Urban Plague – like all things, there's a rating and grading to Requests. You start from Canard, shit so trivial that it's not even worth pointing, then you go off into Urban Myth, where it's still trivial-as-fuck-shit but at least it's now worth of substance, barely worth a glance – this is where someone of your Grade would stop at. Up a step, and you get to the Urban Legend, where shit gets real, where it affects people; cases noted and confirmed by the Associations themselves. Another, you finally get to the Urban Plague, and they're where trivial shit stops being so trivial – full eyes and focus. It's where the Associations go all out, where Fixers like the Scarecrows get hired full – not just Mao, but also Mori, and Burke, and maybe even Boss Daniel.
Notice how you don't fucking include yourself and Kai?
Because you might be stupid, but you don't got a fucking death wish – because you know that this shit's way above you. If you're already struggling against an Urban Myth, imagine going up against the Urban Plague. You know this. And Kai's facing an Urban Nightmare, even if she got a bunch of High Grade Fixers coming alongside her. You know that. Smart thing to do would be stayin' put, to take on jobs that are more your level, keep your head down, and –
No. Fuck off.
Point is, you can't. Yeah, that's your fucking point – you can't, and you won't. Backing off, cowarding out, running away, letting all of them do the hard liftin', while Kai's doing all sorts of shit while you're here twiddlin' with your thumbs hopin' that all of them come back safely – fuck, you'd look and sound like that one pussy character from that shitty-fake Red Mist movie you watched that one time.
And you'd sooner die before you do that.
[Insight Check: Trivial. Autopass.]
You never actually claimed to be smart.
[Ego Check: Medium. Pass.]
This is where you started, the first chapter where your life truly began – Mao, the Vice-Captain of Scarecrow Office, the annoying yet somehow dependable woman who first guided you through the steps of this field, and Sun, your First Client, the woman you've come to grow close to through the past few weeks since you met, and Moon and the Vic's Office, your First obstacle and stepping stone, where you risked your life for something beyond just you. It's only right for you to be the one closing the chapter.
[Empathy Check: Hard. Pass]
Sun. You didn't just grow close to her, did you? You cared for her. You can't deny it anymore – you truly do not want her hurt. Compared to hers, your life is somewhat, and also depressingly factual, less valuable. And Mao… God, she's fucking annoying, but she's also powerful, you know that even if you haven't actually seen her in action. She's got to be. And she should be fine without you. But… one of her, and at least seven of them – even if six of them are low-grade Fixers, it's not a favorable odd. She knows it too, if she had to pull out that 'health insurance' suitcase. And you might be a dead fucking weight in the end, but –
[Endurance Check: Easy. Autopass.]
But even a dead weight can take a hit or two. And sister, you're a Wall of a Dead Weight.
[Melee Check: Easy. Autopass.]
Not that you're a fucking dead weight.
It's always straight up
interesting when it feels like the update preamble is a response to the discussion directly prior; Lily is her own person with strongly defined priorities that are different from ours, but it's just, nice when the thread conversation was hitting on the right beats to be represented as support/contrast to Lily's internal decision making.
No but for real the way Lily's constantly thinking about her friends through this and reluctantly admitting that she wants to look out for them to the best of her ability–
[Vision Check: Medium. Pass.]
When Landlord Lin asked you back then, you couldn't answer him. But in the short few weeks, you did change. If there's one good thing about the past, it's this: that you ain't some scum shit desperately scurrying and scrounging like a filthy rat no more.
You're not doing this just for money. Well, that's a fucking lie – you're also doing this for money, but if it's just that, then you would have backed off like a pussy. No, you're also doing this for yourself. Lin would fucking shit himself.
Still, he's right about that one thing – that this – pride, mercy, and kindness, and so much more – is the privilege of the truly powerful. And you are still just a measly Ninth Grade Fixer, but – it's about time you prove those Nest bitches looking down on you from their high-rise apartments wrong.
–And that it keeps coming up that more than anything, Lily wants to be strong enough to earn the right to, give a shit? About anything? That the City turns this into the privilege of strength, but also makes sure to poison and corrode that sort of belief at any turn so no one has a heart if they want to live without suffering, it's such, damn good thematic work.
This is the stuff that makes me want to clap Lily and Lin's skulls together, because it's arguably the clearest sign of him actually wanting to look out for Lily that Lin serves up all this bullshit about only power giving you the right (safety) to act on respect and compassion, and how all that shaped Lily into someone who wants to be strong just so she can feel however she feels without burying it under thug life bravado, top shelf storytelling.
You exhale, then tense up just as quickly. Of course, that's a fucking nice thought and all, but it doesn't change the fact that you're still way in over yourself, and with what laughable amount – hah, 'laughable' amount! Imagine thinking that a few weeks ago – of Ahn you got in your wallet, you need to find something – a leg-up against what you're about to face tonight. So you're here, back in the familiar old and some unfamiliar new rows and columns of shops lining the sides of the Market Streets.
People wander about, pockets of 'em, wearin' Fixer outfits, and wearing non-Fixer outfits. You know that look in their eyes, of purpose and of focus, and you reckon that you got a similar look in your eyes. Mao's words ring out back to you. Something's about to happen – no, something is already happening, and it's about to tip over. The Middle and Syndicates being destroyed by someone, leaving behind vacuums that even you can't miss – the Distortions cropping up left and right. The local Hana Association Section IV apparently having most of its number recently decimated, leaving only a couple behind, and the captain of that local Office, Ran, the one who tested you, is currently on a warpath against the Loud Orchestra – and Hana doesn't normally do that, do they?
"Soooo what're you looking for?"
You flinch, turning your glare to Mao. "I don't remember fucking inviting you."
Mao's lips stretch wide, amber-gold eyes narrowing. "Luckily, you don't have to invite me," she replies, smug as shit. "'Sides, we still have time 'fore we gotta move – and I'd be a poor senior if I don't help my junior out, wouldn't I?"
Your glare doubles, before promptly grumbling, looking back to the road, shoving your hands deep into your pockets. "You're fucking impossible."
"You know me well," Mao sing-songs, chuckling, and you grunt, flinching as a familiar weight – her weight – falls onto you, her arm rounded around your shoulders. "So come on, tiger," she smiles, curved amber-gold eyes inches away from you. "Help me help you, hm? Whatcha' lookin' for?"
"Fuck off," you grumble, trying to shrug her off, but you know already it's a futile effort. At least you could say that you tried. Sighing, you growl under your breath, shoving your hands even deeper in, nails scratching at the seams of your pockets.
Things that we've learned! Taking Mao shopping is annoying and involuntary.
Also Lily is putting more and more awareness into how the City is building up to something, I've used this analogy before, like an animal smelling rain before a thunderstorm. The real difference, is that humans keep building up systems they can't extract themselves fast enough to get away before the lightning.
[Instinct Check: Trivial. Autopass.]
Blood and iron and old papers. And that bitter scent of the Office. You're so used to it by now that you barely register it, but they're still there, lingering with Mao, ever-present – it's her signal.
[Melee Check: Easy. Pass.]
Nothing bad with a little blood.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
Iron's good for your body – not that you need it.
The way Lily leans on her
Fortitude not to get put off by Mao's vibe, sure, it's easy, but, ah, I'll get into it for the next bit.
[Ego Check: Hard. Pass.]
This is a good practice, is what it is, for when you'll start carrying her for real.
[Ego Check: Very Hard. Fail.]
It's still annoying.
It is so, so very fascinating, when we see moments of back to back success/fail with skill checks, because it always says something very implicit about what the skill was
actually meant to accomplish in the moment.
Like, the fact
Ego succeeding led to Lily acknowledging Mao's playful burdening is preparation for when she'll actually need Lily to lean on, but it's failure is having that called annoying still; it asks you, what does that mean about what
Ego/the slice of Lily it represents wants? Is it to be someone who can handle Mao's weight without complaint? To be less bothered with friendly contact from someone you tolerate? Honesty, that Lily doesn't-or-doesn't-want-to find it annoying?
These questions keep coming up through what we learn from failure, and that's the
real dash of flavor these rolls add to the narrative. Truly would love to be a fly on the wall of the decision making process for when and how many rolls are given to a sequence, there are plenty of long stretches of narrative that don't get rolls at all, before a singular blip of a thought that crunches on seven billion stats at once. Is it just going with your gut on what internal conflicts would push Lily to applying her burgeoning ideology against Soothing? A method of spicing up scenes that could use a hook to massage their flow?
Brushing off the creepin' heat, you start mumbling. "M'need a leg-up – somethin' ta make me hit harder," you tell her, chewing the inside of your cheeks. You trail off a bit, fidgetin' quietly. "It don't gotta be, but also something that don't stick permanently, and nothin' too complicated."
Mao hums thoughtfully. If she had a thought about what you said, she thankfully said nothing of it – then she smirks at you, cheekily. "Could always get a gun."
You blink, once, twice, feeling a reflexive shudder of revulsion coursing through your flesh, quickly replaced with disbelief. You stare at her, wide eyed. "Fucking what? Fuck off."
"What?" Mao looks 'offended'. "I'm serious."
You scoff. "Right – and I've got money to waste," Mao snorts at that, lips twitching. "And even then, I don't even know how to shoot a damn gun."
[Ranged: Auto Fail.]
Hello, is anybody home? No? Well, okay then.
[Gadgetry: Auto Fail.]
Nobody's here too.
That seems to get a chuckle out of Mao. You grunt as her hand starts ruffling up your hair – it feels surprisingly large. "Tiger, you don't have to know how to shoot a gun to shoot a gun – that's the entire point of a gun."
"Keep sayin' that when I accidentally shot your back."
"Oh?" Mao leans in closer to you, her grin wide, ear to ear, eyes almost closing, golden-amber seeming to glow. "Wanna bet?"
You squint your eyes at her. "No."
"Darn," Mao pouts, clicking her tongue, before snorting with a chuckle, and the glow fades away.
Prudence is dying.
My lungs are as well from how fucking hysterical Gun Cat getting stuck with Bludgeon Tiger is.
Also damn Mao literally has that fucked up eye glow cats get doesn't she.
She leans away from you – but not off you, taking a more casual stance, humming thoughtfully. "But in that case, then just shoot it close at fist range," she smirks, amber-gold crinkling in amusement. "That's what I did."
[Melee Check: Easy. Pass]
O-oh?
The skill is being seduced by the senpai. Why.
You scrunch up your nose – you know what, you're not going to even bother. Grumbling, you hunch over slightly, and you realize a little too late that it only makes Mao's perch on you more comfortable. Damn it. She shoots you a smug look. Damn it. "Then what's the damn point of having a gun?"
Smiling a bird-eating cat smile, Mao lounges over you, humming. "'Cause guns are cool," grinning, she idly pats at the huge-ass blocky-ass rifle slung 'round her shoulders – same rifle that has also been the cause for the glances, as well as the berth that you've been getting. It is intimidating. "And guns are powerful, Lily," Mao continues, whispering into your ear, and you jump, glaring at her. She shoots you a quick smirk, before shooting her gaze to the crowd. "There's a lotta assholes out there that talked a lot of shit about the usefulness of a gun, but those people are just fucking idiots, too scared that they could die before they even realize it," she mutters, smiling mockingly and menacingly at the crowd. "Not everybody can punch a hole into a thick slab of steel, and not everybody can take that damage – when it comes down to it, it's hard to live after you got a huge hole in your chest. Guns let you do that damage."
[Instinct Check: Hard. Pass.]
Amber-gold eyes locked on with a pair of pale greens – on her hands, a rifle aimed forward, finger on the trigger, ready to fire, and in his hands, a twin pair of blades. Even though they were meters away, even though she should be the one having the advantage, it was the other way 'round, and by the smile on his lips, he knew it.
"How about you give up, dearie?" the man drawls out, his stance laxed, yet ready. "No need for this to end in a bloodshed, eh?"
Despite everything up against her, the woman manages a smile. "Says you."
And just like that, she pulls the trigger, and him, expecting that, lunges forth, blades ready to block – but the bullet never comes. A spark of amber gold lights up the air. His eyes widen in surprise, in incomprehension, and then his head becomes a burst of red flesh, and white skull. His lunging body falls to the ground, sliding forward, blades clattering as it barely reaches the tips of her boots.
A glint in the dark – the emblem badge of a scarecrow.
Mao.
[Endurance Check: Easy. Pass.]
Weird question: can you take a gunshot?
[Endurance Check: Hard. Pass.]
That's the wrong question, sister. It should be: can a gunshot take you? The answer is no. It can't.
Everything about this is cool and especially the way Mao's imparting this genuine wisdom to the kind of freak that's built to eat it.
"… I recall Ran easily deflectin' a gunshot," you muse aloud – yeah, that pair of Nest Dwellers. You don't even remember their name. Mao raises an eyebrow. Right, she wouldn't know. "One of the applicants brought in a gun – he's the only one who couldn't hit her."
Mao looks like she's about to laugh. "Well, no shit. Don't use our Local Hana Captain as a point of comparison, Lily, or you're gonna get a real hard headache real fast. You need more than just a gun to deal with her, and 'course, you can't just casually stroll your way through the Grades with just a gun alone. Or any weapon, for that matter. You need skills, Lily. You need an attitude – the right attitude. All good Fixers do."
"And you got them, I'm guessing," you reply, rolling your eyes, snorting.
Mao raises an eyebrow. "What you think?"
She is the Fifth Grade Fixer between the two of you, so it's obvious she got things going and working. But like hell you're gonna say that to her face. So instead you grumble under your breath.
Mao chuckles, eyes crinkling. "And personally, and I've said it before, you got them too."
You flinch, feeling very ickily warm. Ugh. "Whatever," you grumble. "It's not for me – I can't even afford it even if it is," you remind her, and Mao hums, and you don't particularly dig the look she's giving you.
Mao keeps trying to infest Lily with feelings and shit, and it's funnier that Lily can't stand to admit it's working. And once again it's establish that optimal builds are fake and doing things with the right attitude and sense of purpose is gonna get you farther in the City than anything else.
One of these days though, Lily's gonna have to watch out for like, a Crowbar-Gun or some shit. The senior who likes to give presents and the junior who can't stand unsettled debts is a potent combo.
"Also," you move on, furrowing your eyebrows together. You've already noticed it, of course, but… "Stop calling me 'tiger'."
"What, don't like it?"
You open your mouth, and then closes it. It's better than a lot of things – and tiger's supposed to be fierce, ain't they? "… Just call me Lily."
Mao sighs deeply. "You're a very difficult girl to please, Lily – you need a nickname. It's important."
"Like hell I do."
"Come on, it's just a nickname."
Aha. "So it is just a nickname."
Mao nods wistfully. "That's right, it's just a nickname, so you shouldn't mind it that much."
[Ego Check: Hard. Pass.]
You don't, actually, you know, mind that much.
Shit, she got you there. You look away from her, lowering your head slightly. "Fuck off. I thought you're here to help me out?"
Mao chuckles, smiling, and you grimace as she tousles your hair again. You're not enjoying this, fuck off. "And I got a few places in mind," you perk up. Finally. The corner of her lips twitches. "Tiger."
You glower at her.
This is soooooooooooooo.
Also again and again Lily has to fight against the weight of society just to accept casual intimacy, and
Ego is
Lily's Mao's strongest soldier for senpai simping to win.
"Mhm," the man behind the counter hums, a bored look in his sleepy eyes as he inspects you from tip to top. You keep still from bristling – the smell of grass and flowers and medicines permeate the room, itching and scratching at your nose. Behind you, Mao inspects one of the locked-up windowed shelves. "With that much money, for what you're looking for, then we have this for you," and at that, the receptionist of Beanstalk Workshop-slash-Pharmacy pulls out a flat tin box the size of your palm. He opens it, and inside, held in position by a foam, a golden pill the size the tip of your pinkie. Etched on the surface, the number 7.
You lean towards it, and the man slides the tin box away. You glare, annoyed, before grumbling at his returning look. "What does it do, and how much does it cost?"
He smiles, for the first time, attention completely focused on the pill. "We call this seed the 'Seven Minutes of Heaven, Seven Hours of Purgatory, and Seven Days of Hell'. Once you consume it, the seed will hatch and germinate – you'll go through seven minutes of power, tripling your strength," he explains. "And after that, seven hours of nothing, for the seed to grow, to prepare for the following seven days of pain, where the seed shall bloom," the man opens his closed fist, forming what you think is the shape of a flower with his fingers. He pauses, taking a breath. "It will cost you seven-hundred-seventy-seven-thousand-seven-hundred-seventy-seven per seed."
It takes a moment to count how many sevens there are: six sevens. At least it's not seven sevens. But – you pause, eyeing him flatly. "Really."
He grins, dead eyes gaining a life of their own. "The symbolism is far more important than the pricing – and if I had any say on it, I would have given it an extra seven. Alas," he shrugs, expression pinched. "We have to feed ourselves too."
You snort. You don't say anything, but by the way the man narrows his eyes, you don't really need to. But… seven minutes might not sound much, but seven minutes are more than enough to weigh the balance of life and death into your favor. You glance back quietly to Mao – she's the one who led you here, and you trust her, and if she hasn't said anything, then you doubt you're being tricked either.
But that much money – sure, you'll get it back later, and it doesn't really matter if you're gonna die anyway, but that's still a lot, isn't it, for seven minutes – and then the following seven days of backlash? "… I'm gonna have to think about it."
The man shrugs, closing the tin-box. "We'll be here."
...This is some Xianxia bullshit alright. Also definitely the kind of thing that's best used for a week that you
don't have two jobs, which means, well, not this one.
Stupidly funny that Lily's "Damn it least it wasn't 7 digits" was immediately followed by the shop dude's "Bro I
wish we could've made it 7 digits, it's not even that I want that much cash, I'm just really passionate about Numerology Botany" tho.
You stare at the blue glove in front of you with wide eyes. It's scuffed, looking like it's gone through hell and back, with pockmarks and stitches that wouldn't be out of place together with your uniform. But the logo on it is undeniable as it is recognizable: a blue zig-zagging arrow, cut horizontally by another logo. It's the W Corp. Symbol, and around that symbol, a trio of arrows, the symbol of this very workshop: Salvage Workshop.
"How the shit is this even allowed?"
Standing behind you, her head peeking over your shoulders, you catch Mao nod. "Gotta agree with my junior here, big guy."
Said 'big guy' grunts, grimacing. "Lots and lots and lots of work and negotiation, that's how – it being an outdated model also helped," he mutters. You turn to him. Cap over his balding head, and yellow-green vest covered in stains. He looks haggard. "Also enough modification to make it legally distinct. But yes, it's very legal," he grunts. "And it works – though how it does, you gotta figure it out yourself. Part of the fun, eh?" he asks, crooked, before shrugging at your look. He snorts. "In any case, if you're looking for something that'll make you hit hard, and at that price, then this is it. One mil."
"… I would have figured this would cost a lot more," Mao muses a loud, and you tense at the blade in her voice. "Even scuffed as it is, it's still a Wing product, no?"
The man grunts, grimacing. "Like I said, it's a really outdated model, and I worked on it a long time ago, and it's been sitting in shop for a while now – that's why I'm selling it at cheap price," another pause, before he lowers his head with a grumble: "It can also malfunction, thanks to the aforementioned shit, and the negotiations."
"Ah," you say, eyeing the glove tentatively. "Now that explains it. I gotta… think about it."
The man grunts.
"Good idea," Mao murmurs.
Mao: My girl here would have to be really stupid to go for this but just from scout's honor you should know people will die if it fucks her over.
You stare at the beating, pulsating thing in front of you. You don't even know where to begin. "What the fuck is that?"
Behind you, Mao lets out a whistle. "Damn, is that what I think it is?"
Baby Fixer Reaction vs Middle Aged Fixer Reaction.
Your gag reflex is the first thing this job will take from you.
The man behind the table smiles wide, purring, teeth – fangs glinting white. From head to toe, white fur grows from his body, glossy and silky looking as they reflect off the light; a tuft of white forming a scarf around his neck. There's a patch of golden fur over his animalistic face, whiskers growing from either side of his cheeks. And then, on top of his black and white-streaked hair, a pair of large and equally fluffy-looking triangular ears. Instead of white, his eyes are dark blue, interrupted by a needle-like pair of black pupils.
The man, as you decide to call him, wears an open lab-coat far larger than his comparatively small body, practically engulfing him in entirety, and in contrast to all of that, he wears a normal plain blue tee-shirt, and a pair of shorts – and hidden behind the counter, you see a tail twisted around his leg. It takes you a moment, stepping back a bit as you inspect the man before you, himself puffing his chest out, grinning, that you finally realize what it is you're seeing. You've seen something like this before, back that one time you visited that bar with Mao, but those were only ears, and not to this extent. Half-cat, half-man. Before you is Doctor Nyorau, Master of the Nyorau Workshop, and the expert, as Mao puts it, in 'fusion-slash-hybridization' augmentation.
You are currently, thanks to Mao's suggestion, in the Nyorau Workshop, an Augmentation Workshop owned by the very Nyorau that you're currently facing. Immediately, you're already regretting this.
Catgirl Hormone Emporium.
God Lily you let a girl call you Tiger and then immediately you're on the fast track to a flesh symbiosis fursuit what is your life.
"You nyow it, Myao," the man purrs, grinning maniacally, stretching ear to ear. "It's a piece of a creature from benyand the City – it's a piece of a monster. I was able to get it from a nyanventurous friend of myan – isn't it fanyastic? Even though they assured me that it's dead as dead could be, it's still beating. But it is dead, else the Head would have destroyed the entire streets down, nya."
You try not to stare too long at the man. Instead, you stare at the… thing. It's still beating. Twitching. You don't know what it is. You can't really describe it. It just is. You feel a great headache. "… And you want to put this into me?"
"Nyas!" the catman vibrates, eyes sparkling, jumping – behind him, his tails goes stiff straight. "It's the next step, nyes! Imagine what sort of beast would you turn to be! I would have tested it on my own Fixers, or the Beast Office, but," he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, ears flopping, deflating as he pouts, disappointed. "They refused."
Beast Office? They seem familiar…
[Insight Check: Medium. Pass.]
They're those fixers with the ears, aren't they?
"Yeah," you growl, tearing your eyes away from the thing. It's giving you a headache. "I fuckin' wonder why."
"… What would it even do?" Mao asks, and you twitch at the interest in her voice.
You turn towards her with wide eyes. Her eyes lock with the thing with such intensity it's worrying. "Mao?"
Nyorau smirks knowingly. "I nyow you would be interested, Myao," he giggles. "But my friend told me that it reminds them of a dragon, nya," he muses, looking at the beating thing with wide sparkly eyes. "Dyagon! Imagine that. And it was really hard to kill, and one of people during the expeditions melted into screaming goop when it hits them."
Mao whistles. "And how much are you willing to sell this, doc?"
"Sell?!" Nyorau bristles, hissing, eyes narrowed. "I nyot selling this, Myao! I'm only willing to work this into you –" at that, he immediately grins: "For free, nya. All I want to see is what it'd do!"
Mao hums.
"I'm…" you start, closing your eyes. "I'm gonna have to think about this."
"… If my junior here's not willing to take it, I might take a look at it later."
You stare at Mao in horror.
Nyorau shrugs. "It'll only be here until somenyan's willing to be my vi – volunteer."
You eye the catman dubiously. "Probably never"
"Nyaa…" Nyorau deflates. "I nyoow."
MAO IS SUCH A FREAK.
SUCH AN ENTIRE FUCKING FREAK.
If I find people batting down the hatches for this because it's free, I won't be
disappointed, per se, but there will perhaps be Judging.
Not maniacs who just want to be a dragon for the thrill of it, of course, you people are my kin.
It'd be such a way to get
Warped and test drive
Twice-Beating Heart, though.
"Now we're talking," you mutter under your breath, eyeing the vest. "Finally. Something normal."
Mao smirks smugly.
"Wow," the woman behind the counter drawls. She wears black on black on black. Dark makeup, black hair, and equally black dress – on her back, a dozen of small, long arms sprout out. They twitch and swivel here and there, a pair of them elongating down to the ground, keepin' the woman from falling down. She's Lengan, of the Wayang Workshop, specializing in bionics products — whatever that is. Before you, is a neatly folded vest. Hanging on its corner is a price tag. Or at least, it should be. Its price slashed and scratched several times to the point that you can't read it. "Musta seen some shit. But well, this is what we got for something 'round your price range — it's a muscle vest. Connects automatically into your spine, and it'll help you flex and reorganize your muscles in shapes that you need. You want to hit hard, it'll get your muscles primed for hitting hard."
You hum.
"Gonna need to think about it."
The woman shrugs in boredom. "Knock yourself out," she shoots the vest with a bitter look. "Not that anyone's going to buy it soon."
I wonder if this is what the 50 got, or if the scenes are in exact order (which means by count it'd be, the 8, hm), it'd seem like the safest—Oh hang on, I think that'll be answered with this next scene.
"You fuckin' with me here?"
You don't turn to glare at her. You don't need to. Before you, displayed in a case, is a strange-looking mechanical glove, and on one side of the glove is the muzzle of what is undeniably a gun's.
"I thought we talked about this."
"We did," Mao agrees.
"… You really want me to accidentally shoot your back?"
Mao snorts, eyes crinkling, golden ambers twinkling in amusement. "You're really gonna have to try really hard to do that – isn't that right, Mander?"
Mander grunts back. White hair stained with oil; the proprietor of SilverSteel Workshop rolls her eyes. "Yeah. I configured it for short-range specifically – anything longer, and you won't hit anything," she sighs, shoulders hunching. "S'why it's not selling well. Dumb of me to think outside the box for once."
"C'mon, Mandy," Mao says, and you twitch at her soft tone. "I got someone in, don't I? I like your stuffs – 'specially the ones you get creative with."
The corner of Mander's lips twitches slightly. "Right," she murmurs, before shaking her head. "But she doesn't really look keen about it."
You shrug. "I don't think I can even afford this."
"But I can," Mao purrs. "I'll buy it for you. Consider it as my early celebration gift for your survival through the end of your first month on the job. Though," she shrugs. "You're gonna have to buy the bullets yourself."
"One-hundred-kay per pop," Mander mumbles. You stare at the… sad girl in disbelief. She shrugs back. "They're not cheap to make – and they can do damage," she tells you as her excuse. "Though you can load six of them in at once, and since you look new to this, the Head only allows you to carry double that for an outing."
[Melee Check: Easy. Pass.]
W-well, there's really no bad reason, is there? R-right?
[Endurance Check: Hard. Pass.]
It's not going to be cheap, sister, but you could finally see if you can take a gunshot.
You grimace, looking away from the gun. Would be a lie to say that you're not tempted. "… Gonna have to think about it."
But even as you said that you're already running out of time, and it's nearing lunch, and you should probably make your decision now if you don't want to get to the mission starving.
I don't even know what to say to this. I make a joke about Mechashift Gun-Crowbars and then we just get Ember Celica? Really?
This was a fun update, so I'm just gonna take ten to think of what I'm voting for.
