- Location
- USA
This is probably the simplest option. Email the story, along with your username and password, to someone trusted.
...Who Needs Enemies? [AltPower!Taylor / Worm]
DemiRapscallion
Apathetically Excited
- Location
- California
Just caught up. Really sorry about your health. I know that probably sounds like a bland statement at this point, but I do mean it. I like your style, your humor. The interpretations you bring to the table. It's incredibly enjoyable. I hope you can recover in the meantime.
- Location
- Colorado
I'm loving this story just as much as always. Is there a ff.net or ao3 archive? If not could one please be made when you feel up to it?
Hye
Reader of The Long Words
- Location
- In the middle of a story
I don't understand why you would want that. I mean, SV is superior in every way, compared to FF or ao3. I assume. I don't actually know ao3, so I can't say, but the sentiment stands. It's better, easier and doesn't ruin the story with the invisi-text being shown. You can't do that on FF.net. And it's a vital part of the story.
The only two positives I could see for FF, possibly ao3, is that it would be easier to read on a phone and that there's no need for threadmarks, when an author doesn't threadmark his stories, look at old you, Hiver. Man, the stories were awesome, but I almost dropped them, because it was an absolute pain, trying to read it on a phone.
Anyway, in conclusion. FF.net is good, ao3 is unknown, but SV is better. Hope that answered your question.
- Location
- Colorado
I 100% disagree but that's just my opinion. SV can't be downloaded and I prefer to download stuff so I can listen to it at work since I'm allowed my own music/audio books since no one gets bugged by then.
Edit: Also I hate invisitext with a burning passion but a certain chicken's writing is good enough for me to read it anyway.
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Hye
Reader of The Long Words
- Location
- In the middle of a story
Alright, that is a fair point. I myself hate audiobooks with a passion. Well, I'm just not a fan of them. They're practical when you don't have the time to sit down and read, but I do prefer that. So in that case, FF could great, yeah.
I like Invisitext. I do also have a Stylish thing that make them be highlighted(darkened?) so I know they're there. It's an outright bitch on the phone.
- Location
- Colorado
I do most of my reading on my phone so I just end up highlighting the entire page to find the invisitext which can be somewhat even more confusing than just missing the invisitext. I usually end up reading the chapters twice so that I get it both ways.
Also I love that Taylor's calling her shard Bob.
Hye
Reader of The Long Words
- Location
- In the middle of a story
Yeah, I used to do that as well. Well, after I got an Android. My iPhone wouldn't highlight the invisitext, for some reason. That's just another plus for android, I guess. Anywho, I used to do that. Now, whenever I read a story on my phone and find instances of Invisitext, I immediately bookmark the story and read it later on my PC instead. It's so much less trouble.
Well, you gotta call things something and "shard" is so impersonal. And Bob seems as good as name as any. I mean, as long as it isn't Deathy McStabby Control-every-fucking-thing The Third Junior.
Archeo Lumiere
The Prince's Archivist
- Location
- Lumiose City, Kalos
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Download Firefox for Android, Stylish works on it.
- Location
- New Zealand
Well, I guess I'll just add my voice to the throng hoping that you get better soon and say that I'm absolutely loving this. I think this is the best interpretation of the Endbringers I've ever read. Also, I love your profile picture. It cracks me up every time I see it.
- Location
- Canada
Me too. This was a delightful and twisted story. I hope you get better
- Location
- US of A
Just caught up and was reminded how much I love your characterization of the Endbrinders. Every section in their perspective is slightly off but also personable, you did a really good job. I'll join with all the other in wishing you well with your health!
Make a bookmark, then edit it and change the url to the above code. Name it Invisitext Revealer or whatever, and click on it to reveal any invisitext on the page for SV or SB.
Then select it when posting your work and use
(in the HTML mode of the work editor) to make whatever text is inside the span transparent.
If you know there's invisitext on the page, you can just click on a bookmark and it will make it visible:
javascript:$(%22%5Bstyle*='transparent'%5D%22).attr(%22style%22,%20%22color%20:%20blue%22)
On AO3, it's possible to use invisitext with a workskin. I looked and there isn't currently a public skin for it, but I submitted mine for review so in the future there might be "Invisitext (Transparent Text)" that you can use. In the meantime, just make your own workskin by going to your dashboard, clicking "Skins", clicking "Create Work Skin" and then making a skin with the following in the code area:
Code:
#workskin .invisible {
color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);
}
Code:
<span class="invisible"></span>I prefer to use a Stylus style that puts a visible border around all invisitext (so I know its there) and makes it visible when I hover my mouse over it:
Code:
@-moz-document domain("forum.questionablequesting.com"), domain("forums.spacebattles.com"), domain("forums.sufficientvelocity.com") {
/* invisitext notification */
span[style='color: transparent'] {
border: 1px dotted red;
}
span[style='color: transparent']:hover {
text-shadow: red 1px 1px 1px, red 1px 1px 1px;
color: inherit !important;
}
span[style='color: Transparent'] {
border: 1px dotted red;
}
span[style='color: Transparent']:hover {
text-shadow: red 1px 1px 1px, red 1px 1px 1px;
color: inherit !important;
}
}- Location
- US of A
Does Stylus work for mobile browsers? Do you tap it to reveal since you can't hover?
- Location
- Windy City
Long-press to select works on even invisible text on some browsers, anyway. Even without any tools.
I believe it does work for mobile Firefox (same as uBlock). Other mobile browsers generally don't support extensions.
I also use Stylus, but with different style: gist:4bb9de2d4a5048ba52e331722ee1556d · GitHub
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I don't know if it works on mobile. As for the lack of hover, that stylesheet doesn't do click-to-reveal, but you could write one that does. Or you could just use the stylsheet to show you where the invisitext is and select it to reveal like normal.
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The Magician
Yeet
- Location
- The Basement
4.02 REV-2
The Steve
The Laughing Chicken
- Location
- Moar Invisitext!
...Who Needs Enemies?
The Endbringers Seek
The Endbringers Seek
Earth in all its varieties was no real impediment for the First, Behemoth, for he was made of far sturdier stuff. Once fifty kilometers from the Tower, and out of range of their Tinker directional seismographs, he accelerated from his sedate four hundred kilometers per hour pace and began absorbing and redirecting all vibrations his travel emitted. Unlike the Second, Leviathan, he had to absorb vibrations from multiple different materials and densities which limited his speed somewhat.
Discretion demanded it.
He proceeded to his target, having located the exact coordinates before leaving, and, unlike the Third, Simurgh, his target existed still in the present.
Boston.
He should be on time but accelerated slightly further, leaving nothing to chance.
---===---
The Second, Leviathan, circled his own target half a world away, unseen beneath the river's waves. Rather, his sublet did, he had to remain on the throne. It was his shift after all.
Over twenty million minds made for an almost intoxicating storm of feeling. Thankfully, most were unconscious at this hour, being twelve time-zones over.
Sleeping.
Dreaming.
The collective subconscious.
It was home.
He swam in guilt, pleasure, shame, hate, and every other feeling that they secreted while lying still, breathing and unconscious. It was such a small and simple palette, but one he'd had to work with for some time now.
Now, where was hunger?
Most in their homes were all sated, or had other hungers that were not what the Client wanted.
Ah, a target. One sleeping in the corners of a cardboard box, shivering in the cold.
Hungry.
Coordinating with the Third, the man began feeling the Screams as they were known, but they were lost with the noise of the traffic booming overhead and the man ignored them and everything else with long practice.
Where had his hunger peaked? At what place?
Mapping the hunger to the route he had walked, sat, begged, excreted, and briefly ate in the past week, together they found a match.
A building with avian carcasses hanging, slathered in, as many things were, impure water.
Dangling protein coated in NaCl, C5H8NO4Na, a variety of oils, and other components.
The man wanted them with more than simple hunger, less than an hour prior that day his dried noodle package had filled his belly, no it was more.
The man had eaten these things in the past, with other such beings, including a little one that he had himself created.
Hunger and nostalgia, blended with a quietly dreadful urge to destroy anything and everything to have that moment back, self-loathing, despair, guilt, and regret.
A near perfect match to the Client.
One item selected.
On to the rice.
---===---
A man slept seemingly under heavy intoxication. He would not stir as his mind was cross-indexed with the Client's memory.
A man would have his tongue removed in twenty-one minutes. His screams would be productive according to the Second, Leviathan, as a deterrence.
A man's fax would be intercepted, dynakinetically plucked from the air and a new signal was delivered in its place. This would start a chain of events.
The Simurgh was busy.
Timing was everything, and everything was timing. Even with nearly all of her antennae retracted and thus limited to a single universe, that did not change.
The man floating before her, the woman approaching behind him, associates of the prior Client, both could not die.
An Order would fail.
And an Order could not fail, at least not yet.
Thus delicacy was required, yet she was not delicate.
Such actions like this were not part of her Subject, nor of her Purpose, and it showed in how her efforts on the world lingered beyond what the others did, even when they pulled landmasses down, killed millions, or destroyed %75+ of the engaging forces.
The First, Behemoth, was ever the vigorous pruner.
The Second, Leviathan, was ever the esoteric sculptor.
She was neither.
And so she held still, that stillness reducing the static of free will around her, and she looked for what sequence of events that would best lead to her final success.
An object was assembled within the basket, out of sight. The substance was decided upon in advance due to the Subject of the First, Behemoth, retrieved from the depths as it was determined to be faster and cheaper than modifying it from other materials.
The form from was decided after a brief cross-study with the Subject of the Second, Leviathan, to provide the maximum effect for minimum energy.
Efficiency as always, that was their way.
It would be presented.
It had been presented.
She reached in with her antenna-limb-hand and presented it.
And then she waited. She was good at that.
Soon she would nod.
---===---
[This is the Thinker-Tinker-Tank. Do not engage the Simurgh. I repeat, do not engage, over.]
That's all the day had been, compromises and horror.
[This is Zoe, the Toybox representative you were talking to. Can you hear me?]
[The Tinker we were talking about on the rooftop, Codenamed "Red", we sent him a live feed. He took one look at the cloak the Simurgh is wearing and hasn't stopped swearing yet. It looks like it will protect her from ThoughtStop, and also let her pass through the residual memetic radiation afterward. Though if it blankets the EndD20, it may buy it time.]
[We have no idea if the EndD20 can protect us from the effects, so please, do not escalate matters.]
[We believe the fact that she is walking and retracted her wings is because she's powered down to a lower level.]
He floated closer towards the Endbringer. Closer than he ever had before, distance being his preferred method of dealing with things. Having literally all the lasers built those sorts of habits into a man.
"What do you want?" He shouted his words carefully, more for the others listening and nearby, fingers nervous, twitchy. Best to have someone commanding, if only for the illusion.
In response the Simurgh halted, red cloak rippling slightly as she did.
The car she was next to was mostly gone, not with glowing or smoking edges, nor with frost. Just gone, swallowed into the billowing and flowing shield-cloak she wore.
All was silent for nearly a minute, long enough for the mutters to begin again.
Then the basket was raised. The fact that the cloak did not pierce or consume it like everything else was noted, and the Tinkers were already muttering and looking into why.
A pale hand dipped in.
A stone tablet was pulled from the depths.
Rectangular, with sharp corners, it appeared to be made of frozen Lapis Lazuli.
Polished, gleaming, looking like a step from the pavement under the feet of God himself.
It was offered with a small smile, barely visible through the hood of red-shifted stars.
Legend gingerly approached, floating barely out of arms reach of the Endbringer, thankful his gloves were very thick for the Tinkers were warning that the tablet was only a few degrees above absolute zero.
Once safely in his hands lasers from his fingertips gently warmed it, causing the blue oxygen frozen to it to boil off in gentle clouds.
He saw it alone, visor disabled, a precaution in case it was meant to harm those who observed it. Tinkers, Thinkers, scientists, strategists, generals, all would be gradually exposed to it on a delay, along with men with firearms pointed at them, just in case.
Something deep inside of him relaxed. He felt better.
For all he saw was the familiar chicken-scratch writing of an old friend, carved into the stone tablet with the delicacy of a master sculptor.
Hero had sent word.
---===---
Once under Boston, the First, Behemoth coordinated with the Second, Leviathan, and the Third, Simurgh, and the released his own small drone towards the surface.
Their coordination was not to see, for mere matter did not obscure his vision. Solar radiation bathed the surface of the world, and that was energy, thus as a Dynakinetic he could measure, manipulate, and control it. No, the coordination was to ensure that the timing was correct.
It wouldn't do for this discrete action to be discovered, and since the timing was critical, it also wouldn't do to be stuck waiting in a line.
The drone gently broke through the reinforced pavement of the parking lot with a peculiar lack of noise, considering both the rebar and the concrete had to give way. Once on the surface it rose to its feet, struggling to balance on two legs as mercury sloshed in a small cavity in the drone's head. It took a step, staggered, then took another, and was soon next to a brown pickup truck. A peculiar sonic vibration caused the drone to vibrate slightly, dust and pebbles dislodging from the garments and causing a car alarm to go off on the far end of the lot.
It was ignored as this was Boston and no one gave a shit.
Once scoured clean, the drone peered into the side mirror and adjusted its hair with its fingers, before confirming the garment it wore was secure.
The Behemoth had learned a lot about the necessity of grooming from the Client, both of fur and garment.
It set off, walking calmly.
Towards the target.
---===---
A fog descended upon the city, a touch unusual, especially at the particular time of night, but otherwise noted and ignored, save for warnings updating on electronic road signs.
注意濃霧！
小心駕駛。
小心駕駛。
It would cover for most distant observation, so confirmed the First, Behemoth, but for closer observation, of which the distinct possibility was likely, so gently probed the Third, Simurgh, more would be needed.
Additional meat as a covering was considered, then discarded. The height of his creation was already pushing the limits of what constituted "average" height, more would not help. Nor was changing the form, it would be observed, analyzed, and that data would be helpful in both current acting Orders, and those theorized to come.
Efficiency and their Subjects would provide the answer.
The First, Behemoth, as always, was ever ready to offer his.
The Third, Simurgh, as always, declined.
Together it was determined that they, for given values of 'they', needed to see this.
Video cameras, checked only after the gathering was over, would see the small replica of Leviathan, L2, rise from the river and climb onto the dock. They would see its glowing blue eyes study the boat next to it, even as its head moved in that disconcerting motion known so famously from its much larger creator.
They would watch it leap onto the boat and approach the elaborate cloth sails. A bodyguard of the rich man sleeping on the boat quickly approached the hunched intruder, posture cold and serious, shouting silently as no audio had been recorded.
When L2 rose from his saurian like crouch and stared at the man with his drawn gun, they did not need audio to guess what was said in the blurry video.
Raw terror came through in motions alone, and in seconds the man's head was pulled off like a child would pull off a dandelion's.
Cradling it carefully, L2's tail speared into the water and a smaller rod was pulled forth, boat rocking as the water underneath it was pulled into its creation.
The rod was tapped against the head, and, ten seconds later, a gem was floating into L2's claws. It was carefully placed on top of the smaller rod, like the capstone of a king's scepter.
Seconds later, a watery duplicate was assisting L2 with the cloth sails as the head was summarily discarded into the waters.
Fine sail cloth was cut in swipes of claws, and in no time at all a crude robe was made, and L2 held still as the robe was draped carefully over his frame.Once garbed his tail withdrew into its depths.
The second piece of cloth, smaller, was quickly made into a crude cap, like something a boy would wear in a black and white film. This was carefully placed on L2's head by the watery man.
Garments complete, both L2 and the watery duplicate of the man leapt to the docks before an errant gesture of the rod sent the translucent man on his next mission.
Cradling his own gem in one hand, he dragged his headless body towards the end of the docks. Once at the edge the watery man hopped off, landing on the water as if it were ground. He then let go of his former body, letting it sink under the waves, and then he strode off into the mists, destination unknown.
By then L2 had left the docks and was on the concrete pier, his saurian stride making the cloth ripple and snap behind him. He stopped and started adjusting his robe, looking like a picture a child would draw of a nightmare, a beast draping itself in a robe and hat, pretending to be a man only to get close…
Once again he stretched, back straightening, digitigrade toes settling onto heels, letting the robe cover most of his feet.
His tail writhed under the robes briefly before spearing through the cloth and wrapping around his waist over and over, like a thick belt, securing the cloth to his frame.
The robe and cap covered all but two of his eyes, a single hand, and the tips of his toes.
Slowly, awkwardly, it walked, hunching over slightly, too long limbs using the scepter being as a walking stick.
He too vanished into the mists before the cameras.
Heading inland.
---===---
Like all things that measured, precision was required, thus, the Third, Simurgh was precise.
Like all things that retrieved, range was required, thus the Third, Simurgh could pull things from quite far away.
And like all things that separated, force was required, thus the Third, Simurgh, was very good with force.
The object brandished
|may be|should be|appeared to be|
successful. The pattern etched upon it appeared to be sufficient for the rest of the process.What the pattern actually was was irrelevant, comprehension was irrelevant, only that no Order would fail. An image was foreseen and thus etched, the emotions it would produce deemed sufficient for the task.
As always.
She would be shot in one minute fifteen seconds. The First, Behemoth was already busy sculpting, preparing her blood, and carving her just under her first layer. Like the tablet, what was under the layer was irrelevant, only that it worked. That it satisfied the usage of his Subject was secondary.
Her stride was measured carefully, both as practice for the unusual act of physical contact upon the ground, and to measure progress. She had little experience with physical motion, but she was learning quickly.
After all, it wouldn't do to be late.
---===---
Legend reread the tablet carefully, marveling at both how and why a bunch of office paper and post-it notes could be carved onto it. His fingers carefully traced a coffee stain etched with both precision and care.
Hero was buying time by distracting them as best he could. Requests for odd items, things they didn't appear to understand were almost sarcastic.
He'd asked for Chinese food from China, a fictitious element he'd joked that would be in a movie eventually, and art supplies?
And it appeared to be working, or at least the Endbringers had bought the story and were gathering them. And the EndD20 either understood this fact, or was wary of the bomb that the Simurgh brandished.
It wasn't just time he was buying them, he had been doing his own analysis of the Endbringers. He underlined twice on one note the fact that the Simurgh could not read his mind, at least for right now while her wings were withdrawn. But he also warned that the unshielded communications would be intercepted, from some device hidden inside the basket.
The fact that it could be a trick was not lost on him, but it was so unnecessary. Why trick them, when they had all the cards? They had the bomb -several apparently- and, apparently they only had to wait for the green glow to fade from the EndD20, so said his resurrected friend. They didn't have to do anything and they'd eventually win.
They were only concerned with how they were winning.
So much to do. He'd have to get it all confirmed, and he couldn't confer with anyone over the radio without it being intercepted, so he'd have to fly up to the field the weapon produced to talk to the others. And he couldn't dare leave right now or risk the stress of everyone else ruining this tense opportunity his friend had arranged, so he uttered the words he never thought he'd have to say.
"Let her pass."
The world watched as she nodded, pulling her hood back as she did, letting her silver hair emerge and drift in the nonexistent breeze.
And the Endbringer strode on.
"Hey Weld, trying a new look?"
The drone nodded, still walking towards its target.
Always moving inexorably towards the target.
So far so good, less than a mile remaining. The next major hurdle would be the entry to retrieve the items.
Doors were not something the Behemoth had ever operated before, and, he studied as much data as he could while directing the drone.
But if the Second, Leviathan could open doors, so could he.
---===---
Only a few items remained to be gathered.
He had the grains and the cooked plants and the animal meats and the unusual excessively contaminated waters laden with salts. All was still at the perfect temperature, the water within gently keeping things warm and the steam carefully recycled. He still remembered how items could fail Orders if unduly moist, be it comics or sandwiches or this.
His timing would be perfect, and the synchronicity of emotions to what the Client had broadcast as she made her Order would match precisely with what he gathered.
An Order would be fulfilled.
With hydrokinesis as both his vision and his cane, Leviathan had not needed to tax the Third, Simurgh, unduly for she was busy with her own interpretation of the Order all the while assisting the First, Behemoth, on his. He didn't understand either approach, he rarely did, but the Third, Simurgh, seemed confident enough with hers, while the First, Behemoth, was moderately tentative with his.
The second-to-last building was soon in front of him, and the item desired spinning slowly on display. Another animal, differing from the others, closer to the Client in protein composition, and, with his slowly gathering lexicon of tastes that the Client had had, was vaguely "sweet" like the objects she had consumed, and "sour" like the beverage she had ingested.
Taste was becoming quite the interesting topic to the Second, Leviathan. He had never bothered with it during his actions for the previous Client, but, with all the complex associations it had to his Subject, it was almost alarming that he had ignored it as something to study.
Would the results of his previous actions been more effective if the rain tasted like their tears?
If the waves were bitter or sour, would the after effects have been better or worse?
Something to contemplate and test later.
The fog gently clung to the glass of the window and pulled, opening the way silently. His sublet entered, claws reaching for the item. The tissues would be cut and arranged upon the grains.
He declined another offer from the Third, Simurgh, no assistance was necessary.
His own attempt would not and had not required intricate interactions with any beings of this city, and he had easily avoided stragglers wandering the alleyways, fog centered upon him and moving as he did.
No one could sneak up on him, for they were mostly made of water and he saw all water.
Thus, he felt hubris on at least sixteen different levels when the building he was collecting items in exploded. And, when he confirmed that the items he had meticulously and painstakingly collected in his sailcloth bag were atomized, he felt consternation and irritation.
He looked outward, studying the all the water of the city, and then studied it all again when another attack struck his sublet and the remnants of the building.
With no apparent living beings moving in any sort of threatening motion for kilometers, no water moving in any sort of threatening patterns, no water or fog being excited by heat or particle weapons, or parted by force or lasers, the attack shouldn't have happened. Yet it did.
There was only confusion.
The Third, Simurgh, helpfully pointed out a cube of phased space that had approached the whole while, studied his movements, and finally launched the assault.
Confusion gave way to realization and consternation.
He could have asked, She had offered even.
She would have answered.
The fault was his.
Three attempts at succeeding the Order were now two.
Another failure, and he was doing so well.
Upon the sublet returning, he would inquire with the Administrator if he should end.
Out of the sky descended the Yàngbǎan, gem-like masks and flowing costumes, not disturbing even a single drop of moisture as they did. Invisible to the eyes of Leviathan and Behemoth, but not of the Simurgh, who saw the static of the causality they carried.
Consternation was replaced with irritation. Immense irritation.
If he could not complete his interpretation of the Order, at least in this place, there was always assisting with Deterrence.
Thorough deterrence.
---===---
The gunshot that rang out in that crisp, cold and silent afternoon was a shock to many.
It's target was not. For you McPoopin!
The Simurgh flinched.
The Simurgh, who had taken beyond nuclear level attacks and flown on, who had faced the Triumvirate and always serenely persevered, even when she was driven back, especially when she was driven back, had flinched from a simple high powered rifle.
Her free hand drifted towards her forehead. Inquisitive porcelain fingers came back wet with silvery blood.
Her ever-present smile slowly drifted away.
When she turned to look in the direction of the attack, those that hadn't fought her in Australia found themselves pulling in their breath with a whimper at her expression.
Those who had waited to die.
By bomb, by telekinetic blast, by the very buildings they were hiding in being pulled down around them, the Simurgh frankly had a lot of options in her present location.
But nothing. No one died.
The truce was still apparently in effect, but was being violated by their side. That had to stop.
Those studying the video feed of her face noticed the spiderweb of cracks centered above her right eyebrow, of how the tiny fragments of pure white fell, sounding like porcelain on the asphalt, and hinting at something grey underneath...
Another shot. This one was seemingly not as loud as the first despite being the exact same noise, for their nerves were ready for it this time. The Simurgh too was ready, and her head barely moved when the shot struck her on the right side of the bridge of her nose.
The cracks widened further.
"You killed my boy!" The voice was male, old, and most importantly, allowed them to locate the shooter. But not before the third shot.
It struck her on her cheek below her eye, and the cracks made a triangle around it. A piece fell, then another, before a major portion fell to the ground, exploding into a syrup of liquid hydrogen and something unnatural.
Revealing an eye.
As eyes went, it was almost human looking, if one overlooked a few things.
- First, its color was grey. Not the grey people often described a human being's eye, but grey as in lacking absolutely any pigment, any color, ever. Pupil, iris, sclera, dull grey upon grey flecked with grey. She made the Grey Boy look positively vibrant in comparison.
- Second, she looked bored. Her eyelid drooped dangerously over her gaze. Veteran Capes, those who had worked with the strongest of Thinkers, Precogs, and Brutes recognized the look, rather they'd seen the faint echo of it. Of one who had stared too long into the light of the future, and the waves of inevitability had scoured the human mind like a rock in a river. Brutes often had it even worse, their Powers often bringing every solution to one, over and over and over, until thoughts of all other options ceased to exist.
She was beyond bored, beyond numb. And nothing, not the enemies before her, the task she had set out to do, or the attack upon her person appeared to matter at all. She could live, she could die, they could live or die, everything could die and it wouldn't matter in the slightest.
- Third, she looked tired.
"This is insane." The voice over their comms was one that many recognized, Panacea. "Periorbital dark circles like that... has-has she ever slept?"
Her voice, an accident with her elbow hitting the wrong button, set off the other Thinkers, and the Heroes found themselves bombarded over their communications with theory after theory, each horrifyingly plausible, each worse than the last. Dragon forced silence upon the audio streams, but the damage had been done.
Beyond tired, beyond exhausted, beyond anything a human being could ever endure while sane, the Simurgh's eye slowly swept up towards the one who had shot her.
He was on the fourth floor of a nearby building, looking down and furiously trying to load more shells into his rifle. His suit was a dull blue, but a little plainer and older-styled than what would be seen in a modern office. It was well worn, but looking like careful diligence and mending would keep it going until his retirement.
A reluctance to change. Clinging to what had been.
"Damn you!" The man also looked well worn, but his voice carried far even while parahumans made their way into and up the building, trying to prevent him from killing them all. "Damn you to hell!"
The eye of the Simurgh gained a faint glimmer of life, one so faint that the recording couldn't show it, that few present believed they even saw it. Like a glowing ember of a spent match in pitch black room.
The eye of the Simurgh swept towards the basket, and, as she turned to reach into it, everyone held their breath.
Was this the end?
From the basket came a small box, dark brown and a mix of leather and suede. Her hand extended towards the man, and the box moved steadily towards him, not thrown so much as pushed, softly through the air, through the hole in the glass he had made with his gunfire, and was placed gently at his feet.
At the sight of it, he let out a dull moan, gun dropping from nerveless fingers. He knelt, uncaring of the glass destroying his pants and making his shins bleed as he reached down and cradled the box like an infant, weeping.
Then he froze and glanced up and behind him, and only Legend recognized it for what it was. She'd done it to him only a day ago.
She was whispering to him, the voice coming from behind like a loved one, in the voice of someone dear. Legend had heard Arthur, whispering in that drowsy tone he had on the rare mornings they shared a Sunday morning together.
Not Yet.
And just like him, the whispered words of the Simurgh destroyed the man.
Even as his office door was forced open the man was hurtling towards the window, clutching the unopened box.
Legend knew he could fly and catch him, but to do that, to interfere with the Simurgh, might set her off.
And so he dug his fingers into his palms and watched the man land headfirst onto the sidewalk, four stories below. The sound his head made upon the concrete would be another nightmare he would have to carry.
The man's peace lasted only a handful of seconds before his head glowed green. In moments he was reassembled, like watching a melon being smashed with a hammer in reverse.
His eyes opened and he took a breath.
And he realized he was still alive.
When the two brave Agents (chosen by the Thinkers as the statistically safest and least value lost by proximity) managed to reach the man he was still being healed by the stubborn green glow as he tried desperately to smash his head on the curb.
He wasn't winning.
No one spoke as he was dragged away. Legend's gaze returned to the Simurgh, breathing a sad sigh. It was all he had left to feel at the moment.
There was no satisfaction in her gaze, no enjoyment, nothing at all. The ember was gone.
Her hand went to cover her exposed eye, much like one would rub the heel of one's hand in fatigue, only it sounded like ice growing on a riverbank. In a moment, her face was pristine, covered by that thin layer of ultra-cold white.
She smiled and started walking towards her goal.
Few still followed her.
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The Steve
The Laughing Chicken
- Location
- Moar Invisitext!
Ugh, apologies.
But I have a riddle for you all:
What has two thumbs and is feeling remarkably little pain?
This guy.
It turns out that certain surgeries, especially when done less than... let's go with skillfully here, tend to leave problems when they finish.
Problems that can be corrected, but, take ages and money to do.
I am very nearly pain free now, and can finally focus.
I should have slept this last night, but instead I bashed my head upon the keyboard for a few hours and produced this.
Looking at it, it's rough, and needs a pass or two with some sandpaper and polish, but I need to put something down lest the euphoria fade with nothing done.
Cheers,
But I have a riddle for you all:
What has two thumbs and is feeling remarkably little pain?
This guy.
It turns out that certain surgeries, especially when done less than... let's go with skillfully here, tend to leave problems when they finish.
Problems that can be corrected, but, take ages and money to do.
I am very nearly pain free now, and can finally focus.
I should have slept this last night, but instead I bashed my head upon the keyboard for a few hours and produced this.
Looking at it, it's rough, and needs a pass or two with some sandpaper and polish, but I need to put something down lest the euphoria fade with nothing done.
Cheers,
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- Location
- Earth Prime
Hm. It's been so long, I don't quite remember what Taylor is having them do. Pity about the people still getting killed. But interesting to watch them in action towards a goal that is inscrutable because it is too mundane.
Glad to hear you're doing better, @The Steve. Condolences about whatever surgical mishap struck you. Take care, and thanks for the chapter!
Glad to hear you're doing better, @The Steve. Condolences about whatever surgical mishap struck you. Take care, and thanks for the chapter!