[X] Try Diplomacy
[X] Use the Outlined Arguments, to the extent that Dorian finds them reasonable
---
A Somber Discovery
Dorian's Contamination simmered inside of him and came out of a hand to strike the door.
It wavered and shifted between thousands of forms in an instant, the force of pure unadulterated change transforming it from door to window, and from a window to a vast cavernous opening, a chaotic rupture in the metal wall. He closed shut the cauldron of distortion inside, allowing it to restore its contents as he stepped forward, Linneas a couple of footsteps after him, an unconscious Japhris set down in a chair in the room behind them.
The corridor outside was completely unpowered. Lights disabled, shutters pulled down over the windows, as if expecting heavy-duty combat. A dim crimson light blinked across the corridor from the area power controller on the far wall, briefly outlining who stood over there.
His Icarelian's mask glowed, casting forward a faint cone of light to illuminate the figures.
Lieutenant Carrasco was ahead of him, a saber in one hand. Her red hair was undone, the efficient ponytail replaced with a waterfall of crimson. Her normally firm and unsatisfied face was stretched into a smile, full of mirth. She'd divested herself of the armor, save a ceramic breastplate as white and seamless as an egg. The monstrosity within her eye was active, writhing, and Dorian could now observe its effects on her biology: her iris was stained yellow, flecks of gold across its original pure light blue.
Behind her stood a team of unarmed soldiers. Half-armored, gauntlets missing, showing arms thickly covered in sigils of carved red. No one had a rifle or even a sidearm, but Dorian noticed knives on various straps and in sheaths. He examined each soldier carefully and noted abnormalities within their physiology, marks of difference from a standard human baseline. They stood too far to make out the details, and Dorian's confusion and concern made it too difficult to muster the curiosity to request more data.
The Lieutenant continued to smile at him glibly. "Your Majesty."
"Lieutenant," he greeted back lukewarmly, disturbed by the casual and happy demeanor. "You authorized all of this?"
"Yes," she concurred. "Your craftsmanship has my compliments." A mystifying statement; one he chose not to linger on.
"Fortunately, I've dealt with the issue at hand. There is no need for an intervention, I am not intent on fighting or going back on our deal. I'll craft a new mask as well, and we'll resume standard Burgeoning activities on short notice. I am sorry to have disturbed your rest, Lieutenant."
She allowed him to finish the statement before replying with a smirk, "It won't be needed."
"Explain," he demanded of the Lieutenant, a hand moving to his saber's sheath.
She chuckled shortly. "I'd like a way off this overly lively rock, and you're my ticket." She wore a glad expression, voice soft and relieved, as if sincerely thankful. Like Dorian was a savior destined to lead her on an exodus from slavery and towards freedom.
He asked the earbuds. 'Veronica. Her soldiers are dear to her. But nothing's dearer than duty.'
She continued on, entirely unprompted, "What fortune, to see a Streetwalker in my short lifetime. I must've earned a blessing from the above with my actions." A laugh bubbled out of her, uncharacteristically girlish. "I was confused to start with. I never believed your story - it smelled too much like a well-improvised fib. Still, the Street? I never imagined that. I simply believed you were some maniac who'd collected relics and lucked out. Turns out I was entirely off the mark. You have my apologies."
His eyes narrowed. "You make it sound as if you knew about the Street before I came here."
"Of course I did," she chirped, as the creature inside her eye writhed. She winked with the yellowed eye. "My friend told me about it long ago. I'm surprised you never asked. But I suppose that simply shows your discretion and wisdom, doesn't it? You understand not to disturb others like yourself; that we're all bigger fish in a vast pond."
"Others like myself?" He didn't understand that sentiment at all. "What exactly is that friend of yours?"
Now she seemed confused. Even the soldiers behind her shifted, as if honestly not expecting this development.
Her voice revealed surprise. "You've never met him?"
He analyzed the eye-monster once again, more carefully, putting in a modicum of effort. Alarm fueling its activity, Viscerality was forthcoming with answers.
Almost a tapeworm, as shapes went; it coiled itself around the eyeball and extruded a cord to Veronica's brain, a yellow nerve that captured and returned information. That nerve had spread throughout her cerebral cortex, almost like roots in soil. Her eye was slightly stained, and jaundiced as a result of the chemicals it secreted, but now its sight had clarified. He noticed, with a prod, that Visceral influence on her was unusually difficult to enact, more so than with most of the beings he'd encountered. It seemed that its impulses were interfering with any he tried to send. He wasn't sure if this was the case earlier, but he didn't think so. An adaptation meant to counter him specifically?
It didn't produce any answers, though, aside from confirming that Dorian had no clue as to what this creature was.
"No."
"Oh." Quick disappointment showed in her eyes, but she recovered, lips set into a frown. "Well, it doesn't matter, although it does make explaining it harder. Yes, I do know about the Street. Ever since my friend arrived, I've learned from him about how the world truly works. I could teach you some things as well."
He considered the situation.
"I don't know if that's workable for me, quite frankly," he answered, shaking his head. "I'd like to stay here a little longer to make the best use of Orbital Command's resources and our contract. Afterward, we could discuss this arrangement ourselves in more detail."
"Oh, you don't understand, I think." She cocked a head to the side, assessing him carefully, as if to determine what to say. "You've disturbed the hornet's nest. The Forest is a domain of wilderness - an almost literal manifestation of the principle of prey and predator, how all living things grasp desperately for all the advantages they can seize - and you've dared to encroach on its territory, to become a competitor to its hegemony. The nature of the world recognizes a power struggle within itself. There'll be a reckoning. It'll be soon - very soon, I imagine - and I very much intend not to be here when it finally drops. That's why I prodded one of my men into getting Japhris to visit you."
He frowned. This whole debacle was her fault, then? The Fixation likely wasn't anyone's blame. Tonight's incident, though - she must've predicted his reaction ahead of time and used that to trigger chaos as a cover-up, a way to feed lies to her superiors, and to shield herself in case this didn't work out at all.
"I'll need more than that if I am to make an informed decision."
It happened in an instant, as if a lever were flipped.
Her cheerful demeanor disappeared without hesitation, like a mask removed after a long day of hard work, at last, to reveal the truth.
Her face was now a cold and calculating mien, as emotional as a stone wall.
"When you came here, I was under the impression we'd had a professional agreement not to disturb each other. I knew you were a Visceralist, and you knew about my friend, so I believed your lack of direct interaction meant we'd ignore one another. Like two ships passing by each other in the night, to their appointed ports. I even allowed you to keep that slip of an elf and did not induct her into my family, as a gesture of good faith." She shook her head in disappointment. "What a calamitous error that proved to be."
"And so you want to leave Taure."
"Of course. But I am not at all unreasonable, you'll find," she answered with a shake of the head, smiling lightly. "Despite my friend's avaricious need to access it, I know the Street won't accept me outright as his carrier, so I have an offer to make." He concealed a need to bristle. Her statement about the Street suggested a knowledge of its preferences and workings. Unless, of course, her statement was a bluff. However, Dorian couldn't imagine a reason for her to reduce her own chances of escape. Her intention seemed honest, at least - why else bother with this charade? It'd be insane without proper cause, which meant she was likely at least truthful about the reckoning.
"Tell me," he said.
"You'll leave now, and I'll hand you a powerful relic that can summon me and my friends here to another world. You'll trigger it on that world, and we'll have the doctor along with us. We'll hold him here until you've fulfilled your end of the bargain."
"How do I know you aren't lying?"
"About the doctor? Well, even if I am, once we're gone, he'll have no one to restrain him," she replied with a shrug. "A man as powerful as him can surely escape and return to the Street on his own. Then, if you are both in some kind of traveler's alignment, you'll most certainly cross paths again."
"Final question," he said. "Why should I work with you? You said we're the same, but I don't think that's true at all."
She offered him an innocent look. "You don't? What about your Viscerality?"
The words cut into him, even undetailed.
"I think I have a fairly accurate read on you," Veronica answered with the same smile, sidling up closer - almost a footstep away from a saber's reach. "You don't care about revolutions and freedoms, not on a societal level. That's only the mask you wear, same as I wore the mask of a lieutenant. Not that I can blame you. This world and every other world don't want revolutions either. What you want is power enough to matter, power enough to never be weak and defenseless again, so easily deprived of what you care about. What an understandable, sincere, and honest motive! How can anyone blame you for such a desire?"
As if stoking Viscerality, that final word triggered the implants inside him into overdrive - made him realize with an onrushing torrent of emotion that her soliloquy was true and meaningful, at least to some extent. His moral core shuddered at the idea of abandoning the quest for revolution, usually, but Dorian wondered if that wasn't a simple matter of going with the flow of events. His conscience was certainly quiet when negotiating with the Warlord, and not necessarily because Earth wasn't Drethir.
"I wonder: did the Street not know that I am here in Oasis, or did it put you here so we'd meet?" she asked, with what sounded like sincere curiosity. She then dismissed the idea with a shake of the head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I've much to offer you: relics, knowledge, and more. You failed to exploit Taure properly, Dorian. You went too fast, you didn't understand the nature of the task the Street set down in front of you. Greed does not bring rewards. But I can teach you the proper discernment. I've been stuck in this world my entire life, with the tools to exploit all the worlds that exist. I could teach you: even some fraction of what I know should put you well ahead."
Her smile broadened.
"What do you say?"
---
[ ] Fight
*Based on Visceral readings: each of her soldiers is your direct physical match, although that doesn't account for Linneas' support.
*Veronica's reading is more inconclusive: she seems mighty but in a manner that's difficult to detect. This will most likely be a tough fight.
*Assuming you believe her about Taure's impending reckoning and win the fight, you'll be able to flee doom alongside Andrei or else aid the government in stopping the apocalypse. Afterward, you can continue your contract... and you might even be able to argue from a better position.
[ ] Agree
*Assuming she's truthful about her deal, you'll acquire lots of high-quality information on how to make the most of the Street.
*Commits you to leave Dr. Musorov behind and maybe get him back later.
*You're able to tell lies of an almost supernal quality, so you can always simply agree and then summon her and her men to an ambush site and hope she didn't stiff you. Then again, she's likely expecting something like this.
