Reality TV
A soldier understood that fleeing was cowardice; an aristocrat understood that timidity was a mislaying of opportunity. A road not taken was a road abandoned forever, its potential cut off at parturition, as no road was the same once untrod for a time. Sloth was not, at its deep core, a desire to lounge and waste away time meaninglessly; it was a pathological fear of taking action, an incapability within one's limbs to actualize that which the mind could already chart.
Acclimatization was synonymous with an egregious waste of time. If one could act, to achieve some benefit or merit, one should - anything else was cowardice.
And Dorian Croft was not raised to be a coward.
Therefore, Dorian Croft chose to hurl a cinderblock through an electronics store window, to access the interior. The sound of shattering glass carried on through the empty streets, full of abandoned car wrecks and other miscellaneous destruction, but a momentary scan indicated that it didn't attract any of the Undead.
"No alarm," Scott said, with a breath of relief. "It would've drawn zombies from miles around for sure."
As soon as midnight fell, and once the survivors were fast asleep with only a minimal force standing watch, Scott and Dorian found a staff door at the back and made their way out of the hospital under the cover of darkness; avoiding functional streetlamps to aid their obfuscation. It seemed they were unnoticed, and therefore, had proceeded apace to break into an electronics store a couple of blocks down from the hospital; the hordes were thinner out here, on the northern side of town. It seemed there was a controller at least within the general area, giving standing orders for the zombies to congregate; a basic human-catching strategy, or so Scott had claimed.
Convincing Scott to cooperate hadn't been difficult; a simple demonstration of hemokinesis and disguise sufficed to assure him of Dorian's supernatural mask-based prowess. From there on, the young man was solidly and enthusiastically onboard with Dorian, finding the news of Daria's nature alarming.
After a private discussion, Dorian was disappointed to hear Scott's opinion that it was unlikely Daria was a Visceralist. A vampire Visceralist was a rare sight, as vampires didn't often trade the ability; acquiring it often had absurdly high costs associated with it, and it didn't seem as if Daria was either escaping a loan shark or serving a master. Even if she was, the odds of defeating her were slim. Even minor and inexperienced Visceralists would receive a strong burst of power if threatened, and if Daria felt as safe as Dorian postulated, it was likely she possessed some Visceral paranoia-based mutation or acute danger sense - Scott had opined, borrowing the Webweaver for strategizing.
"Your interests are strange," Scott stated, standing near the entrance, a greataxe made of black crust over one shoulder. He wore a simple dark hoodie, stained with zombie blood, as well as the Crimson Lost. "Why the obsession with Viscerality?"
"Who doesn't want free healing?" asked Dorian, raising and admiring a shard of television material: a liquid crystal display.
"The mask I'm wearing already does that," he answered blandly.
"Correction: who doesn't want free superpowers?"
"You're more driven than most, is what I'm saying."
"I am not a coward," answered Dorian softly, projecting Facelessness over the assembly. "I see an opportunity, so I take it."
"You're a bit reckless." For a moment, Scott was hesitant, as if fearing that a statement he's about to make could be misperceived. Dorian's attention was sharply on him, as Scott restarted with a slow shake of the head. "Where did you even come from, man? You refuse to say what country you're from, and every time I ask you about the masks, you find an excuse to talk about something else. You ask lots of questions out of the left field, too. It's fair enough to keep secrets, but you sure are a weird guy."
"You have superpowers, so don't complain," Dorian grouched.
"I'm not, am I?" His voice was full of mirth. Scott's slight smile could be detected, even with a mask covering up the face. "Just pointing out the oddity of the entire situation. Feels like I'm the victim in a scam, or some grand cosmic joke."
Actually, that seems to be me. Dorian didn't voice the thought.
After some half an hour of casual work, the mask was done: amateurish, but almost on purpose, meant to appear crude and unfinished, to better allow the potential of vision to seep in. The material of this miraculous television technology, repurposed solely towards divination with a single opaque lens that covered the entire face. The identity matrix was malformed for attempting to force the mask's spirit into conformity with the goal but sufficient to perform its role: he donned the mask and made himself see.
The Screentime displayed a cold ice-blue and magenta divide, then flickered into static, as Dorian viewed the road to Viscerality.
In a moment of supernal clarity, an overcharge caused by lingering Facelessness within the mask, Dorian observed the visage of a rotten and inhuman figure on a throne of stacked metal; a six-armed man dressed in a business suit, with a dessicated face showing skeletal teeth and empty eye sockets, skin stubbornly adhering to fleshless bone like dried parchment left unscraped from a desk. The vision carried lingering sentiments of action; a strict path through which to conduct the needed negotiations.
For a brief moment, Dorian stood rooted to the spot, astonished the Screentime held sufficient power to offer precise information of such invaluable utility; as a young mask, that was a rather impressive level of insight.
Still, the data itself was concerning.
He needed to converse with an Undead Warlord to earn Viscerality? Those often surrounded themselves with automated hordes and roving patrols of monsters; mutants beyond the standard template of a 'zombie' one commonly encountered anywhere around the world. Approaching the Warlord itself was surely an epic task, if he correctly understood the power of the average specimen. The odds of surviving an ordeal of that scope, or even successfully approaching the Undead without becoming a feast for its horde, were even worse than successfully coercing Daria to cooperate; since, it seemed, she indeed wasn't a Visceralist.
"Let's leave," said Dorian, crestfallen and returning the Webweaver to his face.
---
This vote's winner was [X] Plan Scavenger, involving the creation of a TV-based mask, recruiting Scott, and some revelations.
Activities with The Crimson Lost earned it an extra one (1) Potential:
[ ] Battle Tendency - Increase the masked's combat-relevant skills and attributes, as if they'd trained for an additional month.
[ ] Hemokinesis - Increase the range of hemokinesis by a tenth; can currently affect blood in arm's reach at full power, diminishing power by half for each further extent of the same. Increase the power of hemokinetic weapon creation by a twentieth; currently sufficient to condense and force blood into a sharp material form equivalent to steel.
Activities with The Artificer's Face earned it an extra one (1) Potential:
[ ] Craftsman - Adds a starting half-Potential to each crafted mask while Artificer's Face is worn.
[ ] Exposure - Increase Facelessness effect, accelerating how fast victims are made Faceless, or the enhancing / shattering effect on masks.
You've crafted Screentime, a mask with 12 Potential. Its chief ability is [Teleview], which allows for remote viewing of something related to a stated goal or target.
The Street calls; you have a single day left on this world.
[ ] Find Warlord - Follow Screentime's vision by attempting to contact the Undead Warlord operating out in the countryside of Brockport, without being consumed by the zombies under his control. It's said he's amassing a horde to invade the nearby city of Belltree.
*Won't take more than a full day; somehow, you can feel this as an instinct, guided by Screentime.
*Moderate odds of injury or death.
*If you contact the Warlord, it's rather likely he'll trade a mask for a live Visceral graft. You're very confident he'll make the trade in good faith; the Undead are known for doing this often with small nomadic human communities and independent vampires when it suits their needs; showing honesty incentivizes more of such dealings.
*This won't allow you to instantly become a Visceralist, but it's the first of several needed steps, and arguably the most important one.
[ ] Gather Information - The route of caution. Find out what Daria's diet is before taking action; you can do this by sneaking around. If you wish to go the extra mile, you can also craft a mask for spying, or recruit Scott as an informant. Tactics advised.
*Depending on tactics, this can occupy anywhere from a couple of minutes to a full day.
[ ] Ambush Daria - Vampire or not, she also sleeps; if not always at night. Use the Crimson Lost's enhanced attributes to sneak up on her and slit her throat, or you can try to use the Webweaver to suppress any enhanced senses she might possess to ensure you're not caught. Tactics advised.
*Shouldn't take more than half an hour.
[ ] Accuse Daria - Accuse Daria of being a vampire to her face. This might result in a bloodbath if you aren't careful.
-[ ] Public - Do so in front of a bunch of survivors; distribute some masks if you feel it prudent to ensure she can be taken down if need be.
-[ ] Private - Do so away from the survivors, to ensure she can't take hostages if she feels cornered.
*Shouldn't take more than half an hour.
[ ] Make Mask - You could craft a new mask as well.
*Depending on material and intended result, anywhere from half an hour to a day to craft a proper mask.
[ ] Socialize: Scott - Get Scott even more firmly on your side. You're erstwhile partners; perhaps it's time to exchange some basic facts about yourself to build trust?
[ ] Go Downstreet - Leave this accursed world. See if you can return home, or at least go elsewhere from here.
[ ] Stay Here - You can ignore the Street as well. Should you really, though?
[ ] Write-in