully antagonizing me? Trying to goad me, so you can go running to Agent and damage my prestige? You will fail."
"So you're not going to go postal and punch me again? Phew, that's a relief." She draws the rubber band back on her finger, then releases it, firing it to be lost in some dark corner of the hallway. "I'm just trying to be friendly, you know? "
The pieces click together in your head. "Ah. I understand now."
Architect grins at you. "You do?"
"Of course. You are playing the sycophant. Making some clumsy attempt to ingratiate yourself with me, so you can use me in some way."
Architect looks askance at you. "You have a very suspicious mind, lady."
"Thank you," you say, half-mockingly.
"Uh...you're welcome? But I'd say I was trying to establish camaraderie and all that jazz. Agent is always going on about how important that is, you know."
"I will leave that to those weak or incompetent enough that they need to rely on others." You don't need her. You don't need anyone.
She raises up her hands. "Fine, fiiiiiine. You're determined to be a grump. I get it."
You turn to leave.
"Just one more question. You ever heard of Lycoris?"
Lyco-what? You should know better, but you glance back. "Speak plainly, Architect, or not at all."
"Lycoris. Ly-co-ris. It's a name. Three syllables. Ring a bell?"
You hazard a guess. "Some ringleader I haven't heard about?"
"Hmm. Interesting." She pushes herself off the wall to a standing position. "Well, I'll get out of your hair now. See ya!"
[Perk check - success! Tasting the Air.]
"Stop," you say. You move to grab her arm. "Who is this Lycoris? Why are you asking me about them?"
Architect dances away, out of your reach. "Eh...maybe come see me later, and we can talk about that. If you mellow out and don't fly off the handle over a towel. Bye now!"
And, without warning, she breaks off at a dead sprint down the hallway. She turns around a corner and vanishes, leaving nothing but the sound of footsteps fading off into the distance.
Well, at least she knows you mean business. That's what counts.
You set out to look for something interesting.
You've found a months-old soft drink bottle, and it is perhaps the most fascinating thing you've seen since you were awakened.
Sitting cross-legged outside the factory entrance - a massive set of metal doors that can be opened and closed via hydraulics - you hold the bottle to the light of the sun, which has now climbed much higher into the sky. You turn it around slowly, examining the changes in the refraction and the shine. Bubbles rise up through the bottle, and the light shines and sparkles through them.
Experimentally, you shake the bottle. The liquid fizzes into an ocean of bubbles racing towards the surface, and foam collects on the surface.
Suddenly, Agent is calling you. There aren't any words flashing up in your vision or anything - you just know that it's Agent.
"Ouroboros. Come upstairs to the office immediately."
"Yes, Agent."
The foam has already settled down into its usual liquid.
You throw the bottle against the wall. It smashes with a satisfying crack, and the liquid dribbles down the wall.
You get up and make your way up.
"The original plan," Agent says, "was for you to accompany Gager and Architect to their factory in the mountain peaks. There, you would have received tutelage from Gager, as well as the opportunity to find some affinity with fellow ringleaders. Camaraderie, even."
The windows of the office are still broken to pieces, and cold wind continues to blow into the now-ruined office.
This time, you're not sitting around the table with Agent. This time, she is sitting behind the imposing desk of...Italian Maple, was it? Gager is standing off to her side, arms crossed, glaring at you. And you are being made to stand.
"However…" Agent pauses, glances aside at Gager.
Gager speaks up. "I'm willing to work with you if you're willing to show some discipline." Her voice is hard, unflinching. "Come up to the mountain base, and I'll teach you what I know. But I won't be easy on you, like that tutorial simulation was. I will give you the absolute toughest time I can."
That's obvious bait. The question is, do you rise to the challenge to show her up? Or do you dismiss her as obviously unworthy of your attention? Eh, you'll figure it out in a moment.
Agent nods at Gager, then turns back to you. "You will be assigned a force equivalent to a platoon size. You will seek out one of your fellow ringleaders. You will assist them in their duties, learn from them, and see for yourself how we run our operations. And you will be nothing but helpful. Do you understand?"
Choose one vote.
[ ] "Rest assured, Agent...I shall lend all my expertise to your cause. It should be more than enough to crush any opposition." No mechanical benefits, but Agent's opinion of you will improve somewhat. This may be important later.
[ ] "I will have to pass on whatever "camaraderie" you might be trying to establish here. Inferior models that are not under my direct command would only slow me down. If I were to be given a greater amount of units to control, I'll assure you that I'll outperform them all!" Sometimes, more is more. This will make you much more likely to succeed next time you run into the enemy. Agent will be somewhat (further) annoyed, and will be more reticent next time you ask for resources.
[ ] "Are our adversaries truly as depicted in that simulation? I would hate to waste my precious time finally free on small fry." Small long term bonus to actions taken against one of Sangvis Ferri's enemies, to be determined by vote next update.
[ ] "Tell me more about these other ringleaders. Surely I rank above them?" Detailed info about what mechanical benefits can be gained from spending time with each ringleader. Will come into play in the next vote.
[X] "You mentioned there are others? Surely I rank above them?" (info about other Ringleaders)
"That remains to be seen," Agent says coolly. "We will see how you perform in your first few deployments, and I will make a judgement on what position you deserve to occupy."
Well, if Agent can't see you for the game-changing asset you are, that is a problem on her part. And yours. Perhaps Agent would like you to wait around and slowly climb the ranks when opportunity presents itself...but who knows how long that might take?
You need to look for opportunities. Some spectacular victory that will force Agent - and especially this "Mastermind" behind her - to sit up and take notice of your abilities. To do that, the first step is gathering information.
"Well, tell me about these ringleaders! Who am I going to be working with?"
"You have dossiers available in your database," Agent says. "They explain where each is and what their operational objectives are. You can refer to those."
"Detailed information! I want to know everything important! What are they like on an interpersonal level? What do they do? If you expect me to learn from them, what specifically do I stand to gain from each one?"
"You know," Gager says, "That might be the first sensible thing I've heard you say."
"I'm in a magnanimous mood" you say, "So I will attribute that comment to a momentary lapse of judgement on your part and not hold it against you in the future."
Gager rolls her eyes. "How very good of you. All right, I can give you a run down on each of them."
Note: Because of the vote outcome last update, you get knowledge on what skills can be learned from each SF ringleader.
"Scarecrow. She does recon and data analysis. Good at it, too - she spends half her time inside Griffin territory. Might be a good choice for you, actually. She won't put up with your nonsense, and she'll give as much as she gets from you."
[ ] SCARECROW, who is conducting recon and patrol in Griffin territory in the MOUNTAINS to the north.
Recon
Gaining knowledge of geography, terrain, roads and routes, enemy assets, and enemy activity. Can involve stealthy and passive scouting, and/or aggressive probing attacks to force the enemy to show their hand. Stealth is associated with the Recon skill.
Electronic warfare
E-war involves the manipulation of computers and the networks they exist within for a tactical advantage. The battlefields of the 2060s are firmly digital, so E-war has many applications - listening in on or disrupting enemy comms, hacking of enemy computer systems, and possibly even turning systems to your advantage.
"My database mentions a 'Hunter' and an 'Executioner,' you say. "What about them?"
Agent gives an exasperated sigh. "Those two are currently mouldering away in a pair of ditches somewhere in Area S09. By their own request, they still have another…"
She pauses.
"...sixty seven hours for a retrieval mission before we activate some earlier backup copies of their neural clouds. We have yet to find the time and resources to locate and reactivate them. The loss of a ringleader ironically leaves us short on the hands needed to retrieve that ringleader, potentially leading to…" She shakes her head. "We'll just have to see."
[ ] EXECUTIONER
[ ] HUNTER
You also see that "Judge" is marked as "on permanent guard duty to the Mastermind." No use asking about her, then.
[ ] JUDGE
"Dreamer...and Destroyer? Isn't that two ringleaders?"
Gager hesitates.
The corner of Agent's mouth turns down slightly, and she turns to look out the destroyed windows. "They have a...peculiar relationship," she says. "It is...not practical to separate them."
"Is something the matter with them?" you ask.
Agent steadfastly stares out the broken remains of the window. Gager just crosses her arms and looks to the side.
It seems you're not getting an answer.
[ ] DREAMER & DESTROYER, who are defending a Sangvis facility in the FRONT LINES to the south.
Defensive Tactics
Retaining decisive terrain, denying vital areas to the enemy, and attriting away their forces. Preparation in advance, disruption of enemy forces, operations in depth, and use of mobile reserves all contribute to the defense.
Artillery Tactics
Using long-range, (typically) indirect fire support as a force multiplier. Disruption of enemy forces, denial of potential bases of fire, support of friendly operations, or just bombing them to smithereens from afar.
"And what of this 'Intruder?'"
Now it's Gager's turn to look annoyed. "She gets the job done. Earned her way into a mid ranking position for it, often commands other ringleaders in the field. But-" she sighs - "Such a drama queen. In several ways.
"Constantly making references to some of the human media she obsessively consumes, then acting smug when the rest of us don't know what she's talking about. Constantly trying to rope you into watching old human films with her instead of being productive. And then there's the way she's constantly playing everyone around her...like...I don't know how to phrase it?"
Agent speaks. "Like she's trying to make everyone else into an actor in her play?"
Gager throws up her hands. "Yes! That's exactly it! Word of advice, Ouroboros - if you run into her, try not to let her do the same to you."
[ ] INTRUDER, who is raiding a military base for material near a FOREST to the southeast.
E-war
The manipulation of computers and the networks they exist within for a tactical advantage. The battlefields of the 2060s are firmly digital, so E-war has many applications - listening in on or disrupting enemy comms, hacking of enemy computer systems, and possibly even turning systems to your advantage.
Deception
Zigging when the enemy expects you to zag. Appear weak where you are strong and strong where you are weak. Involves various methods of distorting, concealing, or falsifying your intentions to mislead an opponent. May apply on an interpersonal level as well as the battlefield…
"What about Architect?"
Gager's eyes narrow. "What about her? She's under my protection."
"She was attempting to...be friendly with me, as she put it," you say. And there's almost certainly an ulterior motive there, though you have yet to figure out what it is. "If camaraderie is what we are going for, she might be a good place to start."
Gager frowns a little. "Well, I suppose she might be able to do something with your weapons if you asked. She likes explosive-based weapons."
She jabs a finger at you.
"But I won't tolerate any funny business from you! I'll be watching you like a hawk!"
"Duly noted," you say dryly.
[ ] ARCHITECT, who is working on the Jupiter heavy artillery project in the MOUNTAINTOP BASE.
Explosives/IED construction and Weapon Customization
Architect can teach you to jury-rig Improvised Explosive Devices from stuff lying around - whether that happens to be your micro-missiles, grenades, energy weapon battery backs, or just some gunpowder and tin cans.
She can also provide some modifications and side-grades to your weapons, as well as new micro-missile types.
Combat Engineering
Construction and demolition actions to facilitate movement of friendly forces and inhibit that of the enemy. Can involve construction of makeshift bridges, breaching of walls with explosives, building trenches and ditches, and overcoming.
"What of this 'Alchemist?' Some kind of spec ops doll?"
"Alchemist…" Gager murmurs. "An effective combatant. Good at what she does. Infiltration, disruption, destruction of high value targets." You hear a note of approval in her voice. "Though she can be…I'm not sure how to phrase it?"
"Self absorbed?" Agent ventures. "Possessed of morbid curiosity?"
"That works." Gager shrugs. "Not sure what you'd be getting with her, honestly."
[ ] ALCHEMIST, who is hunting a high value target in the CITY RUINS to the west.
CQC
Combat at metaphorical and literal knife-fighting ranges. This skill comes into play when you are personally engaging at close range with your main body or dummy links. This skill also applies to fighting with infantry in room-clearing operations and some urban warfare situations. Involves surprise, speed, and controlled violence.
Recon
Gaining knowledge of geography, terrain, roads and routes, enemy assets, and enemy activity. Can involve stealthy and passive scouting, and/or aggressive probing attacks to force the enemy to show their hand. Stealth is associated with the Recon skill.
"And of course, the original plan still stands." Gager glares at you. "Like I said, I'm willing to follow the plan and instruct you, if you are willing to shape up. Are you up to the challenge, little miss perfect?"
[ ] GAGER, who is remotely coordinating Sangvis Ferri strategic objectives with Agent, in the MOUNTAINTOP BASE.
Offensive Tactics
Seizing a position from the enemy...and doing so with minimal losses. Maneuver, surprise, concentration of force, and setting of the tempo are all crucial to the offense.
CQC
Combat at knife-fighting ranges. This skill comes into play when you are personally engaging at close range with your main body or dummy links. This skill also applies to fighting with infantry in room-clearing operations and some urban warfare situations. Involves surprise, speed, and controlled violence.
Your current skills are:
Artillery Tactics - Level 1.
CQC - Level 1.
Notes:
You can gain further ability and expertise by gaining multiple levels in a skill.
Levelling skills is likely to be a slower process here than in most quests. Hence, Level 1 is already a good degree of ability that will be very useful unless Ouroboros is against someone better than her at that skill, or unless circumstances conspire to be unfavourable, or unless Ouroboros does something well and truly stupid. The levels after that denote ever increasing degrees of proficiency in that area, further increasing benefits and mitigating problems.
Bear in mind that skills may also synergize with each other in certain situations. For example, an Ouroboros who recovers a Griffin handheld radio but doesn't have any relevant skills will just throw it away. An Ouroboros with some skill in E-warfare might be able to tinker with it and listen in on enemy comms. An Ouroboros with some skill in both E-war and Deception might have the presence of mind to tap into enemy comms and copy the voices of the dolls she killed, luring them into a trap. Alternatively, if you want to do door-kicking, Rainbow Six Siege stuff, a combination of CQC, Offensive Tactics, and Combat Engineering may, depending on the situation, be more effective than a simple Level 3 proficiency in any of those skills alone.
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0-7: It's Dangerous to Go Alone, Take These T-dolls
[X] INTRUDER, who is raiding a military base for material near a FOREST to the south.
"Intruder," you say. "If this ringleader 'gets the job done,' then I should see how she operates. That way, I can improve on her."
Gager rolls her eyes. "If you really want to improve, I suggest getting over that superiority complex of yours."
"But I am superior," you point out reasonably.
Gager sighs. "Look...it's dangerous to go alone. Out there you're liable to run into all sorts of trouble. ELIDs. Bandits and vadjaegers. Those weird white tripod things. And Griffin will never miss an opportunity to ruin your day. I'll need to take you down to the T-doll warehouse and-"
And then Gager stops. And she clenches her fists, and turns to Agent.
"It's them again."
What? Who?
"404 just sabotaged one of our outposts. That usually precludes a large attack by Griffin."
"Go," says Agent. "Get in touch with whatever forces are nearby. Coordinate the response."
Gager nods sharply, then dashes past you out of the room. She doesn't even glance at you.
You look back at Agent. She's raised a fist to her chin, presumably pondering...something.
You don't like being left out of the loop like this.
"Excuse me, Agent." You spread your arms to get her attention. "Are you going to explain what this "404" is?"
Agent opens her fist and places her hand on the table. She frowns at you slightly. "Squad 404 is a persistent thorn in our side. A special team of four tactical dolls, with unusual capacity in electronic warfare. They rob us, they sabotage us, they undercut us. In tandem with other Griffin echelons, they make themselves...a great irritation. Our databases contain so many records of their "accomplishments" that is has become tiresome."
...well, now. That is interesting. Four dolls, causing so much grief for Sangvis Ferri?
"So." You can't contain your smile, so you raise a finger to your chin to accentuate it. "In other words…I'll be able to gain greater privileges if I kill them all, right?"
"Slaying the elite team that has caused us so much grief? I suppose it would fulfil one criteria for...'increased privileges.' But now is not the time to indulge in idle fantasy." Agent gets up. "It's time to equip you properly. Since Gager is indisposed, I'll take you."
"These are the soldiers you were promised" says Agent. "I have personally assured the quality of the production lines, so you have no need to worry about their performance." Her voice is as self-assured as ever.
The warehouse - like most of Sangvis Ferri's architecture - is a stark, industrial affair. Thin metal struts reach up from a smooth grey concrete floor to a bare metal roof that towers above you like a cathedral. This place is the essence of function - made to store things, and to provide protection from the elements. Little else needed or required.
What is interesting is what's inside the warehouse.
T-dolls. Hundreds of them, standing alongside each other in vertical resting positions, their bowed heads indicating their shutdown status.
They come in batches of various types, but there is a clear unifying visual theme. Pale skin. Dark metal boots and shin-guards. Energy weapons with pink highlights. Some kind of headgear with stabbing neon colours.
Agent gestures gracefully towards a row of T-dolls. Ten or so, of all types. It seems to stir them, to activate them.
As one, they raise their heads to stare straight ahead.
As one, they take a step straight ahead.
As one, a dozen metal boots clank on the concrete floor, echoing powerfully through the warehouse.
And then, suddenly, they are yours. You had halfway expected words to flash across your vision like on a screen, but that doesn't happen. Instead, you feel their presence through the OGAS protocol. You simply know that they are all fresh off the assembly line, that all their subsystems are operating nominally, that they are entirely intact on a physical level.
You point at one of the dolls - a "Ripper" armed with a pair of close-range weapons. It has wavy, dark purple hair and a violet visor.
"Pawn. Come here." You don't need to say the command out loud - it responds to your thoughts, not your words. You say it anyway, because it feels good.
The Ripper takes several strides towards you and stops in front of you.
"Stand on one leg."
The Ripper lifts up one leg and balances, steady as a rock.
"Jump up and down."
The Ripper hops up and down on one leg. Seeing the stoic-faced T-doll bouncing like a pogo stick is pretty funny.
"Stop."
The Ripper stops and takes a neutral stance, both feet now firmly planted on the ground. You hadn't explicitly told it to, but it did so anyway. It really does respond to your thoughts intuitively. Useful.
"Run towards that wall over there."
The Ripper does an about face and begins a dead sprint towards the wall you pointed out, some thirty meters away. Its movements are mechanical, precise. No motion is wasted.
An idea comes to you. You reach out a hand towards one of the other dolls, and it gives you its weapon.
"Jump off that wall!" you call out.
The Ripper, upon reaching the wall, leaps up. It notches the side of one boot into a seam in the brickwork, steadies itself momentarily with one hand (still clutching a weapon), and pushes off, soaring through the air.
You throw the energy weapon high, high into the air. It spins, tumbling end over end.
"Shoot this!"
Still flying through the air, the Ripper takes aim with one of its laser SMGs and fires. The weapon you threw is shredded in mid-air. Tiny fragments of metal, plastic, and crystal rain around.
The Ripper breaks its fall with a roll and pauses, resting on one knee. Waiting for the next command.
"Come back here."
The Ripper gets up and lightly jogs the thirty meters back to you. Not as fast as before? Ah, it seems it defaults to less strenuous forms of activity so as not to wear its parts out too fast. It continues jogging until it reaches you, then stands motionless.
"Kill yourself."
In one smooth motion, the Ripper points one of its weapons at the temple of its own head and pulls the trigger. The lasers sear through its skull, burning whatever circuitry and electronics lie within to a crisp.
The Ripper's knees fold from under it, and it crumples to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Smoke emanates from the holes in its head. You smell the acrid stench of burning plastics and metal.
"Acceptable."
It really is. It seems that Sangvis Ferri T-dolls are agile, accurate, and will follow your commands to the letter. More than to the letter, actually - it seems they are keyed into your neural cloud to the point they will do what you mean rather than what you say. Best of all, they do not object in the slightest to dying if you-
"It seems you dislike the Rippers." Agent's imperious voice resonates through the cavernous space of the warehouse.
What?
"So I will remove them from your list of available troops."
Wait-
And suddenly, they're gone. Several of the dolls in front of you - Rippers, each one - steps backwards into their storage positions and shut down.
"Wait," you say. "You shouldn't do that."
"Oh? And why might that be?"
Something blisteringly hot and restless has settled inside your gut. It sits there, coiled up like a steel spring.
"You- you-" You seek the words to make her see sense. "I'd make good use of them! You're denying yourself a valuable asset here?"
"Make use of them how?"
The coil is squirming, writhing within you.
"Well, they're for close quarters fighting, so I'd use them for that obviously!"
"Any imbecile could have figured that much out. Try harder." Agent's expression is merciless.
The tension within the coil begs to be let free, to lash out, to hurt that which dares to belittle you.
"Like- Like a pawn advance. All covering each other and-"
"Without any references to chess."
You force the coil down, down, down.
And you dredge up the words to make Agent see sense.
[Skill check - CQC: Success]
"Krgh. In- in a narrow hallway. Four of them!" You hold up four fingers. "One advancing ahead of the others, two on the flanks checking the doorways on the sides, one bringing up the rear. Covers all possible sectors of fire and-"
Agent raises a hand, stopping you.
"Earlier, you asked about increased privileges. Prove to me you know what you are doing as a soldier. Prove to me you know how to use your resources in the field, that you can accomplish your objectives, and that you can do so without unnecessary waste. Then you will get your increased privileges. But not until after.
"I will reinstate your access to the Rippers. But remember, this is not one of your simulations. Correct your behaviour in the future, Ouroboros."
You fire back. "Well, that's all well and good. If you actually work that way, I'll have Gager's position within a month."
[Skill check - CQC: Fail]
[Relationship check - Agent: Fail]
Suddenly, your arm is gripped in Agent's grasp. She was so fast and fluid, you barely even saw her move.
You pull, try to yank your arm away, but fail. Somehow you feel like your strength has deserted you. Her iron grip is inescapable.
Suddenly, the coil in your belly is no longer hot and angry and writhing. Suddenly it's cold, dull, lifeless. It sits there, leaden, weighing you down.
You've made a mistake.
"When I say I work a certain way," Agent says softly, "That. Is the way. I work."
You look into her piercing eyes, staring down at you.
You draw out the words she wants to hear-
"I understand, Agent."
-and force them out through clenched teeth.
She releases your arm.
"Good. I have decided the size of the force you are to be assigned. Choose carefully."
AREA OF OPERATIONS
It will be evening by the time you arrive at the area.
Intruder has reported that the military outpost has garrisoned itself in an abandoned village right outside the edge of a thick forest.
Enemy patrols operate in the forests, but seem somewhat lax - it seems they are not expecting to be attacked.
You could approach from within the forest, or over the open terrain. Either way, it is recommended you bring units suited for the task.
ENEMY FORCES
The outpost headquarters is the barricaded and fortified remnants of an old town hall. The Manticores - the prize of the operation, which you are to assist in capturing - guard this building.
Most of the forces are automated infantry - a mix of outdated T-dolls, including some WW3 era Sangvis Ferri models. The patrol groups are composed mostly of T-dolls, with the occasional human platoon leader, and a skeleton crew of humans operating them remotely from inside the outpost.
The exact size of the forces is unknown, but yours and Intruder's forces combined should be a roughly even match.
Agent has assigned you 36 COMMAND POINTS to spend.
Note that while some units have costs represented in decimals, you must spend whole points. This is a compromise to prevent numbers from blowing up too much when Ouroboros commands larger forces. On request, I can increase the cost values for all units to get rid of those decimals.
Please vote by plan.
[] Example plan name
-2x Vespid (cost 2)
-2x Striker (cost 4)
-120x Dinergate (cost 30)
(Note: While I cannot physically stop you from voting for an all-dinergate platoon, you can expect consequences for taking one into battle. )
Scouts
Dinergate - 0.25
Role: expendable ground-based reconnaissance
Small, cheap quadrupedal robot with a small, cheap weapon. Some have called them "adorable." Others say they are "expendable."
Scout UAV - 4
Role: aerial reconnaissance
Unmanned aerial vehicle packed with sensors and optics. Has a small weapon for self-defense.
Tarantula - ACCESS DENIED
Infantry
Prowler - 0.5
Role: base defense (not recommended for expeditions outside of paved areas)
Wheeled weapon. Cheap for its firepower, but struggles on terrain rougher than a paved road.
Vespid - 1
Role: general infantry
Description: General purpose weapon. Can function in almost any situation.
Striker - 2
Role: fire support, suppression
Description: Extremely powerful weapon that can fire for sustained durations.. Recommended for use in conjunction with other units to function as carriers for ammunition and heat sinks.
Jaeger - 2
Role: fire support, anti-material, elimination of high value targets
Description: Powerful, extremely long range anti-material weapon. High end optics. Pinpoint accuracy. Standard-issue thermoptic camouflage coat.
Ripper - 1
Role: CQC, close range firepower
Description: Close range weapons can fire on the move, but lack a Vespid's range.
Guard - 1
Role: CQC, building assaults, force multiplier
Description: Shield for protection. Subdermal armour plating and redundant internal systems provide durability.
Brute - 0.5
Role: CQC, building assaults, night raids
Description: Standard issue knives, with spares for throwing. Especially strong.
Dragoon - 4
Role: cavalry
Description: The walker can run at Ostrich speeds on flat roads, and maintain a good pace on rough terrain. The rider can dismount and fight with a sidearm if necessary. The walker's firepower is equivalent to that of a Striker's.
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