- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
[X] Plan: Making Waves
It's Turbin' Time (Library of Ruina Modded/Arknights)
- Thread starter thenew
- Start date
- Crossover
Vote closed
A question
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
Alright, so- questions for my audience time. The question is:
- What is your favorite character in Turbin' Time? Can simply be a character from AK or PM you think I've written well.
- What was your favorite chapter, and why did you enjoy it above the others?
- What is a gripe with the story you have so far?
- Location
- United States
I have to say, Arabella is consistently super entertaining, and she's got several different character dynamics I quite enjoy. The Abyssal Hunters, Quintus, her abomination of a kid - it's all great stuff.
Damn, that's a toughie. I'd have to reread the quest to make a proper decision, since it's been going on for a while. But I'd have to say the culmination of the Kazimeriez clusterfuck was very gripping - you had all these balls in the air, and the fight scene was really tense. It also felt like the crossover elements were at their practical and thematic peak in those moments, with Sieghardt confronting the Light properly.
I thought the starting "thing" with Capone Distorting was a super cool mechanic, and it's a shame it only came up once. Having this prolonged battle with a horrible abomination that used to be a person while simultaneously trying to figure out their psychological basket-case that gives them power before they escalate too much and can't be stopped - it was absolutely kino, and I hope we see it at least one more time before the quest ends.
TheForbiddenZone
DOCTOR MOBIUS
- Location
- The Big Empty
Abram, he just like me fr
It's hard to pick, but I'd say the final battle with Adam, specifically the chapter where Sieg busts out the Current for the first time
stock man hasn't appeared yet
thelordofmango
may be stupid
- Location
- under a rock
Our lad Seighart, I guess. He is the easiest for me to empathize with given the quest is from his perspective.
The Disco chapter, for obvious reasons. I still think you should turn this into an officially Disco™ Quest.
It seems to me that a lot of potentially interesting interactions between characters got glossed over for the sake of pacing. I would be interested in seeing more of those.
My favorite so far is Ayam Adom. That mesh of bloodfiend and seaborn is utterly fascinating as a character and I can't wait to see how he grows and interacts with the rest of the Turbulence Office and Rhode Island.
The painted world, I just love how much you managed to show how Malkuth Reverberation could be a possibility, outside of being a funny gag. The interaction with Saga is endearing and how their mindset is shown is something I can't help but love.
I guess it would mostly be if the Turbulence Office are able to cut ties completely with the city or how it will be solved. Nothing to mind seems that it will bring a satysfying outcome. It's far down the line but still something that is always in my mind when reading the story.
Redsoff
[DETACHMENT]
- Location
- By [your] side
I suppose Sieghart? Someone with a good head on his shoulders combined with experience with more insanity that is usual for the City results in a voice of reason whose utterly unflappable. Someone toughened by life in a Dystopia yet has held on to an inherent human kindness. Very good.
Alternatively Abel, an old, old man trying to do something new. Watching him interact with Seig and both Turbulence Office and Lob Corp's different brands of craziness is a delight.
the night sky. The one where Capone undistorted.
It's... there's something about hitting rock bottom, losing yourself, losing parts of yourself that made you "you" and thinking "this is what I am, this is all I can be, there is nothing else."
And being showed that it is wrong. That there is another way, a better way, a way that is yours in a nature that can never be taken from you but does not have to be walked alone.
There's so much cool stuff and we can't fit all of it in here.
Stuff like alternative choices, possible better/worse outcomes, pondering the ramifications of more radical futures like if we picked EGO gear and Enkephalin and revolutionized the energy market.
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I liked the direction you took Capone. I've always enjoyed fanworks taking a minor villain from a work and fleshing them out, and Capone feels like an additional straight man to the majority of the rest of the Office's bullshit, like Sieghart.
3.25, where Sieg curb-stomped Adam. Culminated the arc strongly alongside generally being cool, and I do love the "powerful being used against its will breaking free and shitting on its captor" trope.
I agree with @thelordofmango on interesting character interactions being glossed over, though I understand the need for it.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Gotta be Sieghart
Either Capote's Undistortion or The Fight with Abrahm
I've mostly enjoyed the story so I don't have a lot of gripes that I can think of.
DuoRogue
Eternal Space Raptor
- Pronouns
- It/Its
im not commenting because i cant pick favorites in this. its too good
so i guess ill throw out a "I really liked the post after the disco elysium post that explained what all the skills were like" and a "Im sad we didnt pick the spooky option when determining the direction of act 4"
so i guess ill throw out a "I really liked the post after the disco elysium post that explained what all the skills were like" and a "Im sad we didnt pick the spooky option when determining the direction of act 4"
Capone, I love the journey to find a reason to live and I would be delighted to see him find his answer and fully manifest his EGO.
the night sky, I can't quite put It into words but that's the chapter that left a lasting impact for me.
I would like to see more character interactions, but that's just me liking to see how characters deal with each other a bit too much.
My favorite character so far is definitely Sieg, with Sinclair being a close second.
My favorite chappy was the End of Ursus' interlude.
A gripe I have is that the fight scenes can drag on a bit sometimes with the viewpoint characters strategizing and philosophizing, mostly Sieg when he accelerates his perceptions.
My favorite chappy was the End of Ursus' interlude.
A gripe I have is that the fight scenes can drag on a bit sometimes with the viewpoint characters strategizing and philosophizing, mostly Sieg when he accelerates his perceptions.
kaillll
Judgment Upon You
Oh BOY.
HMMMMMMMMMMMM maybe Ayam for me but thats because I REALLY like Nothing there feeling of his and how you shifted the "Just a mini boss" to a fun charater, THEN there is Capone who was just a small side shit but the Lungmen story and what happens after just makes him so likable for me, THEN there is Linette. OH BOY SHE IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUN FOR ME AHHHHHHHHHH.
anyway. yeah, Ayam, they are cute and I love them.
the story arc...I would say that the second arc is my fav but I would be lying, the Adam arc, with all the little parts moving together into this "FINAL BATTLE" like fight is sooooooo cool.
hmm, a gripe...not really? I want to see more side stuff involving how charathers have changed now that The City's stuff changed Terra, for better or for worse
HMMMMMMMMMMMM maybe Ayam for me but thats because I REALLY like Nothing there feeling of his and how you shifted the "Just a mini boss" to a fun charater, THEN there is Capone who was just a small side shit but the Lungmen story and what happens after just makes him so likable for me, THEN there is Linette. OH BOY SHE IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUN FOR ME AHHHHHHHHHH.
anyway. yeah, Ayam, they are cute and I love them.
the story arc...I would say that the second arc is my fav but I would be lying, the Adam arc, with all the little parts moving together into this "FINAL BATTLE" like fight is sooooooo cool.
hmm, a gripe...not really? I want to see more side stuff involving how charathers have changed now that The City's stuff changed Terra, for better or for worse
- Location
- Manila, Philippines
My favorite character would be Heavy, it was hilarious seeing him in the sidestory Mansfield break, it would be nice to see him in action again.
Interlude: The Life of a Fixer II
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
It is an undescribable smell.
An impossible taste in your tongue.
An unidentifable blight upon your sight.
Here you are, in the Backstreets of District 24, under X. Corp's questionable supervision, sitting atop a building you can't even call decayed.
"You- you're sure we have to stay here for much longer, boss?" hisses Emil, the freshly bought gas mask covering his eyes and muffling his voice. "I hate this place."
You nod. Your stakeout will unfortunately have to continue for a bit longer. This place is also starting to get grating.
The four of you- Nicole, Max, Emil and you- have, as far as you remember, been hired to take down a major Middle operation in here.
Your contractor is very obviously just a Ring front, but you really can't bring yourself to care. He pays well- the sort of "take a number and double it" well- in the very least.
At the moment, while Emil curses uncharacteristically often to distract from the doise, Nicole, completely covered with bandages, is just staring at nothing in particular. She's not smoking anything- it's difficult to even light a cigarette. Max- hockey mask, armor plates covering every inch of skin- is completely silent, looking extremely disturbed by what his large eyes are seeing.
Well, not seeing. Or kind of seeing.
You check your wristwatch.
Twenty-three minutes to the Night in the Backstreets. Almost time.
The doise is getting more and more grating as you four await. You breath and feel the voice whispering jn your ears, warm and soothing as always. For a second, you forget the doise.
You ask her an innocent question, to distract yourself. You ask her if she's ever been here before.
She pauses.
"I come often, to the Nest. To the factories. They're very crowded and yet so very lonely." she whispers. "Those Backstreets are neither. You are never alone, here- even if you wish you were. People don't hear me much, here. Some of them would rather not hear anything at all."
You sympathize, a bit. You tune her out again and close our eyes.
The truth is, you dislike those Backstreets- they're genuinely one of most unpleasant places you've ever had the misfortune to visit, and that is an accomplishment, considering you've been to the Ruins. You avoid this place as much as you can, but with this much money in the line you can't really refuse.
Now, streets are empty. The Sweepers steer clear of District X's more dreg-choked streets, and in nights like those they just don't come out at all. As far as you know, it's because they have senses humans normally don't- so there's just more ways to be exposed.
Every District has its own culture and circumstances, and that extends to the Backstreets. From the magical power of "luck" that rules District J rigged gambling halls, to the smoke-choked air of the old L. Corp- you suppose it will be older L. Corp soon- and Cross-Section's pollution.
Cross-Section is the Wing known as X. Corp. Their name is a bit unusual- you've been told that the Head almost did not allow it- but, well, their logo is an X. A box slashed in two angles, forming one.
Their Singularity, as far as you know, allows them create objects with impossible properties. Unrealistically tough and light metals and plastic, food more nutritious then should be possible. They offer the other Wings construction material for the most part, though there are manufacturing plants for the augmenting most complex objects with their technology. A simple, but powerful Singularity, with one glaring downside- waste.
It's almost an open secret how it really works. Nobody knows how, but they're certain- things aren't being augmented at all. There's some sort of transfer involved, those properties are coming from somewhere. X. Corp doesn't bother correcting anyone. Why would they need to, when almost everyone relies on them for the most basic of infrastructure?
That theory explains the dregs, at least.
The Backstreets of District 24 are choked with this… substance. Some streets have more than others. You don't like thinking about it, but you're surrounded by this stuff so you can't help but do so.
To your vision and your senses, objects have properties. They might be decided arbitrarily, but everything has. Intrinsic properties. This is "heavy." This is "light." This is "red," or "blue."
But now, what if there weren't any?
This is what you "see" around you. The waste X. Corp dumps on their own Backstreets- this gunk with no properties left but volume.
The citizens around here call it the dregs. It's a sort of… substance. It doesn't really have anything resembling a texture or an appearance. Your eyes glaze off it painfully, because there isn't really anything you can…
You scratch at your hair. You're not thinking very clearly. The doise's getting to you.
The noise the thing makes at the slightest stimuli- when it is touched by the wind, by your boots, by the rain, by mere vibrations- is the "doise." The noise that isn't a noise. It's everywhere. Going in here is like getting a fresh serving of tinnitus.
As far as you know, the people born here get used to it, to having this gunk choking the streets, impossible not-matter that doesn't smell and yet does. It's not very surprising. A human body can get used to anything. If you were born here, it would probably be much easier to not choke on the not-taste that coats the air every time you open your mouth.
Nicole is sitting in a fetal position.
"Is it going… to take much longer." she says, taking hurried breaths and holding back the urge to vomit with each one. It's the rain, you suppose.
It's not raining, and yet it is. "Dreg rain," or "drain."
It's called that because it drains you, you think with a silent, grim chuckle. The doise just gets unbearable as it touches everything on its way down. It's not even possible to identify the raindrops by sight, and touching them with your skin… is not recommended.
All the water in this place is like that- infected, some sources more than others. The tapwater's almost safe. Were it not for the spurts of doise every time you tried to wash your hands, it would be fine. Because of that, bottled water imported from other Districts is popular enough to be District 24's main import.
The water… even now, you don't feel it in your clothes. It doesn't soak anything. All you feel are the vibrations. It can only be perceived by what it produces peripherally- the pitter-patter of the not-quite-rain echoing in the dark.
You suppose that this- this feeling you are all soaked in, it's no more then a response. No more then a reaction. Some people have called X. Corp's Singularity unnatural, but if something is possible, if something is real, is it not natural? Nature does not abhor a vaccuum- most of space is empty space, after all. It's just that you aren't used to this. There is nothing really wrong, here. It's just a set of circumstances you are not used to.
Seven minutes to the Night in the Backstreets.
"Bad memories?" you ask her.
"It wasn't ever quite as bad as…" she pauses, scratching at the bandages. "This."
Yes. It wasn't.
"We'll go home soon, don't worry."
"I know." a sigh. "Doesn't make it much better."
She stands up, taking her pistol out of the holster, and goes off to another side of the building, to fiddle with it before you go off.
Four minutes.
Max is uncomfortable with the mask. He didn't manage to find one his size. Not one rated for the drain, at least. Making a custom one would take time he didn't really want to waste.
He's been here before- he knows what it's like.
"How are you doing, Duo?"
He blinks, and almost flexes- before stopping himself. It would tear up the armor. He looks immensely miserable. You sigh.
"Doing FINE. Not really happy about not being able to empower my MUSCLES-" another suppressed flex. The frown behind the mask gets deeper. "But we all gotta do the jobs we gotta do, RIGHT! ONCE WE GET HOME, IT'S GONNA BE THE DAY FOR THE ABS. DON'T FORGET THAT, BOSS!"
You laugh, and pat him in the back.
One minute.
"Emil?"
"Yeah, it's time." he does not even look eager. There is violence incoming, and he does not look eager.
All four of you turn towards a building. You can't even identify its shape- that's just how submerged in dreg it is. The most you can say is that the way your eyes slide off it, the way it seems to move without moving, suggests a sort of foam.
You take out the briefcase you bought for the mission. The streets you'll have to break through are the worst, most dreg-choked ones in the whole District. It used to be part of the Nest, the location of a manufacturing plant. Nobody really remembers what was made in it, just that something went wrong, and whatever was in the container they used to store all the dreg broke.
Since now, rumors say, X. Corp's factories just have pipelines leading straight to the Backstreets. No on-site storage anywhere.
And this place… well, it wasn't forgotten.
It really is the perfect place for an Enkephalin smuggling operation. The most valuable contraband imaginable in this day and age. It's all in that building you don't really see.
But there's one thing you see.
No one would look for an operation here, because no one is remotely willing to wade through the dreg waist-deep for that with any amount of regularity.
But your eyes can see a tiny, flickering light, through the surface of the dreg- the Middle troopers, in some sort of vehicle. It flashes once, then twice. Some sort of message.
It disappears into the dreg, but you know it entered the building. The door is open- the barriers are down. You have less then five minutes.
"Alright."
It's the Night in the Backstreets. All around the City, the Sweepers should be coming out of their nest in droves, swarms of monsters arriving to clean up the trash. People barricade their doors and wait the Night out.
The shining device inside the briefcase glows.
W-Corp's logo is proudly emblazoned within its length. You unsheathe your sword. As far as everyone but you and your employer are concerned, none of this happened.
The device shines, and you blink. There is an horrendous ripping sound- not as painful as the doise, though- and a tear in space forms.
You leap through it.
You are no longer awaiting atop a building.
A number of Middle soldiers- the Little Brothers and Little Sisters packing the crates, a dozen Big Brothers sitting around a table playing some sort of board game, one of them holding a large wad of Ahn in her large hands. A pale Big Sister is overseeing the entire operation.
Fists are raised.
After the stakeout, this feels almost too easy. The brawl is comforting after the sensory torture.
The Little Brothers and Sisters are shooed away and told to get into the vehicles. They know they won't be of any use- you're too strong to be brought down by the weight of bodies. Nicole belches out a blast of smoke and vanishes- she will take care of them.
The Big Brothers know they're no match for you, but they put up an admirable fight. They can't surpass you in any category, so they try to give opportunities to the Big Sister, who's closer to your level.
She's tough. The silent type, not the one to monologue about vengeance mid-fight. The others call her Jeanne.
Agile. Fighting style relying largely on kicking, clever enough to install an air-vent implant in her feet- even if you try and parry a blow, the flow of hot air disrupts your defense just enough for her to land another, and her limbs have tattoos you recognize- disruptive electric fields. It's meant to impart that little bit of initial momentum- catch an enemy off-guard, disrupt them, land a good blow and leave them disoriented from the electric pulse, use their disorientation to land another hit, keep riding that until you win. Simple but effective.
But you're just too fast. She's good, but not good enough. A dagger materializes in your hand, and a voice- that bright voice- whispers in your ears. A breach in her defenses.
You lodge the light-dagger in her leg, and she grits her teeth.
Emil and Max are handling the Big Brothers well enough. You spin and roundhouse kick her in the chest- throwing her back. Then, you spin in midair, change your angle, and drive a light-spear through her left arm. Your blade flashes by, leaving cuts that burn and freeze, soaking her flesh in rapid-acting poisons and acids.
"It's the time." whispers the voice.
You dive, and put your foot through her lungs. The others scream something about their book. As if anyone would remember this enough to write about it. You keep at it for a bit longer, and soon enough she goes down.
The Voice goes into another tangent about freedom or whatever, but you're frankly had a bad day and you don't have much patience for that.
The Big Brothers go into a frenzy after she's brought down, but it doesn't help them much. Nicole's smoke covers enough to disrupt their teamwork almost completely. You dash to behead one, a ricocheting bullet- you recognize the sound, it's Nicole- takes care of another, Max brings down one more, and you find yourself all done. One of them tries to bring down the walls and drown you with dreg, but it's useless with Emil in the scene. He falls down with a few holes littering his chest, and your fellow Office member points his pistol at the Big Sister's cooling body, making a silent question.
You nod. A gunshot echoes, smothering the doise for just one second.
A bit later, Nicole comes out of the smoke, covered in blood, with a thick R. Corp brand cigar in her mouth.
"Found it in the Big Sister's room." she says, taking a long drag. "Those are pretty good."
"Murder on the throat, though." mumbles Emil.
"A bit, yeah. Pretty acidic. Way too expensive, too."
Max takes out his armor, does a flex, and smiles brightly at you.
"So, are we READY?"
You shake your head.
"We'll need to check if we're alone. After that, we can get to hauling the crates."
You check- and yes, there's no one left. The floors above are completely submerged, nobody is there. You wonder how that works- perhaps the fact the dreg has no weight and no shape means it is not necessarily subject to gravity. Perhaps that's why it can coat buildings without bringing them down or falling down itself.
Now, for the second part of the job.
Smuggling Enkephalin through Nest borders is stupidly illegal. Smuggling Enkephalin through District borders is still illegal, but much more workable.
After all, it isn't a crime, not yet.
You count… twenty-seven crates. Each is filled with nine tubes containing one liter of Enkhephalin each. One stray tube. Two hundred and forty-four liters of Enkhephalin. Unless someone cracks L. Corp's Singularity or finds a better one really quickly, this will be worth a CEO's ransom soon enough.
You take a deep breath. Time slows down.
This place was not very well-defended for something worth this much money, you think. Probably wanted to keep it discreet- Big Sisters and the like moving around brings attention. One was already too much.
Now that you think of it, there's opportunity here- your client is very obviously a Ring agent despite being a Zwei director, and Linette has the evidence to prove it. If you leak that information out to his Association… you won't be paid, but you'll get to keep the crates. That's the issue with doing things off the books.
You have enough influence to get away with it. But you will certainly burn some of your bridges in the underworld. And liquidating those crates is dangerous and risky. If you just hand out the Enkephalin to them… officially, this is a contract that tells you to destroy a suspected Middle operation, with the Enkephalin being the expected contraband you are supposed to relinquish. Unofficially, the Enkephalin is the focus. In fact, you were approached with the proposal of leaving some of the Middle alive to draw fire on you and distract from whatever scheme they'd run to make those tubes of green liquid into money without attracting much attention.
Hm. According to what little bits Linette got in her initial infiltration, your employer has a man in the inside of the Middle. Big Brother rank. That is an incredibly difficult to get asset. Very large and complex conspiracy for sure.
But the info he got suggested a bit less Enkephalin than this. You could- you could pocket some. Best of both worlds, and expected in trades like those. Hm.
You think they'll definitely notice, but they can't call you out on it. At most they will distrust you. You will pocket just a little. The stray tube? Or perhaps one crate.
One crate it'll be. Time resumes. You spare a glance at the rift in the air.
"Alright, everyone!" you call out. "We'll haul them up the building, and then jump over to the next. Everyone already knows the meetup area. Any questions?"
"Are we keeping any of this?" asks Nicole. Emil smiles. Max starts putting his armor back on.
"One crate. We'll leave it in the lower floors of the other building. Submerge it on dreg. I'll pick it up later."
Max frowns.
"You sure? That's NASTY."
It is.
"I suppose so."
"...boss." asks Emil.
"What?"
"I can carry it up my ammo store." he says, pointing at the spatial fold in his coat. "I, uh, didn't fill it up again yesterday."
What?
"I told you to. That was dangerous, Emil."
"Yeah, forgot. Stayed up the night watching those shitty Red Mist movies with Sleepy and lost the time."
You sigh.
Alright, then.
"They aren't shitty." mutters Nicole, offended. Emil doesn't retort.
Everyone is tired, including you.
But, well, there's still some more to do.
There's always more to do.
An impossible taste in your tongue.
An unidentifable blight upon your sight.
Here you are, in the Backstreets of District 24, under X. Corp's questionable supervision, sitting atop a building you can't even call decayed.
"You- you're sure we have to stay here for much longer, boss?" hisses Emil, the freshly bought gas mask covering his eyes and muffling his voice. "I hate this place."
You nod. Your stakeout will unfortunately have to continue for a bit longer. This place is also starting to get grating.
The four of you- Nicole, Max, Emil and you- have, as far as you remember, been hired to take down a major Middle operation in here.
Your contractor is very obviously just a Ring front, but you really can't bring yourself to care. He pays well- the sort of "take a number and double it" well- in the very least.
At the moment, while Emil curses uncharacteristically often to distract from the doise, Nicole, completely covered with bandages, is just staring at nothing in particular. She's not smoking anything- it's difficult to even light a cigarette. Max- hockey mask, armor plates covering every inch of skin- is completely silent, looking extremely disturbed by what his large eyes are seeing.
Well, not seeing. Or kind of seeing.
You check your wristwatch.
Twenty-three minutes to the Night in the Backstreets. Almost time.
The doise is getting more and more grating as you four await. You breath and feel the voice whispering jn your ears, warm and soothing as always. For a second, you forget the doise.
You ask her an innocent question, to distract yourself. You ask her if she's ever been here before.
She pauses.
"I come often, to the Nest. To the factories. They're very crowded and yet so very lonely." she whispers. "Those Backstreets are neither. You are never alone, here- even if you wish you were. People don't hear me much, here. Some of them would rather not hear anything at all."
You sympathize, a bit. You tune her out again and close our eyes.
The truth is, you dislike those Backstreets- they're genuinely one of most unpleasant places you've ever had the misfortune to visit, and that is an accomplishment, considering you've been to the Ruins. You avoid this place as much as you can, but with this much money in the line you can't really refuse.
Now, streets are empty. The Sweepers steer clear of District X's more dreg-choked streets, and in nights like those they just don't come out at all. As far as you know, it's because they have senses humans normally don't- so there's just more ways to be exposed.
Every District has its own culture and circumstances, and that extends to the Backstreets. From the magical power of "luck" that rules District J rigged gambling halls, to the smoke-choked air of the old L. Corp- you suppose it will be older L. Corp soon- and Cross-Section's pollution.
Cross-Section is the Wing known as X. Corp. Their name is a bit unusual- you've been told that the Head almost did not allow it- but, well, their logo is an X. A box slashed in two angles, forming one.
Their Singularity, as far as you know, allows them create objects with impossible properties. Unrealistically tough and light metals and plastic, food more nutritious then should be possible. They offer the other Wings construction material for the most part, though there are manufacturing plants for the augmenting most complex objects with their technology. A simple, but powerful Singularity, with one glaring downside- waste.
It's almost an open secret how it really works. Nobody knows how, but they're certain- things aren't being augmented at all. There's some sort of transfer involved, those properties are coming from somewhere. X. Corp doesn't bother correcting anyone. Why would they need to, when almost everyone relies on them for the most basic of infrastructure?
That theory explains the dregs, at least.
The Backstreets of District 24 are choked with this… substance. Some streets have more than others. You don't like thinking about it, but you're surrounded by this stuff so you can't help but do so.
To your vision and your senses, objects have properties. They might be decided arbitrarily, but everything has. Intrinsic properties. This is "heavy." This is "light." This is "red," or "blue."
But now, what if there weren't any?
This is what you "see" around you. The waste X. Corp dumps on their own Backstreets- this gunk with no properties left but volume.
The citizens around here call it the dregs. It's a sort of… substance. It doesn't really have anything resembling a texture or an appearance. Your eyes glaze off it painfully, because there isn't really anything you can…
You scratch at your hair. You're not thinking very clearly. The doise's getting to you.
The noise the thing makes at the slightest stimuli- when it is touched by the wind, by your boots, by the rain, by mere vibrations- is the "doise." The noise that isn't a noise. It's everywhere. Going in here is like getting a fresh serving of tinnitus.
As far as you know, the people born here get used to it, to having this gunk choking the streets, impossible not-matter that doesn't smell and yet does. It's not very surprising. A human body can get used to anything. If you were born here, it would probably be much easier to not choke on the not-taste that coats the air every time you open your mouth.
Nicole is sitting in a fetal position.
"Is it going… to take much longer." she says, taking hurried breaths and holding back the urge to vomit with each one. It's the rain, you suppose.
It's not raining, and yet it is. "Dreg rain," or "drain."
It's called that because it drains you, you think with a silent, grim chuckle. The doise just gets unbearable as it touches everything on its way down. It's not even possible to identify the raindrops by sight, and touching them with your skin… is not recommended.
All the water in this place is like that- infected, some sources more than others. The tapwater's almost safe. Were it not for the spurts of doise every time you tried to wash your hands, it would be fine. Because of that, bottled water imported from other Districts is popular enough to be District 24's main import.
The water… even now, you don't feel it in your clothes. It doesn't soak anything. All you feel are the vibrations. It can only be perceived by what it produces peripherally- the pitter-patter of the not-quite-rain echoing in the dark.
You suppose that this- this feeling you are all soaked in, it's no more then a response. No more then a reaction. Some people have called X. Corp's Singularity unnatural, but if something is possible, if something is real, is it not natural? Nature does not abhor a vaccuum- most of space is empty space, after all. It's just that you aren't used to this. There is nothing really wrong, here. It's just a set of circumstances you are not used to.
Seven minutes to the Night in the Backstreets.
"Bad memories?" you ask her.
"It wasn't ever quite as bad as…" she pauses, scratching at the bandages. "This."
Yes. It wasn't.
"We'll go home soon, don't worry."
"I know." a sigh. "Doesn't make it much better."
She stands up, taking her pistol out of the holster, and goes off to another side of the building, to fiddle with it before you go off.
Four minutes.
Max is uncomfortable with the mask. He didn't manage to find one his size. Not one rated for the drain, at least. Making a custom one would take time he didn't really want to waste.
He's been here before- he knows what it's like.
"How are you doing, Duo?"
He blinks, and almost flexes- before stopping himself. It would tear up the armor. He looks immensely miserable. You sigh.
"Doing FINE. Not really happy about not being able to empower my MUSCLES-" another suppressed flex. The frown behind the mask gets deeper. "But we all gotta do the jobs we gotta do, RIGHT! ONCE WE GET HOME, IT'S GONNA BE THE DAY FOR THE ABS. DON'T FORGET THAT, BOSS!"
You laugh, and pat him in the back.
One minute.
"Emil?"
"Yeah, it's time." he does not even look eager. There is violence incoming, and he does not look eager.
All four of you turn towards a building. You can't even identify its shape- that's just how submerged in dreg it is. The most you can say is that the way your eyes slide off it, the way it seems to move without moving, suggests a sort of foam.
You take out the briefcase you bought for the mission. The streets you'll have to break through are the worst, most dreg-choked ones in the whole District. It used to be part of the Nest, the location of a manufacturing plant. Nobody really remembers what was made in it, just that something went wrong, and whatever was in the container they used to store all the dreg broke.
Since now, rumors say, X. Corp's factories just have pipelines leading straight to the Backstreets. No on-site storage anywhere.
And this place… well, it wasn't forgotten.
It really is the perfect place for an Enkephalin smuggling operation. The most valuable contraband imaginable in this day and age. It's all in that building you don't really see.
But there's one thing you see.
No one would look for an operation here, because no one is remotely willing to wade through the dreg waist-deep for that with any amount of regularity.
But your eyes can see a tiny, flickering light, through the surface of the dreg- the Middle troopers, in some sort of vehicle. It flashes once, then twice. Some sort of message.
It disappears into the dreg, but you know it entered the building. The door is open- the barriers are down. You have less then five minutes.
"Alright."
It's the Night in the Backstreets. All around the City, the Sweepers should be coming out of their nest in droves, swarms of monsters arriving to clean up the trash. People barricade their doors and wait the Night out.
The shining device inside the briefcase glows.
W-Corp's logo is proudly emblazoned within its length. You unsheathe your sword. As far as everyone but you and your employer are concerned, none of this happened.
The device shines, and you blink. There is an horrendous ripping sound- not as painful as the doise, though- and a tear in space forms.
You leap through it.
You are no longer awaiting atop a building.
A number of Middle soldiers- the Little Brothers and Little Sisters packing the crates, a dozen Big Brothers sitting around a table playing some sort of board game, one of them holding a large wad of Ahn in her large hands. A pale Big Sister is overseeing the entire operation.
Fists are raised.
After the stakeout, this feels almost too easy. The brawl is comforting after the sensory torture.
The Little Brothers and Sisters are shooed away and told to get into the vehicles. They know they won't be of any use- you're too strong to be brought down by the weight of bodies. Nicole belches out a blast of smoke and vanishes- she will take care of them.
The Big Brothers know they're no match for you, but they put up an admirable fight. They can't surpass you in any category, so they try to give opportunities to the Big Sister, who's closer to your level.
She's tough. The silent type, not the one to monologue about vengeance mid-fight. The others call her Jeanne.
Agile. Fighting style relying largely on kicking, clever enough to install an air-vent implant in her feet- even if you try and parry a blow, the flow of hot air disrupts your defense just enough for her to land another, and her limbs have tattoos you recognize- disruptive electric fields. It's meant to impart that little bit of initial momentum- catch an enemy off-guard, disrupt them, land a good blow and leave them disoriented from the electric pulse, use their disorientation to land another hit, keep riding that until you win. Simple but effective.
But you're just too fast. She's good, but not good enough. A dagger materializes in your hand, and a voice- that bright voice- whispers in your ears. A breach in her defenses.
You lodge the light-dagger in her leg, and she grits her teeth.
Emil and Max are handling the Big Brothers well enough. You spin and roundhouse kick her in the chest- throwing her back. Then, you spin in midair, change your angle, and drive a light-spear through her left arm. Your blade flashes by, leaving cuts that burn and freeze, soaking her flesh in rapid-acting poisons and acids.
"It's the time." whispers the voice.
You dive, and put your foot through her lungs. The others scream something about their book. As if anyone would remember this enough to write about it. You keep at it for a bit longer, and soon enough she goes down.
The Voice goes into another tangent about freedom or whatever, but you're frankly had a bad day and you don't have much patience for that.
The Big Brothers go into a frenzy after she's brought down, but it doesn't help them much. Nicole's smoke covers enough to disrupt their teamwork almost completely. You dash to behead one, a ricocheting bullet- you recognize the sound, it's Nicole- takes care of another, Max brings down one more, and you find yourself all done. One of them tries to bring down the walls and drown you with dreg, but it's useless with Emil in the scene. He falls down with a few holes littering his chest, and your fellow Office member points his pistol at the Big Sister's cooling body, making a silent question.
You nod. A gunshot echoes, smothering the doise for just one second.
A bit later, Nicole comes out of the smoke, covered in blood, with a thick R. Corp brand cigar in her mouth.
"Found it in the Big Sister's room." she says, taking a long drag. "Those are pretty good."
"Murder on the throat, though." mumbles Emil.
"A bit, yeah. Pretty acidic. Way too expensive, too."
Max takes out his armor, does a flex, and smiles brightly at you.
"So, are we READY?"
You shake your head.
"We'll need to check if we're alone. After that, we can get to hauling the crates."
You check- and yes, there's no one left. The floors above are completely submerged, nobody is there. You wonder how that works- perhaps the fact the dreg has no weight and no shape means it is not necessarily subject to gravity. Perhaps that's why it can coat buildings without bringing them down or falling down itself.
Now, for the second part of the job.
Smuggling Enkephalin through Nest borders is stupidly illegal. Smuggling Enkephalin through District borders is still illegal, but much more workable.
After all, it isn't a crime, not yet.
You count… twenty-seven crates. Each is filled with nine tubes containing one liter of Enkhephalin each. One stray tube. Two hundred and forty-four liters of Enkhephalin. Unless someone cracks L. Corp's Singularity or finds a better one really quickly, this will be worth a CEO's ransom soon enough.
You take a deep breath. Time slows down.
This place was not very well-defended for something worth this much money, you think. Probably wanted to keep it discreet- Big Sisters and the like moving around brings attention. One was already too much.
Now that you think of it, there's opportunity here- your client is very obviously a Ring agent despite being a Zwei director, and Linette has the evidence to prove it. If you leak that information out to his Association… you won't be paid, but you'll get to keep the crates. That's the issue with doing things off the books.
You have enough influence to get away with it. But you will certainly burn some of your bridges in the underworld. And liquidating those crates is dangerous and risky. If you just hand out the Enkephalin to them… officially, this is a contract that tells you to destroy a suspected Middle operation, with the Enkephalin being the expected contraband you are supposed to relinquish. Unofficially, the Enkephalin is the focus. In fact, you were approached with the proposal of leaving some of the Middle alive to draw fire on you and distract from whatever scheme they'd run to make those tubes of green liquid into money without attracting much attention.
Hm. According to what little bits Linette got in her initial infiltration, your employer has a man in the inside of the Middle. Big Brother rank. That is an incredibly difficult to get asset. Very large and complex conspiracy for sure.
But the info he got suggested a bit less Enkephalin than this. You could- you could pocket some. Best of both worlds, and expected in trades like those. Hm.
You think they'll definitely notice, but they can't call you out on it. At most they will distrust you. You will pocket just a little. The stray tube? Or perhaps one crate.
One crate it'll be. Time resumes. You spare a glance at the rift in the air.
"Alright, everyone!" you call out. "We'll haul them up the building, and then jump over to the next. Everyone already knows the meetup area. Any questions?"
"Are we keeping any of this?" asks Nicole. Emil smiles. Max starts putting his armor back on.
"One crate. We'll leave it in the lower floors of the other building. Submerge it on dreg. I'll pick it up later."
Max frowns.
"You sure? That's NASTY."
It is.
"I suppose so."
"...boss." asks Emil.
"What?"
"I can carry it up my ammo store." he says, pointing at the spatial fold in his coat. "I, uh, didn't fill it up again yesterday."
What?
"I told you to. That was dangerous, Emil."
"Yeah, forgot. Stayed up the night watching those shitty Red Mist movies with Sleepy and lost the time."
You sigh.
Alright, then.
"They aren't shitty." mutters Nicole, offended. Emil doesn't retort.
Everyone is tired, including you.
But, well, there's still some more to do.
There's always more to do.
Awesome
I love what you did with X corps backstreets and singularity
I love what you did with X corps backstreets and singularity
kaillll
Judgment Upon You
It makes me think of "Heavy Moisture", like 70% moisture in the air and high heat make it insufferable to be in With your every move, feel like you're moving in water, but not quite there and eventually you just gets to the point that it feels like a sauna without being in one It makes your clothes damp uncomfortable, and disgusting
TheForbiddenZone
DOCTOR MOBIUS
- Location
- The Big Empty
Started to reread every single page in this thread here, and
praying that we get to see the Lech apocrypha sometime in the future fr
It was not, in fact, finished after Bloody Tides began
praying that we get to see the Lech apocrypha sometime in the future fr
4.5 - Overlooking Vision
thenew
#1 Masters of the Bazaar Fan
- Location
- My Lodgings
[X] Plan: Making Waves
-[X] Investigate Rhine Labs' latest moves.
--[X] Silence: The good doctor is both intimately familiar with the organization and thoroughly disabused, making her an ideal investigator for anything Saria would miss or omit.
-[X] Investigate the local authorities.
--[X] Wympe: No doubt Rhodes Island operates within some tortured legal grey zone to conduct its medical services, let alone paramilitary activities. Wympe will have a report with everything you need to know, who to bribe, and what to avoid with the i's dotted and t's crossed.
-[X] Investigate the local underworld.
--[X] Capone: The former mafioso's skillset is immediately and obviously useful here; some of Rhodes Island's pricier and more restricted medications shaved off the top will give in an easy entry into the higher-end of illegal distribution networks that our pals would be using.
-[X] Gauge the status of the local Infected.
--[X] Saria: This is why she's supposed to be here, after all. No reason to give any observers an immediate indication something is amiss.
[X] Deal with the matter of Ifrit.
--[X] Sieghardt: She's not the first victim of Wing experimentation you've encountered, and since returning her home isn't a practicable solution, best to figure out one sooner rather than later. Plus, speaking to the girl alone might give you further insight into whatever ... situation exists with her, Saria, and Silence, ideally before it disrupts the mission.
-[X] Search for rumours of highwaymen.
--[X] Nicole: Our most generalist member, she'll be the most able to take on the 'pulse' of the local rumor mill. No doubt Mr. H and Alvin will have made a strong impression.
-[X] Investigate Rhine Labs' latest moves.
--[X] Silence: The good doctor is both intimately familiar with the organization and thoroughly disabused, making her an ideal investigator for anything Saria would miss or omit.
-[X] Investigate the local authorities.
--[X] Wympe: No doubt Rhodes Island operates within some tortured legal grey zone to conduct its medical services, let alone paramilitary activities. Wympe will have a report with everything you need to know, who to bribe, and what to avoid with the i's dotted and t's crossed.
-[X] Investigate the local underworld.
--[X] Capone: The former mafioso's skillset is immediately and obviously useful here; some of Rhodes Island's pricier and more restricted medications shaved off the top will give in an easy entry into the higher-end of illegal distribution networks that our pals would be using.
-[X] Gauge the status of the local Infected.
--[X] Saria: This is why she's supposed to be here, after all. No reason to give any observers an immediate indication something is amiss.
[X] Deal with the matter of Ifrit.
--[X] Sieghardt: She's not the first victim of Wing experimentation you've encountered, and since returning her home isn't a practicable solution, best to figure out one sooner rather than later. Plus, speaking to the girl alone might give you further insight into whatever ... situation exists with her, Saria, and Silence, ideally before it disrupts the mission.
-[X] Search for rumours of highwaymen.
--[X] Nicole: Our most generalist member, she'll be the most able to take on the 'pulse' of the local rumor mill. No doubt Mr. H and Alvin will have made a strong impression.
4.5 - Overlooking Vision
When the boss comes down to deliver the jobs everyone's supposed to be doing, nobody's really surprised.
You, for the most part, were already expecting this the moment you got picked for the mission.
You don't plan on going back to Siracusa, but that doesn't mean you've suddenly found yourself without the skills you spent your entire life using. Really, Sieghart would be dumb to not use them.
So, that leads you to where you are now- scouring the city in search of the kind of hole the city's local underworld would use as a hideout and meeting place. It's been two days of this and you think you have enough to get there.
It's probably going to be a bar, in the case of the lower ranks, some gambling house for the ones halfway, and someone's mansion for the administration.
Now, where to look? You've sorted through half the city so far, with varying results. The higher ups of this city's underworld, you suspect, are likely all in a very specific building- the huge Rhine Labs HQ.
Everything in this city's dependant on them, after all. No surprise there. All the crime's gotta be feeding off Rhine Labs in some way, they'd be stupid not to.
And there's something really weird going on there, for sure. You aren't sure what, but everyone seems to have a weird feeling about them.
It seems Columbia's streets aren't as mazey as the ones back home, and the city's nowhere as... compressed as Lungmen is.
You try to recall the last time you went to a Columbian city. That was... many, many years ago. The branches of your old family that went here, searching for new opportunities- those were still active, you think. The Capone famiglia was still a thing. The city was far less shiny. Springfields, probably. That was the name.
You were just a kid, weren't you?
You scratch behind your ears. You barely remember the time before you had to join the famiglia's... operations. You remember traveling a bit- a train station, your mother was proud of it.
You think the Capones were involved with its construction.
The train station is probably still standing, but you wonder what family's got their paws on it? You hope Sicilia didn't hand it over to the Bianchi, at least. Your father would roll on his grave at the idea.
Huh.
Well, if it is with them... that's pretty good, you guess. Best to forget about it.
You adjust your glasses. You don't really need them anymore. Your eyes are... better than they ever were before, and you don't think the hardy glass will afford more protection than the meat itself does.
Do you even need protection at all? You've gotten torn in half and gotten right back up afterwards.
Could you die?
Could you age? That's a thing you really should try to figure out sooner rather than later, at least. It seems appropriate, with the Persistence being what it was. How you're meant to test that kind of immortality is anyone's guess, but it's honestly not too far out there. You might actually live forever, as long as you don't get killed.
Assuming that it's true... What are you going to fill eternity with?
Hm. The alleyways around this area are less taken care of. The trash gets taken out less often, going by the piles of it around the corners. You're getting in one of the worst corners of the city. The last one was useful, not much going on there, but you did make note on some drug deals going on, that and the schedules of some dealers. The last one before that was pretty good, you've managed to spy on some gang, one of their backers, and catch some important phone numbers.
Those guys were all talk, but you did manage to hear some stuff about robberies and protection rackets. Those seem to be very difficult to run here- with the tons of police around, you aren't surprised. They were getting chewed out for trying to pull of one, and told to stick to the drugs.
You think the number they were calling was a big time dealer. You've got that guy and the small fry, all you're left to find is the distributors and you've basically got the flow of drugs into Trimounts pinned down.
It's less than you thought it would be, given by the size of this city- again, it's all the cops.
You take out a small notebook from your pocket, and note the streets you're in.
Crossroads of Eightside Lane and Lombard Street - good place to check next
Trimounts does a good job of making people glaze over the shitty spots, but they're always there. There's no Infected quarter, not officially, but you can pinpoint the exact spot where the guys in charge kinda stopped giving a shit, and that's where you're going to find what you want.
Nobody's looking. Your senses detect no cameras anywhere. You keep paying attention as you continue to walk around, searching for a good spot. You scour through buildings, trying to get a feel for the environment.
Nothing of worth. A bar here- no, that one's too clean. A deserted building, that one's just full of bums. Not Infected, you note, you don't catch the particular scent that Originium leaves in the air.
Here it is- the right building, with a pretty damn convenient hole in a wall, the exact kind of building you were looking for. They tried to cover it up with the trashbags, but nothing escapes you.
A chunk of the left side of your body dissolves into tendrils, and slithers inside. It remains connected, it has to- no acid mines or zombies for you- but you just want to hear through it. It's thin enough to not be a big loss of mass even if someone catches it and burns it down. Then, you're slithering around the pipes. Not inside, thank god, just around. You climb through until you find a section of the wall that's thin enough that your little stalk can just punch clean through without much effort. Then, you form an eye and ear on the tip. You need to be careful- if people spot thing, you might end up being shot at.
You throw a glance at the bar. You hear... shitty music, shitty beer, fries so soaked with oil they make your face scrunch up from this distance.
Turns out, made men everywhere share some characteristics. They all like to show off, they all use the same damn euphemisms, and they all like to meet in the worst kind of bar you could imagine.
Heh. Some things don't change. It's a completely different country, but you can hear the same kind of bluster, just different slang.
Some of the men do coke. A few, but enough for you to catch the smell. You don't get the appeal of that one. But even before the tendrils it just made you have really shitty sleep for a month afterward, and now you suspect it probably doesn't have any effect.
A tendril stretches farther, growing into a sort of branch for more stability. You focus, and eyes bloom in the tips like really ugly flowers. Or fruit. You're not good with those metaphors.
It's the same sort of scouting you did when you got to Lungmen for the first time. It's just that you've got it way easier, now- when you can hear and see and smell this far.
Those ones are soldiers. That one Lupo is also a soldier, but she wasn't one until today. So, she's celebrating. That Caprinae's got the disposition of a bagman. That Vulpo just whacked someone and isn't feeling too well about it.
Your hands reach out for the bribe, nestled inside your torso, and the tendril slowly starts to retract inside your flesh. The small box of- very pricey- Oripathy suppressants.
Skimming off from charities is a time-honored tradition back home, but you do feel kind of bad about doing it this time. Funny.
You are a shapeless thing.
Go where they say go you must go. Crawl and slither. You have to go- but the laughter stops, for a second, if you get there. And then you hear. You need to hear them, you need to find them.
You hate them, because you never find them. And the laughter starts right back up later.
Push through the rot. Every fragment, every corner of this city must be touched, every little nook and cranny. Nobody sees you. And you see nobody.
You cannot find any sign of your quarry.
Time passes. The world is dark. You're back. Emerge through the piping, crash through the vents.
Where are you?
You reach out. Plants, vines, and midges everywhere. Your eyes- malformed, regrowing- can't see where you're going. You're going nowhere.
More laughter. You wait until it gets a bit better.
Where are they? Where are they?
There's something amiss in Trimounts, you think.
Silence is a perceptive investigator, and diligent in her work. You suppose scientists are like this for the most part, or at least they're supposed to be.
This time, though, all she found was silence.
Heh.
Well, what the report seems to point towards is that nobody has come in or out of the deeper parts of the Rhine Labs HQ in the center of the city. The rest is all working, but they're apparently closed down and prevented entry, or something like that?
A number of high personnel went incommunicable, and the Director of Structural Section simply didn't go to an academic meeting scheduled for last week. The reception is there, but any questions or requests have been stalled out- as you've heard a journalist describe with great chagrin, it feels like they've erected a brick wall just for them.
The scientists aren't saying anything and don't seem to find anything strange. The media hasn't started that much of a ruckus about it yet, but if it doesn't go back to normal it will very soon.
And Saria's own contact didn't say anything so far either.
Right as you are skimming through some newspapers. Thinking.
How does, exactly, this relate to Mr. H and Alvar? It has to, in some way. Doesn't it? There has to be something else at work. Abel didn't find anything strange, from what forays into Rhine Labs you asked him to do, but he isn't an investigator- most of his best work was simply following Carmen's glaring trail.
And now, with the Light permeating Terra, you don't even have that.
So, you're left with trying to figure out when exactly did this start happening. Think, Sieghart- what exactly does this point towards? You need to consider a lot of things.
As you immerse yourself in thought, the room temperature kicks up significantly. An attack? You reach for your sword, but then-
"Are you an alien?!" Ifrit screams at the top of her lungs, bursting into your office.
Well, you did want to give her some attention and try to figure the kid out anyway.
"...what gave you that impression?"
"Don't try to hide from me! I've heard it from Silence that you're from another world!"
You raise an eyebrow. Silence just told the kid that?
Ifrit clearly notices the glance you're giving her, despite your hat. It's a perceptive kid, that one. How old was she again? She's tall.
"She told you?"
Ifrit laughs and crosses her arms.
"Nah! I heard her talking while she was sleeping after doing her boring work on the computer! I didn't bring any of my homework here so I don't have to do any!" she says, laughing, before sweeping the newspaper from your table.
You blink. Huh?
"Eh, what's this? It's a newspaper? What are ya doing with this, huh?"
"Research-"
She flinches at the word. Minutely, but noticeably. It's the wrong move. It's a very wrong move.
"-on what Rhine Labs is currently doing. Could you return that?" you finish.
"It's really flammable, ain't it?" a little jet of flame erupts from her hand and coils around her palm. "Call me Mistress Ifrit and I'll give it back!!"
She follows this with uproarious laughter.
Heh, you might as well talk a bit to the kid, you guess. It could give you some insight on what's going on now, between Saria and Silence, before it gets to disrupt the mission.
"Mistress Ifrit, could you return it?"
"Only if you tell me if you're an alien or not!"
"I guess I kinda am an alien." you answer. You didn't really think of it that way, but you are from another planet, aren't you?
She throws the newspaper back at you, even if not very accurately. You catch it easily enough before it flies through the window.
"I was right…"
You are an alien, yes. Unless someone throws a curveball and the City turns out to be on the other side of the planet all along, with there being two supercontinents separated by the ocean and isolated by the Ruins or something. It wouldn't be surprising, you've had way worse revelations thrown your way, but it's unlikely. If you were on the same planet, someone would have found out about it.
Explorers have tried to go as far in a cardinal direction before, but the Ruins seem to stretch on forever. You can walk, and walk, and walk, and you might never find an end to them, because you keep finding yourself back where you started as soon as you cross a certain line. There might be something beyond- but there's just no way to know, not with the means you have now.
Oh well, it's not your problem.
"Yeah, I'm an alien."
You should probably get yourself documentation saying you're from some country, at least. Capone can probably help.
"For real?!" screams the kid. "Do you have a ship?!"
"That's illegal." you say, chuckling.
"Eh?"
"Flying too high's illegal back home. Decree by the government. I'd never seen a plane or a helicopter before I got here, you know!"
Ifrit seems insulted.
"That's lame. What are you even an alien for!"
Hm.
You suppose you can afford the kid a bit of trust if you want to get hers.
You turn towards her and say, your voice a whisper-
"Want to see something cool?"
She blinks, and then nods. Thrown off course, but eager.
You take a knife out of your standard-issue jacket. After Kazimierz, you've decided to start using all of those pockets for something.
Hm, you should probably get a gun and start figuring out Arts at some point.
"See this knife?"
"Yeah!"
"Pay attention to it."
Time slows down. Your body becomes a blur, and then a flash. The knife is left suspended in the air, blade pointed upwards.
You throw the knife upwards with a slap on the pommel. Ifrit blinks.
Then, you kick off your office chair and reach the roof in a single bound. You pull out a second knife.
You throw the second knife towards the first- calibrating the angle and the force so they collide with each other just in the way you want. You kick off the top of the room and land back in the ground just in time to catch them both- one knife on the way to pierce the ground, and another sliced perfectly in two.
Ifrit blinks. Then she blinks again.
"That was so cool! I almost didn't see you!" she says. "Do it again!"
You take back to the chair, and spare another glance at the newspaper. This one is weeks old, and doesn't have anything important.
"Well, with one condition."
"Eh?"
"I just have a question, don't worry. I can show you more knife tricks. Is Silence doing well?" you say, tossing the split knife into the trash bin. "She doesn't seem to be well around Saria, so I have been a bit worried."
Ifrit narrows her eyes.
"Why do you want to know? I don't even know you! You're not going to trick me."
You lift your hands placatingly.
"I'm just her commander, for now, and If anything's going badly I want to know."
"...no. She hasn't." Ifrit's face scrunches up. "She's always angry around Saria, and she doesn't want me to talk to her either! I just- uhhgh!"
"I see." That's interesting. You'll go slowly with the kid, they don't have much reason to trust you yet. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
"...ugh, you're kinda boring for an alien! I'm doing fine, okay! There's no voice in my head that can stop the mighty Ifrit!"
Voice in her head? Time slows down. It's best if you're careful with this.
You call out.
"Are you there, Abel?"
No answer. It seems he is still sleeping.
The Plague Doctor makes a vague noise of disapproval, and asks to make its opinions known. You give it the nod. Then, you have an equally vague sense of understanding. To the Plague Doctor, the child is surrounded by the thick, cloying miasma of suffering, in her past and future. A miserable birth in hellflame, and an agonizing death in burning cinders. Then, dust.
It croons mournfully in the corner of your vision, an elegy for what will not be. It envisions a glowing cross on the child's head- then, bone-white wings spreading from her back. Then, it shakes the dreams off- and steps back into the dark recesses of your head.
That was somewhat helpful. You've still got nothing in the voice in her head, though.
Time resumes. You'll go with the simplest path.
"Voice in your head?"
"... he's always there, ugh. He's just getting louder. It hurts less when he talks, too."
He?
Uh.
"What does he sound like?"
"Really strong! And deep. He's always asking me if I'm doing my stuff in time! I know when I'm going to do it, stop pestering me!"
…You suppose it's not Carmen. Might be a good idea to keep an eye on the kid, but it doesn't seem to be Carmen this time.
Well, if one made a promise, they should keep it. You take another knife out of your coat. You have quite a few of those.
"You want to guess how many I can juggle?"
Going by the shine in her eyes, she does.
You are trudging forward, shivering, trying to get to a warmer bit of ground.
They're laughing again. High up there in their puppet strings.
Vibrations in the ground. Footsteps. A towering presence, heavy footsteps. Footsteps. Footsteps.
"Ah, there you are, Jesselton."
You feel the burning sensation upon your liquid flesh- the light pouring into you.
"Have you located them?"
You squirm.
"A pity."
There is no silence- the laughter continues. You are not meant to be where you are. You squirm.
No answer.
Something happens. Pressure. Something is lifting you up.
"You will regain your form, don't worry. How are the new eyes doing?"
You do not understand the vibrations that touch your skin. You struggle. The pressure increases.
"Oh well. I believe things are doing rather fine. Go then, off with you!"
The pressure relieves. You splatter into a puddle.
You need…
You need to find them.
"No, no, you can go back to your job. They're hiding somewhere in the city- I know it. They wouldn't leave now."
"Not when she's still here, after all."
The laughter starts again.
"I suppose…"
Something, somewhere, went horribly wrong for you.
You hope it was his fault. You hope you have an enemy, somewhere- who is responsible for what you are.
If it was yours, you might have nowhere to turn to.
"I'll have to make do with the tissue samples, then. That coil around the femur was interesting enough. It is- refreshing, to have a mind this clear."
You ignore the vibrations, and trudge back to what you know to be a vent.
You leave nothing of yourself behind.
"The guy keeps taking your parking?"
"Yeah…" says the bull-horned woman, sighing wistfully. "The asshole. And he keeps telling me to just get there early."
She lowers her cup, looking you in the eye.
"But that's just a bit of it. It's just… everything!" she devolves into mumbles for a few seconds. "I've worked myself to the bone and I still get no respect, you know?"
The cop places her sixth spoonful of sugar in her coffee. Milk, whipped cream, chocolate, you think that smell is cinnamon, wow.
You wonder why anyone would drink coffee and not actually have any coffee in it. You suppose it's different for people who can actually enjoy the properties of caffeine!
"That's rough, but it's the same way everywhere." you say. You think she's somewhat annoying, too, but you don't say that. "You said that about that other guy-"
"Don't get me started on Jake. That fuck. It's because of what that faggot said that I'm getting tossed off the case. What's next, am I going to be a fucking meter maid?" she looks furious. "We never get any respect and then they're given it already from the beginning, you know? We always have to build it from scratch. Those sorts just inherit it."
You smile and nod as she keeps ranting, and ranting, and drinking more sugary sludge on your pocket. The law enforcement here is not at all bad. She's opening up about how she knows her coworkers are taking bribes from certain unspecified "people," and you hold back a grin. You think you can find those people- she's the descriptive sort when she talks shit- and see if you can get in touch.
But you won't need it. You have the feeling this woman isn't quite as mad about her coworkers receiving bribes and more that she doesn't get attributed enough importance to be approached. Probably because she radiates that sort of energy that leaves the impression of a hardass.
Frankly, it's a failure on her part. You'd think that if people saw you as someone who'd let those sorts of indiscretions past, they'd start doing them where you can see. A good part of your job is looking personable to get people off their guard, after all. There's nothing like a harmless exterior to sneak in some few abusive terms in somebody's contract. They might even catch them, just think you're too nice to enforce them and let them pass!
Frankly, it's deeply amateurish behavior and you would feel ashamed of yourself if you fell for that one. You can't believe how often you can get one or two Fixer Offices to pay you thrice or four times what they owe you for some contribution or another just by aligning the facts about how much you're owed in a certain way. Most of the time they don't even check your sources, and if you do you're never sloppy enough to choose anyone whose testimony isn't already paid for.
"What's working with Infected like, Wympe?" she frowns. "Must be real streessful. My guys are assholes, but hell, at least they're not going to drop dead and explode on me."
She pauses.
"Except Johnny. I'm sure that fat fuck would swallow a bomb if it looked tasty. One day he's just going to shove a rock chunk down his gullet and die and we'll all be better for it."
Wow, this person is insufferable. But well, when you want to break a chain you find the weakest link? You've found another good contact- someone deeply insecure about their place on the hierarchy is always good to have on hand! They're always very fragile! Not that you'd know from experience, haha!
Honestly, you just love being in your element. What to say now…
"It's stressful! They're all so needy."
A blatant lie, but it's what she wants to hear, isn't it? She wants to think you're juuuust like her, the one competent person in her entire precinct.
The cop- Beatrice, prefers to be called Betty- launches into another rant. She really just wants an excuse. What a dumpster fire of a person!
"-and they're taking me off the blasted case. I keep telling them there isn't just a serial killer, it's trafficking or something more- but they don't want to listen."
"Something more?" she loves to keep talking. She will take any opportunity to keep talking.
She thinks you're a lawyer- a prosecutor- and in her head being one already means you're on the side of justice or whatever. Given by how virulently she was bitching about the local public defender- and what a charming idea! You quite like it. Well, given by how much she was bitching about her, she would not give you anything like what she's giving you now.
Oh well.
"Yeah, there's been those murders going on lately."
Honestly you're surprised you didn't even need to get her drunk or anything. She really is spilling all this out without provocation, huh?
It took so little. Point out some kid shoplifting at a mall during the earlier part of your little meeting and she's looking at you like… Second coming? That's a thing someone said to you earlier, you like the sound of it. Second coming of someone. She looked so proud of herself for barking out at the kid like that. How old was he? Twelve? Honestly you just found it a bit funny. And you were so nervous about getting caught trying to figure out a way to bribe an officer of the law should you need it. Turns out you didn't even need to be nervous, with how the officer is.
Anyway, the punishments here are surprisingly light. Getting caught bribing Zwei means both get their head chopped off unless you're part of a Wing or a Finger, or subsidiary. Getting caught bribing police means the officer gets basically no punishment and the other guy gets imprisoned.
There's also very few summary executions in the code at all, and no notes of extraction of anything like one or two Wings do. At most, hard labor or a relatively bureaucratic death sentence. X. Corp would weep at all the convicts that are going by with completely unextracted and unprocessed qualities!
And, oh, she's ranting about the murders. The other people are kind of uncomfortable. You made a mistake. But, oh, you need to write it down. She's not paying attention to you. Take your pen and a napkin, put it over your leg.
A grisly string of deaths where the corpse is found completely crushed with wide property damage. It goes in a very notable pattern- the killer appears in a house with no signs of breaking in, trashes everything and moves on to another nearby house seemingly at random. Smashes a few houses in a way that seems completely aimless, goes to ground for a few days, repeats.
She stops herself as her phone rings.
"I'm sorry, I'm being called!" she says, shaking. You suppose it's from all the caffeine. "Can you give me your number?"
You don't have a phone at the moment so you give her Sieghart's number. You'll buy another phone in the way down. You know he doesn't use his phone to store anything so he won't have any issue with swapping his with yours.
And she's gone.
Phew. You've been hard at work. Is it all going to go right? Are you going to disappoint everyone? You better not.
You tell the thrumming sound of the ocean in your ears, echoing with squelching and the soft ululations of We Many to go fuck itself.
And as you predicted, she left you with the bill for all the coffee she gulped down.
"Boss."
Oh, the smell of smoke came by almost immediately. You almost didn't notice it. Nicole has been getting even better at sneaking around in those years…
"Oh, Nicole. You can come in."
She opens the door and walks inside the office, plumes of smog already passing through the gaps in her teeth and the corners of her mouth.
"Did you find anything? That was quick."
"I found a guy."
…and?
You gesture for her to continue.
"He had his hammer."
Excuse you?
"Alvar's hammer?"
"Yes. I found it in a pawn shop around the town."
She sounds worried. Anxious. She grinds her teeth- crushing the tip of the cigar until the contents slip into her mouth. Her skin looks, for a spare second, much greyer, much more wrinkles, with tears that hiss smoke and threaten to sprout teeth-
And then you blink, and she's like always.
"Nicole, are you well?" you ask. You're not sure if you are yourself all that well.
"I am. I found the hammer." she pauses. "I am worried. I didn't find anything else. The last time anyone even heard of them was last week."
"Did you find anything else?"
"I interrogated the pawn shop owner. He bought it after it was found in a nearby scrapyard, covered in blood. He had no knowledge of the secondary mode nor any ability to unlock the engine, or the accelerator."
You pause.
"Do you have a location?"
She hands you over a piece of paper. You guess it's the location of the scrapyard.
"I want to buy it. I don't have any money. Can I steal it?"
You pause.
"How much is it?"
She gives a sum. You don't have any context on how much it is, and you do not have any money with you, currently, but Wympe does very likely have both. You could ask her to buy the hammer back when she returns- unless the exchange rate in LMD and the Columbian dollar is significantly distorted, there shouldn't be any issue, should there? But you could simply have it stolen. You trust in her to not get caught.
[ ] Let her steal the hammer.
[ ] Ask Wympe for the money.
Nicole's expression is unreadable.
Someone knocks on the door. Nicole shrugs and leaves just as Saria enters.
"Saria?"
"Operator Sieghart."
She hands you over a thick stack of papers.
"The condition of the local Infected populace is unfortunately worsening." she says. There is no small amount of resentment in her voice. Unlike Silence, that carries an aura of perpetual exhaustion and stress- Saria is ticked off at this one specific thing. A flaw in her perfect disposition. There are more general, id very subtle, signs of stress, but they're comparatively lesser. Before you can gleam anything else, she leaves.
You eye the report, and massage your temples. What is there to pierce together?
It seems that Rhine Labs has significantly cut down on the healthcare benefits for its lower staff and subsidiaries followed shortly after. Treatment has grown too expensive for most of the population to access, and the Infected, as the most vulnerable facet of them, are overflowing into the clinic. After all- somewhat bafflingly to you- this is all being done at abysmal prices, with some cases of employment in exchange for treatment being the worst the victims have to go through. Children are universally exempted from what few fees the clinic asks for.
You wonder where Rhodes Island's money is coming from? This charity can't be sustainable without something. Might it be the thing about gold you heard at the landship?
Anyway, the data Saria has collated suggests that the amount of Infected in the town is increasing steadily. A number of Originium reactor leaks around the city in the last year, focused mainly on the edges of the town- the poorest regions, you'd guess. A number of incidents reported by current patients of the clinic. A truck carrying waste gets involved in a traffic accident and a teenager gets a face full of Originium residue. A dozen residents of a local apartament complex are Infected after a leak in a reactor.
Saria is thorough, exhaustively so. And quick.
You sigh, and decide to get something to eat before you finish reading the report. You guess there will be more to go through soon enough.
Date: ████ ██th, ████
To: Dorothy
From: Parvis
Dorothy, have found yourself hearing voices, lately?
I haven't been well.
Come to Trimounts. I have something I'll need your help for. It's urgent.
All right, you are feeling better. Eating something, even if it was just a sandwich, got you in a better mood-
You spare a glance at the considerably greater amount of reports sitting by your office, and give off a chuckle.
Oh, how you missed this.
You sit by to read them. Capone and Wympe have all finished theirs. Nicole worded her findings a bit better, but nothing beyond that.
You'll start with Capone.
First of all, he's caught some evidence of drug running into the city. Apparently researchers use a lot of it, mainly cocaine?
Most of it is who's selling what. There's more mundane smuggling on the other side of the town- as there's some construction work undergoing there, some people are taking the opportunity to smuggle both medical supplies and Originium fuel through the construction materials, it seems. There are also stories of people- two people- using the part of the city sewers that lead to the wasteland outside to smuggle prototypes stolen from Rhine Labs out of the city. Capone notes he didn't get any more info on those supposed smugglers so he can't be 100% sure- people were very tight-lipped around them- but he says it's definitely a promising lead.
He goes into a bit of mafia history. Columbia once had a lot more Siracusan presence
om it, and it lasted until the Texas- hm- Famiglia was purged and everything went to hell. The current leaders of the Trimounts underworld apparently assumed power after that traumatic period where everyone was recovering from its sudden and bloody absence of the previous rulers of Columbia's criminal network, and owe much of their power due to simple luck, having been the first to take advantage of the power vacuum.
He mentions being able to set up a meeting with some smugglers, and he got himself a contact, too, a man who makes most of his money selling to desperate Infected in the black market, with a bit of those medicines you handed over for him to use as a bribe. He notes it might be best to not expose Rhodes Island personnel to him.
Wympe has gone into the local state apparatus trying to find vulnerabilities. She mentions a case and several murders that baffle the police. A murderer that seemingly appears at random, makes people into splatters and causes widespread property damage without any signs of entering any house. They simply seem to manifest there…
She gives you a list of cops that are likely to look the other way if paid enough, aside from one cop she thinks she can have as an unknowing insider in less than a week if she's allowed to keep feeding their ego. She says they are a total piece of trash but really useful.
Well, that's it.
What to do now?
Select a task to focus on for the immediate future.
[ ] Investigate the scrapyard
[ ] Look for the smuggler tunnels in the sewers
[ ] Sneak directly into the Rhine Labs base, pierce through the lockdown
[ ] Write-in
What will your allies be doing for now? The members of your task force will continue doing what they are already doing if you don't order them to do something else.
[ ] (TASKFORCE MEMBER) Write-in
And it's back.
Some Limbus Arknights identities while you're at it. I have no idea how to do offensive values anymore so I'll just mark it as if it still had the 40 level cap.
@DuoRogue
Some Limbus Arknights identities while you're at it. I have no idea how to do offensive values anymore so I'll just mark it as if it still had the 40 level cap.
@DuoRogue
Crimson Troupe Singer
Faust 00 Identity
Base Speed: 4-7
Base HP: 165
Stagger Thresholds: 133, 57
Defense: 40
Combat Passive: Sigil of Tragodia
Pride Own. (x4)
Inflict 1 Rupture Count to enemies afflicted by Tremor Burst.
Support Passive: Art
Pride Own. (x3)
All allies that do not have SP at maximum apply +1 Rupture Count with their skills.
Skill 1: Melody (Pierce/Gloom)
Base: 10
Coin: -2 (x2)
Offense: 39
On Clash Win: Lose 15 SP
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor and 4 Rupture
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 2 Tremor Count
Skill 2: Performance (Blunt/Wrath)
Base: 16
Coin: -2 (x4)
Offense: 41
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor
On Hit [Coin II]: Burst Tremor, lose 5 SP
On Hit [Coin III]: Burst Tremor, lose 6 SP
On Hit [Coin IV]: Burst Tremor, lose 6 SP
Skill 3: Der Ring (Pierce/Pride)
Base: 21
Coin: -10 (x2)
Offense: 41
On Use: Lose 15 SP.
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor and 2 Rupture Count
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict Rupture equal to Tremor on the target, then remove 2 Rupture Count from them
Defense Skill: Sorrowful Aria (Counter/Pride)
Base: 12
Coin: -4 (x2)
Combat Start: Set own SP to 0
Faust 00 Identity
Base Speed: 4-7
Base HP: 165
Stagger Thresholds: 133, 57
Defense: 40
Combat Passive: Sigil of Tragodia
Pride Own. (x4)
Inflict 1 Rupture Count to enemies afflicted by Tremor Burst.
Support Passive: Art
Pride Own. (x3)
All allies that do not have SP at maximum apply +1 Rupture Count with their skills.
Skill 1: Melody (Pierce/Gloom)
Base: 10
Coin: -2 (x2)
Offense: 39
On Clash Win: Lose 15 SP
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor and 4 Rupture
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 2 Tremor Count
Skill 2: Performance (Blunt/Wrath)
Base: 16
Coin: -2 (x4)
Offense: 41
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor
On Hit [Coin II]: Burst Tremor, lose 5 SP
On Hit [Coin III]: Burst Tremor, lose 6 SP
On Hit [Coin IV]: Burst Tremor, lose 6 SP
Skill 3: Der Ring (Pierce/Pride)
Base: 21
Coin: -10 (x2)
Offense: 41
On Use: Lose 15 SP.
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 4 Tremor and 2 Rupture Count
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict Rupture equal to Tremor on the target, then remove 2 Rupture Count from them
Defense Skill: Sorrowful Aria (Counter/Pride)
Base: 12
Coin: -4 (x2)
Combat Start: Set own SP to 0
Crimson Troupe Mouthpiece
Outis 000 Identity
Base Speed: 4-8
Base HP: 194
Stagger Thresholds: 145
Defense: 43
Combat Passive: Twisted Every Way
Pride Res. (x5)
Every time an ally or enemy dies, gain a stack of Host's Attendant. Set the stacks to maximum when HP reaches 25% for the first time.
(Host's Attendant: Maximum of 10 stacks. For every stack, inflict 1 additional Sinking with Skill effects. At the start of each turn, all allies lose SP equal to current stack value if their SP is currently positive.)
Support Passive: All I Ask Of You
Pride Own. (x6)
At the start of the turn, all allies and enemies receive 6 SP damage and all enemies are inflicted with Tremor Burst.
Skill 1: Rehearsal (Slash/Gloom)
Base: 5
Coin: +3 (x2)
Offense: 43
On Use: Inflict 1 Sinking and 2 Sinking Count to the target
On Hit [Coin II]: Gain 1 Host's Attendant.
Skill 2: Theatrics (Blunt/Wrath)
Base: 13
Coin: +1 (x2)
Offense: 40
On Use: Gain Offense Level equal to the current amount of Host's Attendant.
On Heads Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 1 Sinking and 3 Tremor.
On Heads Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 2 Sinking Count and 1 Tremor Count. Spend 1 Host's Attendant to recycle this coin once, but swal the Tremor Count and Sinking Count values
Skill 3: Grand Announcement (Pierce/Pride)
Base: 6
Coin: +4 (x3)
Offense: 41
If there are 4 or more stacks of Host's Attendant, this skill becomes AoE (Targets slots equal to half of Host's Attendant stacks, rounded up.)
On Use: Inflict 1 Sinking and 2 Sinking Count to each target
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 3 Sinking Count
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 1 Sinking, inflict Tremor equal to Sinking on enemy
On Hit [Coin III]: Burst Tremor a number of times equal to half the amount of Host's Attendant stacks on self (rounded up) and consume all stacks
Defense Skill: The Preparations Behind Scenes (Block/Envy)
Base: 12
Coin: +4 (x1)
Offense: 40
Combat Start: Inflict 1 Sinking to all enemies and gain a stack of Host's Attendant.
Outis 000 Identity
Base Speed: 4-8
Base HP: 194
Stagger Thresholds: 145
Defense: 43
Combat Passive: Twisted Every Way
Pride Res. (x5)
Every time an ally or enemy dies, gain a stack of Host's Attendant. Set the stacks to maximum when HP reaches 25% for the first time.
(Host's Attendant: Maximum of 10 stacks. For every stack, inflict 1 additional Sinking with Skill effects. At the start of each turn, all allies lose SP equal to current stack value if their SP is currently positive.)
Support Passive: All I Ask Of You
Pride Own. (x6)
At the start of the turn, all allies and enemies receive 6 SP damage and all enemies are inflicted with Tremor Burst.
Skill 1: Rehearsal (Slash/Gloom)
Base: 5
Coin: +3 (x2)
Offense: 43
On Use: Inflict 1 Sinking and 2 Sinking Count to the target
On Hit [Coin II]: Gain 1 Host's Attendant.
Skill 2: Theatrics (Blunt/Wrath)
Base: 13
Coin: +1 (x2)
Offense: 40
On Use: Gain Offense Level equal to the current amount of Host's Attendant.
On Heads Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 1 Sinking and 3 Tremor.
On Heads Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 2 Sinking Count and 1 Tremor Count. Spend 1 Host's Attendant to recycle this coin once, but swal the Tremor Count and Sinking Count values
Skill 3: Grand Announcement (Pierce/Pride)
Base: 6
Coin: +4 (x3)
Offense: 41
If there are 4 or more stacks of Host's Attendant, this skill becomes AoE (Targets slots equal to half of Host's Attendant stacks, rounded up.)
On Use: Inflict 1 Sinking and 2 Sinking Count to each target
On Hit [Coin I]: Inflict 3 Sinking Count
On Hit [Coin II]: Inflict 1 Sinking, inflict Tremor equal to Sinking on enemy
On Hit [Coin III]: Burst Tremor a number of times equal to half the amount of Host's Attendant stacks on self (rounded up) and consume all stacks
Defense Skill: The Preparations Behind Scenes (Block/Envy)
Base: 12
Coin: +4 (x1)
Offense: 40
Combat Start: Inflict 1 Sinking to all enemies and gain a stack of Host's Attendant.
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- Location
- New Carollton, Maryland
Always angry around who?