Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
Given wings by her panic, Imogenâs flight brought her to the far side of the island lickety-split. Her shoes pounded the sand only a little less hard than her heart pounded in her chest. No matter how little she knew or understood about her current situation, she knew one thing with every fiber of her being: that she wasnât going to be eaten by that monstrosity. Even if her real body lay on the brink of death, whether in a hospital bed or on the silty seabed, and none of her actions here mattered one way or the other as to whether or not sheâd see another day, Imogen wanted to live. More accurately, perhaps, she didnât want to be ground into pulp inside that thingâs maw, or slowly disintegrated by its stomach acid. If she could help it, Imogen would keep going, because thatâs what sheâd always done no matter how bad things got. Even if all the world were to conspire to arrange her downfall, sheâd find a way to persevere through sheer spite.
Right now, though, her grand designs ran into a little snag. Predictably, she ran out of island, and slid to a stop in a spray of sand just inches from the bubbling surf of that uncanny sea. Imogan whipped around to look for the frog, her breathing ragged and unsteady. Despite her best efforts, she could still see and hear that damnable amphibian through the trees, but at least it didnât seem to be pursuing her. Phase two of her âplanâ had already begun, which consisted for the most part of hoping that bulbous freak went after someone else. She didnât know if she could stay away from it if it set her sights on her; only now, after her brief burst of adrenaline, could she really begin to appreciate how much her mad dash took out of her. Probable malnourishment plus a rather sedentary lifestyle did not add up to make a physical powerhouse. Her vision swam, her throat hurt, and she could only wait and watch for danger as she struggled to stay standing.
From this distance she couldnât see the whole story, but things didnât look good. At first she Imogen wondered if the ungainly beast hadnât pursued anyone -predators in the wild could be confused by the erratic movement of fleeing zebras and such, after all- but her heart sank as a more likely reason solidified in her mind. Someone might have tripped and fallen while trying to run, or maybe never fled at all, and remained paralyzed by fear on the spot. Gritting her teeth, Imogen tentatively moved along the shore until she could see a bit better, at which point her hands flew to her head. It was Maive. Someone had already been eaten -Sofia, if God was just- and now Maive stood alone in front of the heavyweight horror as it finished up the first course to move on to the second. Imogen hated the thought of just standing here and watching it happen, but what could she -or anyone- do?
As if in reply, the wind began to pick up.
Imogen froze, blinking in surprise, as a cool gust blew through her hair. Everything had been weirdly still up until now, but all of a sudden this breeze coursed through the bushes and palm fronds, building with such surprising speed that Imogen needed to steady herself to not teeter over. Equally baffled and amazed, she watched from afar as the air seemed to gather into a rippling storm cell by Maive. After just another moment, that blustery mass burst, and from within emerged a cyclonic apparition, its body like a loosely-wrapped mummy with âbandagesâ of spiraling air. Nobody who looked at it and saw another monstrous foe here to torment them could be blamed for assuming the worst, but something about it sprouted a sprig of hope in Imogenâs heart. The way it appeared behind Maive and focused on the titanic toad told her that, for whatever reason, it was here to help and not harm. Sure enough, the whirling spirit went on the offensive, attacking the malignant menace with giant ghostly hands. Unfortunately, Maiveâs helper did not succeed. She failed to extract the person the frog gobbled up, and Maive herself took a withering blow right afterward. Thatâs the end of that, Imogen thought, her hopes crushed and her day ruined (again), but somehow Maive survived the attack. Imogenâs grip on her head tightened, her eyes wide with worry. This emotional roller coaster sucked, and she wanted off. Being stuck in the peanut gallery sure wasnât doing her emotional state any favors. She got the distinct impression that Maive and that inexplicable specter needed help, but Imogen couldnât do anything. Scared, distant, powerless, worthless. Like always.
I can't find any fault with that sheet. The route you've taken with your characters in that their themes and strengths aren't best suited for fighting is an interesting one, since we do end up doing a good amount of combat in this RP, but as long as your characters continuously compel you to write I'm all for it. Partitio is accepted.
As much as she wanted to put all her fancy new psytech to the test, looking stuff up, editing her interface, customizing her SAS interactions, and generally seeing what it could do, Peach couldnât stay up all that late. She was bone-tired. Even though nothing of major importance to her campaign had been achieved today, it had been a long day, and the Seekers ended up covering quite a lot of ground. They set out from home base at Alcamoth in the continent's southeastern reaches, boated across river, rapids, and sea, fought tooth and nail with pirates, and survived the mad scramble in Nyakuza Metro all the way up in the Frozen Highlands. After the teams got separated, her arrival in Gutsford led to that absurd truck battle through the scrubland and Kunad Highway. Things scarcely got less crazy after that with the heroesâ arrival in Midgar and subsequent adventures within it, including her first brush with the Others.
Lying in bed in her dorm room, silent except for the breathing and occasional snores of other female OSF personnel, Peach could scarcely believe all that had transpired. It boggled the mind and defied prediction; if nothing else, this world was never boring. Who could have guessed that today sheâd officially join the ranks of a foreign city-stateâs psionic military? Of course, she couldnât help but worry about something unexpected just around the next corner taking her by surprise, but there wasnât much she could do about it other than trust in her teammates, and in herself, too. In Midgar more than ever before, she felt caught up in a current much bigger and stronger than herself. Fighting against it in its entirety might be impossible, but she couldnât just resign herself to the flow, either. Sooner or later, Princess Peach was going to make a difference around here. Maybe sheâd even save the world.
Ultimately, it took only a few moments of reminiscing in bed before Peach fell asleep.
Next morning, she awoke suddenly with her head ringingâliterally. One of the programs uploaded to Peachâs mind via her SAS connected -and enabled by default- was a morning wake-up call system, and though neither painfully obnoxious nor clamorous it proved insistent enough to rouse her from bed at the start of the standard Psych-OSF day: six oâclock. Throwing off the covers, she put her feet on the floor and rubbed her face. These people clearly werenât night owls. After putting herself together, she found two new Brain Messages. One was a general message from command detailing instructions for that morning, which amounted to making all the necessary preparations for starting âOperation Scourâ at nine oâclock on the dot. That meant three hours to get herself in working order, fully cleaned, fed, and equipped for her first assignment as a member of OSF. Of course, Peach also knew to keep in mind that she wasnât just some grunt. She was an infiltrator. She needed to get whatever useful information about OSF, its top brass, its relation to the government, and so forth that she could without blowing her cover. Learning more about the Others, and by extension the Ever Crisis, was even more important. The Seekers who didnât accompany the three cadets should be informed about the OSF and its movements too, although for now Peach didnât know how sheâd contact the others. It might be too busy this morning to sneak out in person, and she got the impression that whatever she sent through Psynet might not necessarily be secure. Oh well, she thought, heading for the door. Iâll cross that bridge when I come to it.
First stop after leaving the dorms was the outfitter. Rank-and-file troopers might not have a lot of say in what they could wear, but one of the benefits afforded to more powerful Scarlet Guardians -no matter their level of experience- was the freedom to customize their uniforms. Peach managed to assemble an outfit much more to her liking, something between a techwear coat and an elegant dress, complete with a tie. Even if some others might see a âbattle skirtâ as impractical, she appreciated the chance to express herself. If only she could get it in pink, since the standard Psych-OSF colors seemed to be almost completely red, black, and gray.
She headed out from the outfitter at a brisk place, having somewhere to be. The other Brain Message she got had been from someone familiar; Luka Travers. He invited her, Sakura, and Raz to join him for another meal at the Otherlobe cafeteria, so the princess made her way there quickly. The cafeteria resembled one familiar to Raz, but much larger in scale, and like everywhere else in the Otherlobe this morning it buzzed with activity. There were soldiers everywhere, scurrying around like ants as they made preparations, everyone galvanized into a state of urgency by the imminent operation. Peach found Luka at a table by one of the great glass windows with two strangers beside him.They both wore somewhat similar sleek outfits in typical OSF black and red, both with scarves and matching mask accessories, worn in their hair. The young man, though, sported red eyes with black sclera, decent musculature, angular features, a slight bluish tint to his fair skin, and a thick, x-shaped, metallic mark on his face. Meanwhile, the young woman sported long hair in a purple to yellow gradient, detached sleeves, soft features, a garment even more like a dress than Peachâs, a slight purplish tint to her dark skin, and a full figure.
âGood morning,â Luka greeted Peach. âPeach, this is Dexio and Sina. Dexio and Sina, Peach.â
The princessâs new acquaintance gave a wave and a smile. âHey there. The pleasureâs all mine. My power's Seismokinesis.â
âHi. Nice to meetcha,â Sina added. "My power is Cryokinesis."
âNow that youâve been assigned your platoon, you should get to know your teammates,â Luka explained.
Peachâs brows went up. âOh! Right, yeah, nice to meet you both. My power's Materialization. Guess weâll be working together!â She glanced at Luka. âThatâs five total, right? Do you know who our platoon leaderâs going to be, Luka?â
âActually, thatâd be me,â the young man told her, looking a little embarrassed. âCommandâs always been pressuring me to take up leadership, especially since I used to be Septentrion 6th Class, back before our merger with the Psychonauts. Needing more platoons for Scour mustâve been as good an excuse as any, and after I vouched for you three, they must have thought youâd be a good fit on my team.â
Dexio grinned. âOh, no need to be so bashful, Luka. Everyone knows youâre our ace in the hole. Hereâs to Luka Platoon, eh?â
âOh, I wish you wouldnât call it that. I donât want anything to be different between me and my peers, if I can help it.â Luka glanced at Peach again. âOh, please, help yourself to the breakfast buffet. Weâre going to need all the energy we can get for today.â The little guy had a heaping plate of high-protein pancakes and eggs to get through anyway, and he wasted no time following his own advice. Dexio and Sina, without anything to eat of their own, stood to accompany Peach to the line for food.
Level 11 Tora (148/110) Level 12 Poppi (38/120) Level 4 Goldlewis (9/40) Goldlewis, Tora and Poppi, Roxasâ @Double, Karinâs @Zoey Boey, Midnaâs @DracoLunaris, Pitâs @Yankee, Susie and Blazermateâs @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichiâs @Multi_Media_Man, Benedictâs @Dark Cloud Word Count: 3112 + 628/458
Unlike a number of their companions, both Tora and Poppi enjoyed a good nightâs sleep in their little nook. While she did not require rest to function, the artificial blade could employ her built-in sleep mode to bypass the boredom of waiting and awaken alongside her Masterpon when morning finally arrived. Since yesterdayâs events amounted to nothing more than excitement, exercise, and beating up baddies, even if he himself got a little more beat up than he would have liked, Tora slept soundly. He did not oversleep, however, and after a full eight hours roused both himself and Poppi from slumber. He wasnât a slovenly shut-in anymore after all, but a heropon, and with that mantle came certain expectations. With a yawn, Tora pushed open the closet door and waddled across the hall to peer through the windows. Not a glorious new day by any means, all overcast and rainy. The sound of footsteps behind him heralded Poppiâs arrival by his side, still in QT-Pi mode. She tousled his hair, eliciting a smile. Any day was a good day so long as he had Poppi.
First order of business for any newly-awake Nopon was, of course, breakfast. Midgarâs former Special Operations Unit had established their base of operations on just one floor of this unassuming office building, and with it being stark even in terms of a workplace, no food could be found on the premises. Despite the rainfall Tora and Poppi took to the streets, where they quickly found a small diner only too happy to serve a quick and affordable meal. The Nopon happily wolfed down the greasy, bloated sausages and watery eggs, then drank his fill of sweet, tangy orange juice, happily indifferent to its genuineness. Poppi just took in the smells and sounds of the diner, peering out into the rain as she wondered what the day might bring.
Once back at the office, Tora ran a quick diagnostic on his companion to see if he could tune anything up, but Poppi seemed to be in pretty good shape. They reviewed the spirits theyâd gotten from yesterday, which both declined to trade away. Jack Frost possessed a stature and bulbousness rather like Tora, but he didnât relish the idea of fusion, and also didnât want a strikerâhe needed no partner but Poppi. As for Chemtrail, he considered crushing it for an item, but then had a brainwave. Thanks to her fusion with that phantom Armor, Poppi Alpha already had a âheavy metal knightâ theme going for her, and the idea of making her even tankier sounded pretty good. Poppi agreed, and they set about making the dream a reality.
Spirit absorbed: Chemtrail The host has gotten taller, reaching the side of an adult. Her armor has gotten heavier with the thickest âshellâ parts gaining a chrome luster. Her shoulder-pads look like angry, yelling faces. Her lower legs are armored with especially heavy engine-boots with plenty of pipes, vents, and serrations. Her Drill Shield is now mostly chrome metal with serrated edges. This spirit confers the Power Riot Gun, allowing the Drill Shield she generates in this form to fire stronger, faster, more payloads with more stopping power but much smaller explosions, at a mana cost rather than using ammunition. This spirit also confers the Weakness Annul Light/Dark, preventing Poppi Alpha from using her Light or Dark core
Item acquired: Jack Frost Hat A royal blue cap with two zigzags on top. Anyone who wears gains Jack Frostâs strength: immunity to most elemental ice attacks
Poppi switched back to QT-PI Mode after. With it too wet outside to head out to the helipad, Tora decided the two of them should do some âtrainingâ in the meeting room while everyone else trickled in. This amounted to him attempting to follow along while Poppi practiced her new breakdance-inspired fighting techniques over in one corner, with comedic results, but the little guy kept at it until everyone was ready to begin.
After hopping up into the seat, he noticed an unfamiliar face at the table. Creased and wrinkled by many years of experience, with crowâs feet from plenty of laughter, Vernon looked serious but not unfriendly. âHello, friend!â Tora greeted him. He didnât need any introductions to know just what to call someone new.
âGood morning, son,â the former president said in reply.
Goldlewis offered a nod of respect to the Nopon inventor. âI hear you risked your neck for Giovanna last night, so to speak. You have my thanks.â He glanced at the secret agent in question as if to ask her if Tora had hers, too.
âMm-hm. She leaned back in her chair. Though pretty sure that things wouldâve been fine without Toraâs intervention, she appreciated his help all the same. Rei trotted over to shovel her head beneath Toraâs wing to be petted, which pleased him to no end.
Midna criticized the quality of the food offered, and shaky though it might be in terms of nutrition, Jessica did not smile upon the impâs feedback. âYou can have nothing if you prefer,â she deadpanned.
âIâm sorry we couldnât provide better accommodations for you all in general,â Vernon apologized, not eager for a squabble between the ladies. âWe havenât exactly been living the high life out here. Ever since our exodus from the Administration, weâve been keeping a low profile. Money is short, and most of what we make goes right back into operations.â
Giovanna shrugged with a sigh. âHow the mighty have fallen.â
With Vernonâs presence the level of formality in the room felt a bit higher, and it wasnât much longer before the meeting officially began. Like any good meeting it began with a retrospective about the road that led here, and the Seekers began recounting yesterdayâs events. Midna mentioned the Others first, and from experience Goldlewis knew that despite their bizarre appearances, those things werenât messing around. âReal tough cookies,â he commented. âSome of âem got powers, and they know how to use âem. The flyinâ electric ones and the slimy ones teamed up to electrocute me, and it hurt somethinâ fierce. I reckon we only seen the tip of the iceberg so far.â
Next she brought up the Chimeras, which in the veteranâs mind were the biggest problem by far. âBeinâ invisible and appearinâ just about anywhere outta those gates is bad enough, but that corruption is some scary shit. If the folks from Neuron werenât there, we mightâve all aberrated ourselves.â It was too easy to remember the screams of the poor people from last night as they transformed. Goldlewis didnât shiver or shudder or anything, but he shook his head in profound, brow-furrowed dissatisfaction. âWe canât take those bastards on. Not âtil we get some sort of countermeasure.â For now, he didnât dare say anything about the red spirit. He didnât know what it meant, and he wasnât sure if he wanted to know, either.
âRed matter corruptionâŠâ Poppi repeated, her tone grave. She examined the weird spirit carefully, but couldnât figure anything out other than it being, well, red instead of prismatic. âIf Neuron has the only cure, itâs worth looking into, but it definitely sounds like we should steer clear of chimeras for now.â
Juiced up on caffeine, Midna also recommended a course of action for today, which just so happened to be what Goldlewis favored as well. âThatâs what I figured weâd be doinâ,â he told everyone. âLuka mentioned it off-handedly, but it sounded like a real big deal. Some kind oâ massive joint operation with all the fixinâs, ordered by Administration higher-ups. Might be a good chance to learn more âbout both Psych-OSF and the Others, if theyâre gettinâ their hands dirty in Other territory. Plus, we oughta be there for our moles, in case things go south. I ainât gonna leave anyone behind if I can help it.â
He crossed his arms. âYesterday I procured a hideout in Seiran, real close to the lift up to Suoh. Nothinâ much happens around these parts, so Sector 7âs a good place to hole up, but if we want our finger on the pulse a base near Midgarâs beatinâ heart is what we need. Should be ready by now, too. I reckon my team should head over soon as we finish up here and get familiar with Seiran while waitinâ for details from the moles.â
Midnaâs offer to set up warp portals appealed to him greatly. âYeah, letâs do that,â he told her. âMuch as I like drivinâ the Patriot, itâs a real doggone trip to make twice or more a day.â
Next to make a suggestion was Roxas. He preferred the idea of eschewing the other factions at play in Midgar in order to go it alone, building up reputation and power through direct action. It sounded nice, but especially after he gave fictional detectives as an example, it sounded a bit fanciful too. âThat sound fun! As heropon, Tora very good at quests!â Tora seemed to be in favor, or at least enthused, and he piped out with an important question. âWhat is detective?â
Susie spoke up to rain on Roxasâ parade, reminding him that establishing such an agency would be a lot easier said than done. Goldlewis stroked his whiskers as Susie said her piece, then offered his own two cents. âGoinâ public is a risky move,â he mused. âItâs true we donât want anyone controllinâ us, but weâd be startinâ from scratch. Itâd take a hell of a lot of time, money, and patience. Assuminâ the powers that be just let it happen, or donât find out.â Karin was in agreement; the means to make something like this happen didnât come from nowhere.
Poppi held a knuckle to her mouth as she thought. âWeâre all for helping people as much as we can, and reaping whatever rewards we can get from them of course, butâŠremember what we were told about the Consuls yesterday?â She glanced at Tora for support, although she didnât necessarily expect him to recall. âIt seems like powerful enemies know what weâre up to now. Might be better to stay under the radar. Time probably isnât on our side.â
Once Susie mentioned hacking, Vernon pursed his lips. âHmm. Not to be a stick in the mud, but if youâre not psych-tech, you might have a rough time of it. Psynetâs known for being a tough nut to crack. Youâd need to access the city computer Arahabaki to even have a chance, and itâs under lock and key deep below ground underneath the Shinra building.â
Giovanna answered Blazermateâs concerns about the secret police. âActually, youâre not too far off the mark. Thereâs two kinds of Turk in General Affairs. The kind who work in the light, like Benedict here, who solve crimes, do paperwork, and goof around with G-men. Then thereâs the kind who work in the dark: my old buddies, the Auditors. You know, actual secret agents. I was with them before these guys scooped me up, and theyâreâŠwell, probably what youâd expect. Dangerous. Unscrupulous. And not anyone we want to come knocking.â
âSpeaking of dangerous, I donât suppose youâve heard anything from Raiden?â Vernon asked Giovanna.
The redhead sighed. âSadly, no. He split from us in Detroit. I donât mind him going off and getting killed by DespoRHado in some suicide crusade, but he knows enough to sink us if heâs compromised. I shouldâve kept him on a tighter leash...â
At that point, things took a turn. Vernon, Jessica, and Goldlewis had all been made aware that Benedict wasnât the only Unit Chief from General Affairs who knew about this place. Even as the meeting proceeded, all wrestled with unease at the possibility that Giovanna made a mistake. But now, rather than arriving with a horde of G-men or worse at his back, Zenkichi appeared with his daughter alone. She did not take kindly to the new company, but despite the outburst nobody took action. They all understood the telltale light in Akaneâs eyes, and could understand the anguish that must accompany Zenkichiâs position. Luckily, the Seekers could also help. Geralt suggested it and Roxas executed it, freeing the poor girl from Galeemâs grip. With that freedom came the typical mental overload, but Giovanna sent Rei over to nuzzle Akane, and as someone of comparable years Tora offered her his support. âMust be hard right now,â he said. âNothing make sense, meh. Just take easy for now.â He nodded his approval when Zenkichi got her a donut. âSweets make everything better, meh!â
As it turned out, Zenkichi hadnât come to this meeting empty-handed. Without warning he let loose a deluge of fresh information, including the announcement of a possible attack from the Machines today, which Public Security seemed happy to let fall on DespoRHado and the undercities. The news left everyone aghast, especially Goldlewis. âThat ainât good,â he summarized. âIt sounds PubSec ainât willinâ to call off the OSF op to put the Scarlet Guardians on defense duty. So theyâre leavinâ it up to DespoRHado to save the day, while also hopinâ they fail. The balls it takes to make a call like that.â He could only run his hand through his hair in consternation. âActually, I wonder if the intel that leaked to the Machines was about the op in the first place. Makes sense theyâd attack while the cityâs army is off cleaninâ out the olâ subway system.â
Zenkichiâs remarks about Public Security interested the SOU personnel especially. After mentioning Akira Konoe and that the man hailed from his own world, the detective went on to explain just what PubSecâs head had gotten up to in the before-times, and it was nothing good. Under normal circumstances a story like that would have boggled the mind, but the Seekers had no choice. They could only accept it and move on. As the conversation turned away from current affairs and more to a personal dialog between Zenkichi and Geralt, Vernon turned toward the rest of the table, his voice low.
âAkira Konoe is a member of Shinraâs cabinet,â he told everyone. âMy people left with me, so I donât know his personally. Only by reputation. Mara, head of Advanced Weaponry. Hojo, head of Research and Development. Wright, head of Urban Planning. The head of Time and Space DivisionâŠI forget her name, exactly, but sheâs some sort of erudite. And as you know, Konoe is head of the Public Security, which means it isnât just the police heâs in charge of. He is also the direct superior of Truman Zanotto, giving him the power to order around Psych-OSF. Aside from Shinra himself, heâs certainly the most powerful man in the city.â
Poppiâs brow furrowed. âSounds like someone weâll need to confront at some point. But before that, like Pit and Zenkichi said, we need to do something about this Machine attack. Are we splitting up again?â
Tora looked from her to Goldlewis, who slowly nodded. âSome back to Seiran, some back to Detroit? That seems likely. Nice as it was, looks like our little reunionâs gonna be a brief one.â He heaved a heavy sigh. âLeast weâll get to stretch our legs outside the city, eh?â
Vernon nodded. âWhile you all get out there, Jessica and I will look after things on the home front. Our talks with Bridges yesterday went well. Theyâre dispatching engineers today to set up nodes and get us hooked up to their Chiral Network. That includes your Seiran Hideout, once they contact you there. They can even renovate the place for you, make it liveable.â He paused for a moment, then added, âThe Chiral Network is a safer and more secure alternative to Psynet; we use phone glyphs for a good reason.â
âIf weâre done blabbing, we should get going. With so much ground to cover, weâll be lucky to get where weâre going before all hell breaks loose as it us,â Giovanna observed.
âRight.â Goldlewis stood. âWe got a busy day ahead of us.â Idly he wondered if the groups would be any different from last time. It sounded like Midna wanted to go to Seiran again and Karin would probably want to support her friend Sakura, but other than that he didnât know for sure.
Tora jumped down from his chair. âMeh-meh! What friends wait for then? To hero-mobiles!â
This time, Goldlewis and Giovannaâs cars rolled out in the same direction. With the chaos that had befallen the highways around Sector 7âs hub last night, and the veteranâs desire not to leave his hummer alone in Suoh long-term, he figured it would be better to go by rail. Both teams would be taking different routes from yesterday, in fact; while Goldlewis and his crew took a train to Seiran, Giovannaâs would be descending to the Sector 7 undercity. Being Detroitâs next-door neighbor and just as likely to take the brunt of a Machine invasion, albeit without DespoRHado for defense, those slums would be a lot easier to operate in. After parking and trooping over to the train situation, the division of Seekers between the Other and Machine Teams got finalized, and they bid one another farewell. âGood luck friends!â Tora called as those bound for Seiran boarded their maglev locomotive. He waved until they disappeared into the distance.
Rather than take up two seats on the train, Goldlewis stood at one end, forced by his impressive height to stoop slightly. In the course of his uncomfortable ride the veteran listened to the trainâs news broadcast. Most of it didnât matter much, but he did catch one interesting story. âAt this time, we can confirm the bombing of Mako Reactor 1 in Sector 1 at around one oâ clock this morning,â the newscaster reported. âThe destruction led to panic and chaos in Piltover as fires spread and authorities rushed to the scene. Their attempts to arrest the probable fugitives resulted in over two dozen casualties. Even the involvement of a Claw wasnât enough to bring them to justice. At this point no group has claimed responsibility for the attack, but thereâs only one name on the minds of the terrified populace: Avalanche. These terrorists are armed and extremely dangerous. Citizens are asked to report any suspicious activity they see today toâŠâ
Goldlewis removed his glasses in order to massage his temple. âAlways somethinâ,â he muttered. âAt least it was all the way over in Sector 1 instead of 7. Last thing Giovannaâs team needs right now is runninâ into Avalanche.â
From the moment Giovanna, Tora, Poppi, and the rest of their team arrived in the Sector 7 slums, they realized that even compared to Sector 8, it was a completely different beast. Detroit had the air of a run-down, burnt-out city, a boom town way past its prime desperately trying to cover up the odor of poverty and dereliction with a spritz of new-age glitz and glamor. One could almost believe it to be the home of a second technological revolution of robotics if one stuck to the shiny, metallic main streets and city center, but beyond that lay a hollow, crime-riddled husk of a metropolis. The Sector 7 Slums, meanwhile, offered no illusions; it was simply a sprawling expanse of threadbare, industrial destitution, mistakeable from a distance for one big dump. Instead of roads or gravel, it had dirt. The cluttered clusters of hovels, shacks, and shops were lucky if they were made of concrete or brick. Most were riveted together from rusty sheet metal. Everything was run-down and disorganized, slapped together as it became necessary rather than assembled with any plan in mind. After leaving the train station, Tora needed to climb over a pipe only halfway buried in the dirt road, which happened to be in use judging by the high-pitched scrapy noise it gave off. If one of those ramshackle trucks drove over it the wrong way, he figured it could easily burst the pipe and take out plumbing for the whole area, including a factory next to the train station. These slums made Detroit look pretty good, actually. At least the Plate above blocked out the rain, preventing the undercityâs floor from turning to mud.
Giovanna pointed the team in the direction of the undercityâs edge. âWeâre headed for Scrap Boulevard,â she declared. âUnlike Detroit, these slums donât have a real outer wall. That junkyard is the buffer zone where local militia and any androids or cyborgs deployed here hold the Machines off whenever they come knocking. We wonât have any trouble getting outside the city that way.â
âOnce we reach edge, what we do about Machines?â Tora asked. âStand guard until they show up, meh?â
âI was thinking weâd be more proactive,â Giovanna said. âIf we leave Midgar and take the fight to them, we might be able to nip anything going on in the bud, or at least find out more about them.â She crossed her arms. âPeople in this sector who donât commute elsewhere in the city to work probably make ends meet by salvaging, and the best loot is out in the valley of ruins. We should see if we can hitch a ride with a salvage crew. Theyâd probably have some way to tell where the Machines are while out there too, in order to avoid them.â
Poppi nodded. âMakes sense. Youâre very knowledgeable, Giovanna.â
âEhh. Iâm too lazy to go and figure all this out myself,â she said, shrugging. âItâs people like the twins who actually go and learn this stuff.â With a goal in mind, she began to saunter down the dirt road in the direction of the cityâs edge. Tora and Poppi followed behind, keeping their eyes out. To the left stood a hostel cafeteria, one of the only buildings in sight with glass in it, and down the way on the right stood a bar and restaurant called Seventh Heaven, but it wouldnât be open until lunchtime at least. All these people, just trying to make it day today, and any minute now they might find their meager home under attack by rampant robots. Tora clenched his wing. A true heropon wouldnât rest until he knew these people were safe.
The train ride to Seiran took some time, as well as an interesting route. With the Sector 6 undercity, Deep-Paris, being a massive mass of earth and architecture, the train spent most of its time in dark tunnels until it suddenly emerged into the muted light of the rainy day. Suddenly the vehicle was rattling over the murky Sector 5 reservoir on a track held up by tall metal support struts, hundreds of feet above the water. In this fashion it cruised in toward one of the biggest buildings, and when it reached it it ascended in a spiral path around its edge to the train station.
Seiran took the form of a few dozen skyscrapers that rose from the reservoir all the way up to the plate, connected together to form a many-tiered array of bridges, rooftops, and balconies. Its dark upper levels shone with the perennial glow of countless streetlamps that interspersed the railings of countless walkways. Things were nicer the higher up one -and the closer to Suoh- one was in Seiran, especially near the giant cargo lift that marked Seiranâs economical center. Conversely, the lower one went -and the closer to the reservoir- the filthier and less hospitable things became. No boats sailed those fetid waters; no edible fish or potable water could be extracted from it, and nobody in his or her right mind would immerse in it. Yet a number of the poorest, least human, and most outcast elements of the city congregated in camps at the foot of those skyscrapers, sunken too deep to ever rise again.
Goldlewis and the team stuck to the upper part of Seiran, where a crisp wind blew across the high-altitude boardwalks to play with the hanging lanterns and umbrellas of the outdoor markets, pavilions, promenades, and food courts. Their objective was the former clinic just a couple bridges away from the cargo lift, half of it yellow, half of it blue, and all of it for the Seekersâ exclusive use. Goldlewis planned to stick around to meet up with the Bridges contacts and get the place developed for use as a proper hideout, but the others could explore around Seiran or even ascend to Suoh. If they were going to help with the Psych-OSF operation, they needed to know more about when and whereâand preferably how the trio that joined the Scarlet Guardians were doing, as well.
Even among the many tall buildings of the Home of Tears, Habbo Hotel stood out as something special, and not just because of its bright orange, almost garish exterior. Sure, it might not be as high-falutin, exclusive, or aesthetic as the various premier places to stay in the Royal Quarter, but Nadia could appreciate its everyday comfort and broad appeal. When she awoke it might not be any brighter or less rainy outside than when she went to bed, but she felt refreshed and revitalized. The expensive suite sheâd secured with her ill-gotten gains also afforded her something new, something that she never wouldâve expected to get in a million years: room service.
After figuring out the phone, which took a lot longer than she would have liked, she ordered up a giant breakfast delivered not just to her door, but straight to her bed. A troop of Prinnies with ties waddled in on with silver platters, balancing precariously on their peg legs to deliver her a feast of eggs, sausage, and syrupy pancakesâall the protein and carbs she needed for another long day of constant exercise. Feeling like a princess, Nadia enjoyed the meal with gusto, drinking from her mug of coffee with her pinky finger extended and making a big show of daubing her face with a napkin after every bite.
Eventually she went downstairs. Behind her she left her suiteâs bedroom and bathroom a thorough mess of dishes, napkins, towels, perfumes, and shampoo bottles, smugly leaving the Prinny team to pick up after her. When she reached the front desk, she was wearing one of the hotelâs fancy, HH-embroidered, orange bathrobes beneath her black jacket, on top of her shorts and bra. A complimentary umbrella lay tucked under one arm. âGood morninâ,â she greeted the receptionist, a penguin with a tie. His nametag read âBergâ. âDâya know if any of my friends checked in after me last night? I let âem know Iâd be stayinâ here.â She gave a brief description of some teammates.
âOh, Ms. Fortune, good morning.â The penguin dutifully checked the register. âYes, one Queen Sectonia checked in after asking about you. As did one Mr. Dragmire, Ms Faden, young Mr. Omori, Ms Azelhart, the Koopa familyâŠâ
âOh, the others made it here too? How lucky is that!â Nadia grinned, glad that her breadcrumb trail had worked better even than she could have imagined. âCould I leave a message for any of âem that come by? Just say Nadia wanted to get together again in the lobby here at, ohâŠâ She glanced at the clock on the wall. âNine?â
The receptionist jotted that down. âCertainly. By the way, someone left a message for you as well. Not you in particular, but anyone from âthe group of travelers who arrived in the nightâ.â
Nadia raised her brows, curious. âGo on.â Berg slipped her a letter, which she opened to read.
To whom it may concern: last night, one of my sentries witnessed your arrival from Ash Lake. Such an unauthorized intrusion upon the grounds of Gallo Tower would have been enough cause to raise the alarm, but I chose not to do so. Very few who tread upon the ashes of the Flower Garden live to tell the tale. I must confess myself intrigued by you, and what brings you to the Home of Tears. We may be able to help one another. Therefore I would like to meet. Seek the tower overlooking the Collection with windows that glow an ethereal whiteâthe Soul Sanctum. Be aware that it is home to wretched things that will no doubt attempt to hinder your ascent. I will be waiting in the highest room.
-IGV
After a moment Nadia scratched her head, a perplexed look on her face. âI havenât the foggiest idea what this dudeâs talkinâ about. Guess Iâll bring it up at the meetinâ.â She put the paper in one of her new leather pouches and clasped it tight. Before turning to go, she glanced back at the penguin. âOh! One last thing. Didja see any polar bears?â
âPolar bears?â The receptionist rubbed the underside of his beak with a flipper. âI donât think so, no.â
Nadia grinned. âMakes sense. You guys are âpolarâ opposites after all.â
After blinking for a moment, the penguin gave a weak sigh. âMs. Fortune, itâs too early in the morning for puns.â
âHey, just breakinâ the ice!â Nadia said indignantly before giving a sly wink. â...Berg!â
She sped out of the hotel cackling, opening her complimentary umbrella on the way. With plenty of money still in her pocket, Nadia knew just where she wanted to go before the team reunited to figure out what their next step would be: Seamâs. The feral made a beeline through the rainy streets to where she remembered that distinctive stitched-together tent being last night, and after only a couple wrong turns she managed to find it. It seemed a lot bigger than she remembered, though. Upon entering, she found herself surrounded by all sorts of random odds and ends, including a whole host of living plushies.
âHee hee. Welcome, traveler,â a voice said from the far end of the store, drawing Nadiaâs attention away from the strange assortment of goods. At the back on a colorful patchwork rug sat a purple and orange cat with a sutured face and a single spinning button eye.
How fun! Nadia made her way over to crouch in front of her fellow feline. âSeam, I presume?â she said with a smile.
âHehe, yes. The name's Seam. Pronounced âShawmâ. And this is my little Seap. Ha ha ha haâŠâ
The feral grinned. âThatâs pretty goodâŠâ
âOver the years, I've collected odds and ends,â Seam continued. Course, I've no attachment to any of it. It's just a hobby of mine.â
âSounds good to me. Iâm looking for a new weapon, and you can have these, too. Anchors from the eastern seaboard!â She set Massachusettsâ broken-off anchors down before him. âI used âem as axes, but I figured I could do better, so I thought Iâd âaxe around.â
Seam accepted the anchors and gave a small handful of Geo in return. âThanks for that. What do you like to buy?â
âOh, havenât decided yet. Iâll take a look around.â
âTake your time... Ain't like it's better spent,â Seam chuckled.
Nadia poked around the shop. Perhaps thanks to the City of Tearsâ mostly peaceful nature, there werenât a lot of weapons, but she kept digging. Pawn shops like this were probably regular stops for any adventurers who came through, hoping to get something for all the loot they gained in their adventures that they didnât need or want. Even a valuable piece of equipment might be useless to someone who couldnât use it, after all. Sure enough, she got her hands on a couple pieces of weaponry, like a big shuriken, a sour battle-axe, and a heavy bone hammer clotted with blood, but nothing struck her fancy until she unearthed a metal case with two protruding handles. They looked like pistols, but they didnât have any barrels or anything, and when she drew one from the case she laid eyes on a segmented blade that extended from the deviceâs underside. âBox cutters?â she murmured. Thatâs what they looked like, but they were huge. When fully drawn and held upside-down, with the trigger below her pinky, it was basically a sword. Pushing in the trigger detached the blade from the grip, though reattaching it was easy enough. After shaking the case itself, Nadia realized that it must contain extra blades. Two swords with replaceable blades, eh? âNot bad.â She took the weapon over to Seam.
âKagari Rokushikisouken,â Seam said when presented with the weapon. Confronted by Nadiaâs baffled expression, the cat explained. âThe paired swords, hee hee hee. Fell out of the sky one day, probably sunk to the bottom of the lake up above and through one of the cracks. Everything that ends up here has its story, whether or not anyone still lives to tell it, hee hee.â
Nadia ended up paying a lot for it, which on top of her previous expenses cut a pretty big hole in her new funds. Easy come, easy go, she supposed. She slung the case over her back and put the grips in her belt, reasoning that when it came time to use them she could whip them out and insert a blade in each of them before the fight began. Lighter, longer, easier to use, and more versatile than the anchors, the box cutters (sheâd already forgotten their full name) seemed very promising, and she couldnât wait to try them out. After that, Nadia hurried back the way she came. It had to be close to nine by now. No matter what came of the Seekersâ reunion, she expected sheâd get to use her new swords soon enough.
Item acquired: Kagari Rokushikisouken A pair of grips, designed to be triggered when held in a reverse grip, and a case with twenty-six disposable segmented blades with a single razor edge. The blades can be inserted into the grips easily and quickly, and detached with a squeeze of the triggers. These âbox cuttersâ ae dexterity weapons that can slash, stab, and sever with speed and finesse, leave their blades inside stabbed targets, or send them flying with a well-timed trigger pull
Once the whole fiasco with the Flame Clock subsided and the rest of the Seekers learned all they could from Asgore, all that remained was to heed his advice and descend to the fabled Home of Tears. Barnabee, for one, did not prolong the teamâs visit at the ashen hollow a second longer than he needed to. On one hand he couldnât realistically count himself as a member of this group just yet, which meant he could neither speak on their behalf nor know the questions to which Asgore might have answers. On the other hand, this place just gave him the creeps. It did not escape his notice that the home of this âgrim reaperâ, as he called himself, lay carpeted in drifts and dunes of ash quite unlike the sand of the sandback he traveled across. Given that bodies turned to cinders shortly after expiration, just how much life had the former king claimed for the Home of Tears? How many deaths did it take to amass such a massive congeries of ash? The fact that poisonous yellow flowers, cheerfully and innocently vibrant in color, bloomed from the mass grave only formed the nail in the coffin. Barnabee exited Asgoreâs domain before anyone else.
âWhat a dangerous fellow,â he buzzed. âProvided that all he saith be truth, he wouldst make for a monumental foe should he ever crack beneath that burden of his and lose his wits. He certainly harbors both the strength and the reason to do so.â The Hive Knight rubbed his hands, still on edge. âI can but wonderâŠwere that Flame Clock not quite so full, but closer instead to depletion, would he have attempted to strike us down upon meetingâŠ?â
It took only a few moments to locate the pipe that the old goat told them about. It wasnât hidden at all, only tucked away in an unexpected place. There wasnât much to it; a green tube a few feet in diameter simply poked up from the ashy sand, with a lip a bit thicker than the rest of it. Seeing the gray splotches around the tube conjured images in Barnabeeâs head of terrified foes attempting to flee Asgore only to be cut down before reaching this exit. He shivered, and with a final look around at the unbelievable environment of Ash Lake, hopped down into the pipe. Upon entering, he began to be pulled through the dark interior of the pipe at high speed as if by suction, never banging against the sides even as he went around twists and turns. Alarmed but a little exhilarated, he could only wait for the ride to end.
He did not expect the pipe to suddenly expel him out into pitch-black water, wheeling around in panic as he attempted to determine which way was up. After a second, however, the motion triggered a handful of lights, most of them built into the lakebed below but a few searchlights as well that automatically rotated to track the new arrivals. Barnabee and the other Seekers found themselves in a roughly cylindrical basin, filled with other pipes, metal supports, and fish small enough to not trip the lights. Most unusually, a diagonal curve of what looked like a racetrack seemed to be immersed in here, but right now everyoneâs primary concern was getting out. Barnabee swam upward and after a moment surfaced. The basin they arrived in turned out to be a rather deep artificial pond, set in a courtyard of stone brick walls and glowing fungal gardens. In fact, the Seekers had made it to yet another gigantic cavern, so huge that an entire city of blue-black stone and a chitin masonry and wrought iron could stretch out around them. The area around them seemed to be rather aesthetic and upper-class, awash in a soft, comfortable pink glow. Tallest of all stood the huge, magical-looking clock tower right in front of them, with its massive double doors directly ahead of the bridge that spanned their pond. At the other end of the bridge lay an archway, the dividing line between the property of Gallo Tower and the rest of the Royal Quarter. Pounding rain poured down from above, which they knew must be from Ash Lake given its position. The team had reached the Home of Tears.
When Ae went on the offensive and kicked things off, Band followed suit. While the decrepit market didnât offer a lot of great cover for anyone, what little it had and could be made use of by the others would have utterly failed to conceal the giant gumshoe, so he took refuge somewhere else. After trading a couple blows with Red, Stryker suddenly noticed saw the cool afternoon sunlight pouring down on him through the gaping hole in the roof go dark. âThis oneâs mine.â The manâs head snapped up in time to see Band descending on him like a meteor, tambourine extended.
âShake, shake!â he called, whirling the instrument like a buzzsaw. Unable to anti-air in time, Stryker blocked the three hits with a grunt, and with the low recovery afforded to him by his choice of a light attack, Band landed beside him ready for more. âBlackâŠâ Raising his other leg, the detective deployed a trombone to hit going and coming with Pneumatic Slide. â...and blue!â His foe kept his guard up, so Band decided to take him by surprise. ââFew!â From beneath his billowing trench coat he thrust an array of organ pipes, but to his surprise Stryker reacted to Low Rank appropriatelyâby crouching down to block low. That left him with more than enough time to punish Band with the three-hit combo Pain Patrol. As Band stumbled back, the cop followed up with a grenade at his feet, with only a brief delay before its explosion would enable Stryker to pull off an ambiguous mix-up.
But to Band, this sort of trick wasnât anything special. He hopped up and a blue flash he parried both the grenade blast and Strykerâs overhead punch. âUh huh.â Already overextended, the cop couldnât do much but jump backward to safety before the detectiveâs cymbals clashed together inches from his face. As Stryker composed himself, Band permitted himself a wry smirk. âWhy donât ya show yourself out, mister? This is one beat youâre better off missinâ.â
Stryker reached for his gun, thought for a second, then slipped his baton from its holster. âThe bigger they are, the harder they fall.â
âYou first. Giant Step!â Band deployed an enormous drum pedal and slammed it into the ground. Though out of its range, Stryker blocked low just to be safe, only to fall prey to the special moveâs unblockable quake. It not only knocked him off his feet, but pulled him closer to Band, who was ready with Take the A Train. He lunged forward and caught Stryker inside his brass arm, pounded it twice, then released him straight into a flurry of instrumental attacks that ended with Super-Sonic Jazz. Propelled by blasts of sound from his french horn, blazed across the supermarket battering Stryker the whole way, and burst out into the street to continue the fight with a sizable life lead.
Nightingale, whoâd taken cover at the first sign of trouble, rose up to open fire on Band with his shotgun while his back was turned. It was a clean shot through the hole left by Super-Sonic Jazz, but as Nightingale lined it up, Albedo sprang off the nearby countertop to drive his boot into the former FBI agentâs face. âAgh!â he grunted, quickly returning the favor and bodily kicking the alchemist to the ground as the much smaller man swung his sword. His shotgun unleashed its thunderous report, and though hastily aimed, it still managed to deal a heavy wound to Albedoâs right thigh. His face tightened, but he made no sound, and with the help of a Solar Isotoma he rose to his feet. A charged attack augmented further with the Isotomaâs coordinated attack staggered Nightingale enough to prevent a second blast once he pumped his shotgun. Albedo attempted a deadly reprisal with a thrust to center mass, but his bladeâs point stuck on his foeâs ribs. It was a dangerous and volatile situation for both of them, but more so for Albedo, and he knew it. âMoment of birth!â he rasped, unleashing his stored Geo energy to call forth a Tectonic Tide and level the playing field. The shotgun flew from his enemyâs hands as the crystalline expulsion knocked him back, but immediately he reached for his pistol. Albedo grit his teeth and moved in. If he could keep Nightingale suppressed he could steal victory, but one wrong move would mean a bullet somewhere he couldnât afford to have one. This was going to be tough.
Sector 8 Lower Level 11 Tora (144/110) Level 12 Poppi (34/120) Susie and Blazermateâs @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichiâs @Multi_Media_Man, Benedictâs @Dark Cloud Word Count: 1862
With one of the teamâs primary offensive powerhouses temporarily out of commission thanks to Chemtrailâs status, both Benedict and Blazermate -who in a stroke of good fortune managed to beat the odds and avoid a random status herself- were of like mind and hurried to awaken her, one through conventional means and the other with the ailment-cleansing Revival Protocol. Unfortunately, their lack of communication resulted in two issues. The pairâs efforts proved to be redundant as the former Turk managed to rouse Poppi from her forced slumber without any special means, which meant that Blazermateâs efforts were wasted in such a crucial moment. Second, because she favored Poppi over Tora, that left the two-foot Nopon all by himself standing bravely before the three-headed chrome monstrosity, with nothing but his hammer and his natural bulk to his name.
âMASTERPON!â Poppi cried out as she jolted awake, but she was too late to stop the shadowâs assault. It fired off Riot Gun three times. The first resulted in a painful but not serious glancing blow as Tora threw himself sideways in a clumsy and desperate to dodge. From there he could only try to block the second shot, but his new hammer did not a shield make. The weapon flew from his wings as the brutal round slammed into him, bowling him over backward. Then the third shot pounded his unprotected back, and the Nopon flew away like a fastball in a spray of blood. He smashed through a second-story window into a nearby apartment complex.
âNO!â Both female machines took to the air, but in different directions. Thinking that she could safely ignore her other allies and Chemtrail to save it for last, Blazermate flew over to help Susie in her one-on-one with Loup-Garou. In so doing she also left Giovanna behind, teeth gritted as she hauled herself to her feet the poison that coursed through her veins untreated. Poppi, meanwhile, zoomed after her Masterpon. She wanted nothing more than to carve Chemtrail into slag, but she couldnât leave Toraâs fate uncertain. In a blink she disappeared into the same hole Tora crashed through, and she found herself in a small apartment. Judging by the noise, the inhabitants had already taken shelter from the chaos outside in the bathroom. It looked like Tora hit the dining table on entry, cracking it in half, then proceeded to tumble clean to the other side and into the closet. There he lay in a pile of wooden debris and ruined clothes, wounded and still.
Her face aghast, Poppi hurried over to cradle him in her arms and run a quick scan, only to vent the excess steam from her pounding core with a shaky sigh of relief. Heâd survived the direct hits with health to spare. As bad as it looked, his internals werenât compromised, and now that he was out of combat heâd already started to regenerate thanks to his recovery Power. Poppi hurried to brush him off. âYou okay?â she asked. âYou scared the ether out of me. That was too risky! You could have died!â
âMeheheh,â Tora chuckled. âAm fine, not even need second wind. Hurt less than dragonpon step on Tora, that for sure.â
Sighing, Poppi stood up and turned toward the window. âJust promise me, if it ever looks like itâs too much, you wonât pull something like that again. At least not without a real shield.â
âBut if Tora not, friend Giovanna get shot instead, and only Tora tough enough to take shots like that, meh!â her Masterpon countered.
âGiovannaâŠ? Uh oh.â Poppi took off in a sprint and dove back through the window, activating her thrusters. While Blazermate and Susie dealt with Loup-Garou, and Geraltâs match against Zenkichi neared its conclusion, Giovanna had been facing Chemtrail by herself.
More accurately, she faced Chemtrail with Rei. Accompanied by her wolf spirit, the secret agent moved like the wind she dashed back and forth in a zigzag pattern just faster than the metallic menace could react, coolly ignoring the asphalt shrapnel that exploded mere feet behind her. She and Rei slid into melee range with a maximum-range sweep that knocked one of Chemtrailsâ feet out from under it, but the shadow wouldnât be so easily displaced. It unleashed a salvo of shots at point-blank range but Giovanna burned some tension to negate the chip damage as she blocked with Faultless Defense. âMeh-meh!?â Tora murmured in awe of the feat as he and Poppi swooped in. âHow Gi-Gi even better blocker than Tora!?â
âJust help her!â Without enough time to find and fetch his hammer, Poppi handed him the Variable Saber, then blasted downward to strike Chemtrail in its central face with a kick. She popped Tora up so he could fall with a plunging stab and sink the plasma blade into the top of Chemtrailâs engine. Cursing, the shadow leaned back to blast off an upward shot at Poppi, but she was already on the move. She fired her revolvers as she circled around, although once she realized her Dark element was completely useless she changed gears. Instead she focused on keeping ahead of the next two Riot Gun shots and distracting the monster long enough for Tora to change saber modes and unload shotgun blasts straight down at point-blank. With a growl Chemtrail turned its attention to bucking Tora off, which in turn gave Giovanna -now behind her foe- a great opportunity.
She sprinted into its legs as if in a futile attempt to shove it off its feet, but she had a different goal in mind. Nothing built up tension as fast as running straight toward her opponent, and even if she wasnât going anywhere, this counted. After a moment she reached maximum, and her appearance changed as Reiâs power infused her. Her eyes went white as her skin and hair began to glow. Right after Chemtrail dislodged Tora, Giovanna went on the offensive with Burst Time. She slammed the earth with an electrified ground pound, then launched upward with three blazing backflip kicks. The sudden force to the top-heavy terrorâs back nearly caused it to stumble forward, and as it whirled around it caught a glimpse of Giovanna at the apex of her jump. Then she zoomed downward with a divekick of her own. She not only managed to knock Chemtrail onto its back, but dragged it across the street, carving a furrow like a fiery plow. A Sol Nascente flip kick strong enough to launch the likes of Potemkin actually managed to make Chemtrail airborne. She leaped skyward after it, electrocuting its body on contact with crossed arms until it lost momentum, at which point Rei manifested above it to kick it back down to earth. On impact it left behind a crater in which it lay for a moment, taken aback by the secret agentâs strength and the power of her combined technique.
Giovanna landed beside the crater. âHow about it?â she asked nonchalantly as Tora and Poppi approached, ready to finish the monster off. Blazermate was back too, although nobody looked very pleased with her. It seemed like Giovanna had managed to fight through the poison, though. âI call it Dança do Vento Ardente.â
Before the duo could reply, Chemtrail didâby casting Megidolaon. The Seekers ran for their lives as a cluster-bomb of Almighty explosions went off in Chemtrailâs vicinity. Tora, Poppi, and Giovanna avoided the worst of it, but they all took some hefty damage. âHell of a last resort,â Giovanna hissed. âWeâd better finish this!â
âOn it!â Flying through the chaos, Poppi switched to her Fire Core, then positioned herself diagonally above Chemtrail. Blazermate joined her to empower her with crits, and after a moment Poppi raised hell. âNoponic Axiom!â she cried, unleashing her accumulated power in a brilliant beam of flame. The torrential inferno both damaged and superheated the shadowâs metal body, softening it up, and with its attention on Poppi it didnât notice Tora and Giovanna approaching from either side. Together they struck with a saber slash and wolf kick, carving through the knees holding its heavy body up. With a furious bellow, Chemtrail hit the ground, immobilized. In quick succession, the three Seekers finished it off with one final blow each to its three faces. Then the shadow melted away, and the fight was over.
In the aftermath of the fight everyone recovered as quickly as they could. Poppi recovered Chemtrailâs spirit, while Tora took Jack Frostâs. Though brief, it had been a furious confrontation with no small amount of collateral damage thanks mostly to Chemtrail, and it wouldnât be long before others -most likely DespoRHado- got involved. The Seekers needed to skedaddle, but thatâs where things got interesting. In the course of his contest against Zenkichi, Geralt utilized a Friend Heart to both end the fight and free the Persona user from Galeemâs influence. The results spoke for themselves; Zenkichi was not happy. The double-whammy of realizing his daughter might be in danger and that a past enemy of his now worked as his superior left Zenkichi reeling, but the team didnât have time to pick up the pieces.
âItâs a long story, and weâre a little short on time right now,â Giovanna told him. She pointed out a sky-line nearby as a way to escape the scene, and pulled out her sky-hook in preparation to use it. âIt sounds like youâre worried about your kid, so do whatever you need to do. But we can tell you everything you need to know about the state of the world, and how to fix it. Come and find us tomorrow morning.â She quickly recited the address of the S.O.U. building in Sector 7. âIâm trusting you here. The you that Benedict here seems to trust in. I know itâs a lot to think about, but give us a chance to prove weâre the good guys. Donât screw us.â With that, she took off running for the sky-line, and the other Seekers had little choice but to follow.â
Once a safe distance from prying eyes and DespoRHado enforcers, the Seekers headed back to the train station. By the time night fell across Midgar they were well on their way back to headquarters, destined to arrive there before the Suoh group with no knowledge of what had befallen the other team until Goldlewis called in to give his unbelievable report. Not long after that Karin, Roxas, Midna, and Pit arrived via Neuron helicopter, disheveled and wide-eyed from everything theyâd seen and been through. Despite their curiosity, Tora and Poppi were in agreement: catching up could wait until tomorrow morning. With space on the couches limited, the two spent the night swaddled in blankets in a closet, Tora resting safe and secure in the lap of his beloved companion. He dreamed of many things, but never in his wildest dreams did he conceive of what the morrow would bring.
Goldlewis awoke at six oâclock on the dot, not because he wanted to, but because that was when he woke up. No matter what time he went to bed, or the events of the night before, the clock in his head retrieved him from slumberland at six oâclock in the morning. It had been that way for decades now. Just a part of aging, he supposed. He couldnât go back to sleep either, but today at least he lay awake in bed for a little while longer. Not that his apartment could be called very comfortable. No matter where he went, Goldlewis tended to find that people simply built things too small, and in this particular corner of the Sector 7 Plate he barely squeezed in. So most days he didnât find it too hard to roll out of bed, but today was not most days.
Not after yesterday, his first real day as a member of the Seekers who bravely chose to fight for the freedom of all people from Galeemâs dominion, and only in the crisis of that evening did he really begin to understand what that meant. Heâd been away from the frontlines too long. Just as he had back in America, heâd gotten so concerned trying to handle things from the top down that his life as a soldier, fighting firsthand against the enemies of humanity, had receded into the distance. Yet those days never truly left him. Even if his mind grew hazy, his body rememberedâmuscle memories drilled into him, and the ache of old scars. A younger man, fresh from his first battle, might have gone the whole night without sleeping a wink, his mind awash with the horrors of war. But Goldlewis slept like a log the whole night. This wasnât his first rodeo, not by a long shot. Whatever the enemy, whatever the casualties, whatever the consequences, if Goldlewis Dickinson meant to fight, he would take everything he could get. In this case that meant six straight hours of shuteye, from the moment he parked his hummer out front and fell into bed until the moment his mental clock woke him up. And now, it was time to go. Another long day no doubt awaited him.
He showered, styled, and dressed with well-practiced efficiency, and soon set out for headquarters. It was still dark out and starting to rain, but his beloved vehicle hummed contentedly as he drove along the streets. Just by looking at it one would never guess that his Patriot Mammoth had sustained tremendous damage just last night, its sides scraped, its windows shattered, its rubber burnt, and its body poked full of holes, but living in this composite world had its benefits. The most successful mechanics in Midgar cornered the market with absurd turnaround time on repairs no matter how severe the damage, all thanks to miraculous âpickupsâ that looked like holographic wrenches, floating in the air. The simple act of driving a broken-down vehicle into one, as long as it still retained some semblance of function, fixed it right up in the blink of an eye. Such services didnât come cheap, of course, but for the Mammoth? Anything.
By seven-thirty, Goldlewis sat himself down in the S.O.U. office meeting room, his spot at the table the same as it had been yesterday afternoon. On the table lay two boxes of doughnuts, courtesy of him, and twelve black coffees, courtesy of Jessica McCarney. After arriving a little on the later side, Giovanna claimed one of the coffees before plopping down on a bean bag with Rei. All the action from yesterday had taken its toll on her previous outfit, so today the secret agent showed up in a similar but different outfit, minus the tie and glasses but plus her trademark shoes. If things were going to get even rowdier going forward, she probably figured that having more than one button might be a good idea. StillâŠ
âWhenâre you gonna button that thing up all the way?â Goldlewis asked idly. âIt ainât professional.â
Giovanna shrugged. Her comrade got the impression this wasnât the first time sheâd been asked. âHow else am I gonna catch a good man?â
The pairâs chat came to an end when a familiar face entered the room. Though stout, bald, and sporting a white chinstrap beard, the man possessed a certain magnetism, and he wore a smile on his face. âGood morning,â former president Vernon Groubitz told them, helping himself to a doughnut. âRead your reports on the way over,â he told them evenly after taking a bite. âOne afternoon with our new friends, and it sounds like youâve already gone through hell.â
âWe seem to have a knack for findinâ trouble,â Goldlewis sighed.
âAnd sticking our fingers in a whole lot of pies.â Vernon took a coffee as well, then seated himself, crossing his legs. âGangs in Detroit. People going undercover in Psych-OSF. A new base in Seiran. Some sort of big operation this morning? And not one, but two Turks freed from Galeem, possibly defecting to our side! Making waves, hmm?â He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. âIâm eager to finally meet our new friends. Weâve got a lot of catching up to do.â
Goldlewis nodded as he reached for a doughnut himself. âYou bet your britches we do.â
Plumb tired though she was, Nadia made her way back out of the Royal Quarter with a pep in her step. Few things lifted her spirits in the same way as a good old-fashioned wad of money just burning a hole in her pocket. It meant the best eats, drinks, and comfort she could find for the remainder of the night and as long as she could laze around tomorrow morning before things got rolling again. Was this indulgent of her? Maybe, but with how often she put her neck on the line nowadays, she felt she had more than earned her just rewards. If anything, after making it out of the Dead Zone, Kosmâs Beach, and now the Womb after as many days, she felt like a bonafide hero; surely she deserved to rest on her laurels, just a little. So she felt pretty unashamed about the prospect of lavishly spending her ill-gotten gains. The bigger issue, come to think of it, was whether or not a city for bugs and beasts would have feasts fit for a feral like her. All of a sudden all the different creatures sheâd spotted before ran through her head as she pictured the different kinds of monster chow this place might have in store. This matter perturbed her so thoroughly, in fact, that as she approached the long bridge between the Royal Quarter and Fountain Central, she didnât pay any attention to where she was going until too late.
Out of the blue she bumped into someone, lightly bonking her head on a metal exterior. âMeowch!â she squeaked, much more startled than hurt by the unexpected impact. Nadia backpedaled a couple steps reflexively, shaking her head in an attempt to snap back to reality. âSorry aboutâŠ:â
When she attempted to lay eyes on the person sheâd collided with she wound up with quite a shock. This stranger loomed over her like an ancient statue, tall and imposing in a suit of metal armor, lit from behind by one of the pink lanterns that adorned the districtâs arched entryway. Blue-scaled, with fins, fangs, and a red ponytail, this wasnât just a formidable warrior, but the guard Nadia spotted while on the prowl earlier. Her ears almost flattened out of defensive reflex, but despite her elevated heart rate the cat burglar managed to keep her composure. Nobody put on a brave face like Nadia Fortune, after all. She quickly cleared her throat. â...Sorry about that! Guess my head was in the clouds, nyaha!â
Undyne chuckled, laughing the accident off with no overt hostility, which in Nadiaâs experience was pretty rare for a keeper of the peace. âFuhuhu! There arenât any clouds underground, SILLY!â After a moment though, the eye not hidden behind her eyepatch suddenly narrowed. â...Hey! You arenât from around here, are you?â
At the big fishâs sudden change of tune, Nadia could help but bristle. â...What, a commoner like me canât visit the rich part of town, pininâ after the sweet life I could have one day long as I keep myself on the straight and narrow, like I have been?â
âHuh?â Undyne blinked, her brow raised. âI mean, you arenât a Home of Tears citizen, are you? Just saying, I think Iâd remember a face like yours!â
A mite embarrassed at having barked up the wrong tree, Nadia scratched her nose, putting on an apologetic face. âOhhâŠright, I gotcha. Uh, no, Iâm not. My friends and I just rolled in from the Womb, actually. After I got myself straightened out at that freaky sanitarium, I figured Iâd look around for somewhere to grab a bite, yâknow?â
Her mention of the Womb seemed to impress Undyne. âNot bad! That place is pretty tricky for normal people. ButâŠâ She rubbed her bald cranium as if to massage her brain into overdrive. âIsnât the Sanitarium downtown? Whatâre you doing in the Royal Quarter?â
Crap. âBecauseâŠâ Nadia stretched out the word as she held up her hands in resignation, trying to think of something. âIt was tooâŠexpensive? Yeah, thatâs it. I wanted to treat myself, but after cominâ over I realized I was flat broke. Blegh!â She smacked her palm against her head in a self-deprecating gesture.
Undyne nodded sagaciously. âAhh, makes sense!â Crossing her arms, she looked off into the distance. âMe, Iâm only here to keep an eye out. You know, thieves, burglars, such and such.â She leaned over Nadia, squinting. âYou see any out there?â
âMe?â With every fiber of her being Nadia attempted to portray the depths of her indignance. âNo maâam! Why, Iâm so straight-laced, the thought hadnât even crossed my mind!â
The announcement made Undyne crack a grin. âWow, that straight-laced? Sounds like a challenge to me! Nobody upholds the law better than the captain of the guard, just wait and see!â
Nadia couldnât help but giggle a little at this goofball. âIâll be rootinâ for ya. Go get âem!â
âThey wonât know what hit âem! Fuhuhuhuhu!â
Energized by the power of justice, Undyne took off running down the street through the rain, forcing her mermaid guards to race after her. Her direction was anyoneâs guess. Nadia turned to watch her go, but she thought of something before the fishwoman disappeared from sight. âOh, one more thing, miss sheriff, if you donât mind!â
Undyne skidded to a stop in a spray of water, causing a pileup with the mermaid guards. As they toppled over their captain whipped around. âOh yeah? Whatâs that?â
âIf you see anyone else not from around here, could you tell them somethinâ for me?â Nadia called after her. âMiss Fortune awaits at the biggest hotel in the city!â
âHuh? Something wrong with Habbo Hotel?â Undyne looked confused. âI mean, I donât know whoâd go looking for misfortune on purpose, but Iâll tell âem!â Then she ran off, with her entourage as close behind as they could manage, and with a smug grin Nadia went on her way.
With only a brief pause in Fountain Central, both to observe Corniferâs absence for the night and that strangely off-putting statue in greater detail, Nadia returned to the western downtown district. Even with her coat keeping her head and upper body mostly dry, she was beginning to get tired of the constant pounding rain, and she wanted nothing more than to hole up in a nice, cozy place and go to sleep. It wasnât difficult to spot the giant orange mass of the hotel Undyne mentioned toward the back of the district near the cavern wall, but before that she needed to hunt down somewhere to eat.
While looking around she noticed an open store in a big, burlap tent, held together by stitches and buttons. Called Seamâs, it seemed to be a pawn shop if the extra signage was anything to go by. She made a mental note of its location to pay it a visit later. While she didnât mind fighting with the anchors sheâd gotten from Massachusetts, their unwieldy combination of stubbiness and top-heaviness meant she could do a lot better in terms of melee weapons, and she might as well make a few extra coins off them. Hopefully Seamâs would have some other unwanted loot weapons lying around she could pick up in exchange. The Bait Launcher she planned to keep, of course. Not everyone got the privilege of being able to just blast a steak at some poor mook and summon a tiger to ruin its day.
In the end, the feral did manage to find a suitable restaurant: Definitely Not Fried Chicken. Despite the name, it did actually offer fried (as well as grilled and blackened) chicken, in addition to a few other options. Hardly a fancy affair, it bore the trappings of a typical sports bar, with snail races, swordplay, and pain olympics on TV, and a rough-and-tumble selection of customers. Perfect. Nadia grabbed a big basket of spicy wings and the biggest glass of beer the place could offer, then seated herself in a cozy corner. She planned to chow down all by her lonesome, but halfway through her second wing a lycanthrope showed up to say hello. He seemed eager to make a good first impression on account of her being a catgirl, but since Nadia was a dog person metaphorically and always happy to make new friends, she did not hesitate to accept his invitation to join his friends over at their table.
Over a round of drinks and a feast of chicken she soon got acquainted with the gang and their poultry-loving buddy Bob, who upon closer inspection Nadia realized was a pile of pink slimes in a trench coat. For a while, the feral could put her worries and cares aside and enjoy some simple pleasures with undiscerning, like-minded strangers, laughing and joking and telling stories. Nadia and the wolfman naturally played off one another, Drac served as the perfect straight man to the othersâ antics, the leprechaun was just a funny, boisterous guy, and Bob was a good listener. Although, Nadia also noticed the others on either side of him gathering pink crystals from around his chair every so often after he ate, and she couldnât help but wonder where they were coming from. It was almost eleven oâclock by the time DNFCâs employees shooed the gaggle of drunken monsters out the door. After a quick round of heartfelt goodbyes and goodnights, they all staggered off through the rain in different directions toward home. Nadia made her way to Habbo Hotel to check herself into a luxury suite for the night, and after dragging herself upstairs she could only toss away her coat before she collapsed into the freshly-made plush softness of bed. She was out like a light.
In a silence sullen Imogen went along, plodding after Sofia, Maive, and the others at a slight distance. For now sheâd had her fill of venting her suppressed frustrations, however much that actually made her feel better, but she didnât want Sofia thinking that everything was all hunky-dory just because the uproar died down, either. She took charge again and marched off toward the trees a little too readily for Imogenâs liking, as if sheâd personally averted the crisis and put her merry little band back on the road to sunshine, lollipops, and the power of friendship. Sofia hadnât done anything, though, and she hadnât earned anything. No matter whether the urge came out of self-centeredness or a misguided need to make up for her mistakes, if Sofia wanted to lead, she shouldnât except Imogen to follow.
Except this one time, but come on. Not like there was anything else to do.
Despite a total lack of communication or planning, the beachgoers reunited with the junglers almost immediately. The island was just that small. When them arrived she found Victor holding a branch as if to strike them, which earned him a scary look from Imogen. Go ahead and try it, eyelashes, her expression dared him. Apparently the others had been on the hunt for coconuts, an endeavor that thoroughly uninterested Imogen. Whether or not she found herself on a tropical island with scarce resources, she didnât feel any thirstier than when she arrived at that pier back in the real world. Of course, the others panicking to clean this place out of any resources they could find -regardless of them possibly being toxic or diseased- might pose an issue in the long run, but all that survival nonsense supposed that things here would be running on real world logic, which they obviously wouldnât be. By now Imogen felt one hundred percent confident in her âcoma dreamâ theory, despite it not completely explaining how it seemed to be simulated the behavior of random strangers she didnât know. Then again, dreams were like that anyways. She was probably just projecting, although that made the fact that her attempt to vent and relieve stress in her own imagination got shut down by an imaginary crybaby even more sad.
Regardless, she felt no need to start fires or weave hammocks from palm fronds. Those survival shows worked because the producers had medical teams off-camera to swoop in if anything bad happened. Even if one or two people here had a clue about how to prolong the inevitable, trying to make it feel like they were in control, they were ultimately powerless. As the others rested or busied themselves Imogen just leaned against a tree, waiting for the illusion to break down. Sheâd bet her bottom dollar that things were going to get screwy, and sooner rather than later.
Thanks to the lack of attention she paid to the other students, she noticed the strange silence within seconds of its manifestation. All of a sudden the soft washing noise of the surf formed the only natural sound within earshot. Oh, she thought, peering through the trees. There we go.
Even with the damage done to her glasses, Imogen noticed something big moving straight away, especially with all the lead-up provided by the tremors. From the moment she arrived here sheâd gotten the distinct impression that something was wrong with the water here. Normally the ocean should be the whole point of going to the beach in the first place, but this particular sea seemed to her less like a pleasant diversion and more like a yawning abyss, just waiting to pull her in and devour her if she immersed so much as a single foot within it. Like quicksand. But now this bizarre ocean, sick of waiting for people to enter its horror, had thrown something back, coughing it up from its deepest, most primeval recesses, far beyond human ken.
A sagging, warty, blobbish behemoth dragged itself up from the water, revealing its unnatural size one weighty heave at a time. Even as the water rolled off its back, its rugose skin still glistened, moisturized by a thick, sludgy film. Its great googly peepers lolled around in their sockets, all six of them, searching for food. Searching for them. Imogen shrunk down behind her tree, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and amazement as she tried to make herself as small as possible. âHahâŠhahahâŠ.â After all her theorizing, this was vindicationâbut at what cost? The hideous monster hurled its massive bulk through the air, slammed down on the sandy shore, and blasted the island itself with a guttural roar. Despite her fervent desire to not look as weak as Sofia, Imogen locked up and toppled over backward into the underbrush from the force of the awful sound, even if just for a moment. She then scrambled to her feet, all the manic energy that dwelled within her a few moments ago back with a vengeance. Imogen didnât need Capitaine Ăvident to tell her to run; she was off like a shot in the opposite direction, running as fast and as far away from the froggy fiend as possible.
With the teensâ departure from reality irrevocably proven, all bets were off. In the depths of Imogenâs probably coma, did that beast somehow represent the end? Death coming to take her? She didnât plan to find out. All she knew was that, however bad things might be, she didnât want to die. This island wasnât big enough to outrun that thing indefinitely. With its monumental girth it could knock down any tree she tried to climb. Imogenâs only hope was to flee, not get cornered on the far shore, and hope that monster plodded after someone else.
Though several of the newcomers seemed in a hurry to be on their way, or didnât think twice about some of their hostâs offhanded words and didnât care to delve further, Primrose convinced Asgore to share with them whatever knowledge might aid them in their quest. That meant gathering together around the hearth in the hollowâs center, surrounded by legendary weapons at the foot of the mountain of ash, able to crane their necks u; and stare up in wonderment as the turned throne before the violet Flame Clock that blazed on the colossal trunkâs inner wall. Everyone got the chance to take a warm drink in handy, despite most of the provided flavors being so earthy that only a dedicated herbivore might truly savor them, and for Teemo Asgore even managed to rustle up a couple cookies. They werenât the best, being made of decent ingredients but assembled shoddily, yet Asgore offered them as if they were his personal treasure. Then, with everyone assembled, he started to speak.
âIt all began when I was destoried,â he began. âBy F.â Despite his overall friendly demeanor, he practically spat out the letter. âI donât know much about him, even after all this time, but F is easy to understand. He has no soul, and canât feel love, or sympathy, or much of anythinâ worthwhile. Heâs a vicious sadist who gets his kicks tearing folks down, tricking them into ruining themselves, and cruel irony. Kill or be killed, as he says, golly. But this worldâs perfect for him. And sadly, for whatever reason, he took an interest in me.â
Asgore set his tea down and massaged his eyes with the palm of his hands as if to knead out the tiredness and pain. âSo, he destoried me. At the time, Iâd been installed as King for a couple years, ruling over these parts from the Home of Tears. It wasnât right, but I didnât know any better. Then I learned about the Clocks.â
Scratching his head, Barnabee raised one brow at his host. âThou mentioned a âFlame Clockâ once before, good fellow. To mine ears it sounded like a term of great import. What is it, pray tell?â
Lifting his head, Asgore glanced up at the gilded gauge on the wall. âThat big doohickey over yonder, see it? Thatâs a Flame Clock. Itâs the Home of Tearsâ clock, to be precise. But whatâs inside it isnât just fire. Itâs life, the life of the cityfolk down below.â
âIâm not sure I follow,â Barnabee confessed.
âHmm. Well, ask yourself this. All the people in the World of Light, what do they need to stay alive?â Asgore glanced between his guests. âWater? Food? You betcha. But what we need mostâŠis life itself.â He stared into the bonfire. âEvery minute of every day, everyoneâs burning up time. Weâre all made like matches, and we burn out quick. If youâve been traveling âround the world at all, you mustâve seen it. The fighting. The war. Endless conflict, no matter where you go. Taking each otherâs lives, with the taken flames becoming yours in turn.â A hollow laugh shook him. âNot you and me, of course. Without the Lifelight in our eyes, weâre free from the clocks. But we arenât really free, me least of all.â
He closed his eyes. âF told me that it was my punishment. Atonement for my sins. A chance to make things right, for once in my dang life. IâŠI never wanted to hurt anyone. Iâm not a bad person, butâŠbut sometimes, I have to do bad things. F brought me here and told me to feed the Flame Clock. All by myself. Put the lives of the entire city in my hands.â He held up his palms, the white fur stained black by ash. âIt meant the cityfolk could live in peace. Never having to hurt or kill anyone to get the lifelight they needed. Maybe I thought I really could atone by taking it all on myself. Do right by my subjects, for once. Not that I had a choice. I had no idea how bad itâd be. So much sacrifice.â
Barnabeeâs eyes widened. âBy the queenâŠIâve seen the Home of Tears in all its glory. It is home to thousands, perhaps tens of thousands! And this F forced thee to gather enough life for every one of them?â
âMm,â Asgore grunted, his expression cloudy. âI began with the Infection, and everyone it claimed. When the Infection died down to where itâs at now, I had to branch out. Lake monsters. Creepy crawlies Run after run after run of the Basement. Not to mention P, urgh. I try not to speak ill of anyone, but that boy ainât right. He moseys on up here to drink his fill whenever he feels like it, setting me back who-knows-how-many lives each time. Cleaning out weak liâl critters wasnât enough; I had to go out and hunt down the big game. Make a name for myself. Became a monster so legendary that kinds of hunters and adventurers started coming to me, for the ExP, the loot, or just the challenge. But none ever returned..â Asgore lifted up a handful of ash and let it drain through his fingers. âAll I wanted was to be a good king, but the Consuls made me the grim reaper.â
Barnabee shivered, suddenly glad that they hadnât picked a fight with the king. âHow long hast thou been doing this?â
âGoshâŠâ Asgore murmured with a miserable shrug. âToo long. After a while I quit counting the years. Sometimes I wonder if the Home of Tears down thereâs the same as I remember, but Iâve never gone back. Donât deserve it. Thereâs too great a distance between usâbetween good people and me.â Shaking his head sadly, Asgore seemed to slump further down. âItâs a vicious cycle. The same one this worldâs built on. Killing gets you ExP. ExP gets you levels. Levels make it easier to hurt, and harder to be hurt. But they also make you worth more, either as a target for others, or to the Consuls. I got to be so desensitized, I didnât even notice when I finally plateaued.â
To Barnabee, still in thrall to Galeem, all this seemed especially confusing. âThine testimony is too much for me,â he confessed. âI am but a simple warrior. To preserve Her Majesty is all I aspire to. But if thy situation is so dire, and thou hast much strength in thy possession, is there not something thou canst do?â
âI wish I could. But I donât know how. None of these oh-so-legendary weapons can even scratch the Flame Clock. I thought about rebelling, but the clockâs got me there too. The Consuls could drain it dry if they wanted. Whether they know it or not, every poor soul in the City of Tears is a hostage for âem. But all that asideâŠâ Asgore averted his gaze âI just donât have the right kind of strength. The determination.â He scowled in anger at himself. âIâm just a screw-up. Always have been. Stubbornly sticking to the wrong path. Filling this clockâŠis all Iâm good for.â
After a moment Asgore sighed. âOhh. Iâve moaned long enough. Here.â He pulled something out of his robe and tossed it at the Seekersâ feet. It was a one-third mask fragment. âBoth Consuls gave me a job to do, and guarding this thing was Pâs. Kidâs as lazy as he is selfish, so when it came to guarding the Egg he just broke up the masks and stuck the pieces with whatever strong monsters he found.â He gave the heroes a rueful smile. âSaid heâd kill everyone in town if I didnât keep it safe, but he doesnât even check to make sure I still have it when he comes up.â From another pocket he produced a fragment that looked similar to the first, but painstakingly carved from seashell. âStill, I made a fake just in case.â
âSo you do intend to resist?â Barnabee asked.
Asgore shook his head. âI got my hands full, sadly. Got to keep the lights on.â He scarcely needed to gesture toward the Flame Clock to show what he meant. âBut I wish you all good luck out there. Find all the masks, learn all you can, and take out whatever it is the Consulsâre so keen to keep safe.â He furrowed his brow. âAnd if F or P show upâŠdonât let âem get away with this.â
With even fewer tense moments to plan than they were led to believe, the team had to think fast. That theyâd bring Sierra with them as they fled turned out to be a foregone conclusion. Band had already made it clear that these so-called lawmen werenât to be trusted, and everyone agreed. Even if they didnât care one bit about the poor girlâs safety, their best chance at learning the truth behind the demon attack lay with her. That just left one big question: with Ironsâ trigger-happiest watchdogs on their way any second now, how were the heroes going to make it out?
Red made a rather dramatic suggestion, formulated a bit too quickly maybe given the circumstances, though he could hardly be blamed for it all things considered. While Red had a point about the possibility of other cops covering the back door and their greater experience with Edinburgh himself, Band couldnât see the logic behind his plan, especially the wanton destruction. He just didnât know or trust the superhero well enough yet, and there was no time for Red to explain further. âWhen the heatâs on, upâs the last place ya wanna go,â the detective said in a hurry, remembering and applying something he knew about firefighting. It sounded like Ace had some doubts too, which made a majority against the idea in his mind, two to one. âThe more fuel in the fire, the higher it rises. If we stay here, the whole cityâll be on our asses. We gotta move, but we donât gotta use any doors.â
Albedo nodded. âThat they know where we are is the main issue. We must disappear with all haste.â
âGimme wheah this hideout is and I can guide us through the streets!â Lucia piped up, looking at Frisk. âDonât know it like I know Metro City, but I wonât steah ya wrong!â
.Heavy footsteps were on the way; the crew had run out of time for deliberation. With Frisk and Ace undecided and Red probably barking up the wrong tree. Band chose to make the decision for the others. âPick it up, yâall!â He relieved Frisk of Sierra so that she could run unburdened, gently placing the girl over his shoulder, then took off across the Noumenon like a runaway freight train. After a few moments the rattle of gunfire behind them chased the team behind a row of untouched bookcases, ducking and covering their heads when they could. They reached the back wall with no door in sight, but by their powers combined Big Band and Red punched a new exit through the wall. Then they were back on the snowy roads of Edinburgh MagicaPolis, hounded onward by the sounds of angry voices and sirens in the distance.
Once Frisk painted a rough picture of which direction the group needed to go, Lucia took over. Both streetwise and equipped with an idea of how her fellow officers operated, she led the others on a route full of twists, turns, and unexpected shortcuts, avoiding open spaces and breaking sightlines as often as possible. In a city this big and samey that alone would be enough to evade the average cop, but neither Lucia nor Band doubted that the loose cannons would pick up the trail. âBefore we start runninâ outta breath, letâs hunker down in a spot thatâll play to our strengths,â he advised. âNo sense in dragginâ out the chase. Letâs settle up with Ironsâ goons right now.â
Not long after, everyone came to a stop in a cluttered, people-devoid street with one of the city bridges in view. As the team slid to a stop in the snow, several of them panting, Band quickly sized the area up. He expected an elite police unit to be packing some firepower, and if the Seekersâ fight against Artemis proved anything it was that they lacked a great deal of ranged options. That meant a corridor wouldnât suit them well, and their pursuers might very well show up in the midst of their attempts to hide themselves among the debris for an ambush. Bandâs eyes landed on a dilapidated supermarket among the apartments, perhaps the site of a fire or some other tragedy. An unpredictable location like that might work to the teamâs advantage. âIn here!â he called, and with a âlight nudgeâ the door flew from its hinges. It landed with a crash, the last of the shattered glass around its edges reduced to smithereens, and the Seekers hurried inside.
Sooner even than the pessimistic detective anticipated, their pursuers appeared. Stryker, Nightingale, and Byte plus Barq pushed inside with weapons -and arms- at the ready, their flashlights dancing across the supermarket interior. Since its near-destruction the place had seen some looting, with shelves overturned and goods scattered around, as well as too many footprints every which way to tell where their targets had gone. Still, unless they climbed up through the collapsed section of ceiling, the fugitives were here. âWe can do this the easy way, or the hard way!â Stryker called out, his pistol and flashlight probing the ruined storeâs dark corners. âOf course, I donât mind the hard way. Just makes it more fun.â
Byteâs diminutive companion began zeroing in on the Seekers. âHead signatures detected,â the cop-bot reported, following Barqâs lead.
Nightingale said nothing, but remained closer to the door, a pump shotgun in hand. He planned to bring the big guns on anyone who got flushed out by the others, as well as to cut off their escape.
Dangerous as a boss battle in these circumstances might be, the Seekers werenât about to let their new friend bite the dust. They joined the battle, with Roxas taking point. Giant enemies were nothing new, and despite their strength and impressive bulk, their speed and weight could be used against them. When Enceladus discarded its battered former opponent to face the newcomers, it opened fire with sweeping lasers and explosive energy blasts, but Roxas withstood the projectile onslaught and returned some magic of his own. A well-timed counter led into a flurry of attacks that made for a solid opening to the fight, but rather than push too hard the dual-wielder made sure to keep an eye on his allies, starting with Goldlewis. The man badly needed another burst of healing, and once he received it he could breathe a lot easier, even if he couldnât do much to help the team out unarmed.
Karin's brave attempt did not fare quite so well. This inhuman opponent, massive and packing a small armyâs worth of projectiles, was unlike anything the heiress had ever faced. And however skilled one might be, sometimes lady luck was simply not on oneâs side. Even worse, Roxas couldnât help her back up after she went down thanks to his mana expenditure for Goldlewisâ sake, so Karin would be out of commission for a while. That also meant that Enceladus could finish her off at any time if it decided to, but Goldlewis wasnât about to let that happen. Fighting a chimera barehanded might be beyond him, but protecting someone in need he could do. He hustled over to scoop the young woman up in his arms, cradling her like an infant. No stray shots would be snuffing her out on his watch.
That left the fighting to the other three, but the Seekers were pulling out all the stops. A hefty slab of red matter flew in to smash against Enceladusâ body. It crumbled on impact, but did a chunk of damage, leaving part of the monsterâs torso cracked with the same fiery orange that eked out of its eyes and mouth. Angry, Enceladus turned its shoulder cannons in the direction the cube came from and bombarded the area, happily pulverizing any outcroppings between it and its targets. Midna felt some of her strikersâ pain, but they disappeared before too much damage could be dealt, and she could take solace in the knowledge she gave a lot worse than she got. A barrage from Enceladus soon flushed her out, but those Dragon Dances meant her volcanic weapons would pack a serious punch.
Pit, Midna, and Roxas converged, and a hectic melee ensued. Focusing attacks on a specific arm did not seem any more expedient than attacking it normally, but they could be knocked down like that and forced to return to the body. Enceladus fought with massive strength, causing explosions on the terrain that tended to outstrip its already troublesome range, and it happily attempted to send its enemies spiraling off into the abyss as much as smash them flat, but it had a problem. It was predictable. All three of its challengers were quick on their feet and observant, able to avoid its blows and retaliate with quick, powerful strikes. Meanwhile, the fastest it moved was during its highly-telegraphed charges; otherwise it floated slowly about, and its block was by no means impregnable. Those mighty fists werenât much good if it couldnât lay a finger on these people. Enceladus scored some hits, especially when it started belting out loads of fireballs and lasers, but Pit sent its own projectiles right back at it with his Guardian Orbitars again and again. After just a couple minutes, the chimera was in encouragingly bad shape.
It did showcase one tricky new ability, which it tried twice. After clapping its hands together, Enceladus could seal a team member in a dome of red energy that quickly shrank in. Any contact with the dome would lead to injury, and if allowed to close in it might very well crush an unfortunate Seeker inside. Outside it, however, formed three nodes that sustained the field, and destroying them would free the captive. The first time it happened it led to near-disaster, but by the second time someone got trapped the other two broke them out in no time flat. After a bit more back-and-forth, Enceladus fell to the ground with a terrific crash. It tried in vain to reach out for its foes, but after a moment its hand dropped down, and the chimera lay still.
Of course, that wasnât quite how things worked, but after a long, hectic, and confusing day not all the Seekers might remember that. As Goldlewis joined them with Karin, a final dome suddenly formed around. âWhat in tarnation!?â the veteran yelled in dismay. âThe damn thing ainât dead yet!â This time, with all of them trapped inside, it was a real problem. Neither their bodies nor weapons nor projectiles could pierce the dome to destroy the nodes. âThis is stupid as hell,â Goldlewis growled. âNo way our goose gets cooked like this!â
Luckily, the old man was right. In the midst of a sea of red came a streak of blue that shattered one of the nodes in a burst of red matter. Goldlewis whipped around to look in the direction it came from, but the barrier around him made it hard to see. All he could make out were large shapes moving and shooting, connected by chains of bright, ethereal blue. Another moment later and the final node burst apart, dispelling the barrier and saving everyoneâs skin.
Hero and monster alike stared back the way the Seekers had come to see a gang of newcomers, five strong. In the center stood a tall, imposing, stern-looking commander, wearing white armor atop a blue uniform and wielding an X-baton in gladius mode. To his right stood a stoic with spectacles and a cap-wearing lady with an easygoing smile, both officers in uniform as well, and on the left were the twins Akira and Hayato, but like the other three they now sported strange semi-triangular devices on their left forearms with blue cores that rattled and whirred. âYou alright?â their leader asked.
âJust about,â Goldlewis called back, hefting Karin so that he could wipe his brow with the back of his hand.
Enceladus tightened its fists and pounded the floor, roaring. The commander nodded. âThen letâs finish this.â
The Seekers could join in, or just watch, as the legionarii both new and old went on the attack. Together they charged Enceladus, and as they approached they summoned creatures to fight alongside them. The entities they summoned looked sort of like chimeras themselves, but blue instead of red, clasped in white police armor, and literally chained to their summoners. Alicia led the charge on her wolflike Beast Legion, which pounced on the chimera to bite repeatedly as its rider laid into its head with her blaster. When it flipped off to avoid getting grabbed, the Beast Legion not only lashed Enceladus with its tail, but spat out a final parting shot that exploded on impact. Next went Jin with his burly Arm Legion, a legless floating armor like a miniature version of Enceladus itself, but this one countered its counterpartâs punch with a flurry of blows before seizing the monsterâs arm to deal it a mighty wallop with itself. Enceladus rained down hell with its cannons, but Davisâ Lance Legion shielded the barrage before driving a deadly thrust into the cracks in Enceladusâ chest that Midna left earlier. As the monster writhed, the twins joined in, putting their new partners through their paces. Akiraâs ghostlike Arrow Legion perforated the chimera with brilliant blue bolds, while the dual blades of Hayatoâs Sword Legion carved through its flesh.
With everyone attacking together, Enceladus stood no chance. This time the Seekers made sure it stayed down, and soon all that remained were ashes and its spirit, tinted freakishly red.
âThanks for the save,â Goldlewis panted, jogging up to the newcomers as they dismissed their Legions.
Davisâ face was stony. âSave it for later,â he told them. âWe have to get you out of there.â
With their instruments plus the guidance of a womanâs voice over their radios, the Neuron officers found a nearby exit rift and got everyone out of the Astral Plane. Returning to reality felt like coming up for air from underwater, and Goldlewis didnât realize just how out of breath heâd been until he could breathe normal air once more. He still felt pretty bad, though. That sense of filthiness on and beneath his skin had yet to cease, and he was beginning to worry.
Before he could say anything, though, the voice reached Davis and the others again. âThose people you found fighting in the Astral Plane. Their data corruption levels are dangerously high. You should take care of it now.â
Goldlewis froze. Heâd be so intent on the fight with Enceladus heâd completely forgotten about redshift. After time in the Astral Plane itself, it had to be bad. The only thing that staved off panic was that operatorâs phrasingâwas there something that these people could do to save his team?
âRight.â Davis beckoned Hayato over. âI know youâre exhausted, but we need you to bring the Sword Legion out again. It can blueshift these people before they aberrate. Quickly now.
The Sword Legion appeared again and visited the Seekers one by one. It laid its hands on Roxas, Midna, Pit, Karin, and Goldlewis for a few seconds at a time, dispelling the redness overtaking them with a wave of blue. All of a sudden it felt like a massive weight was lifted off the veteranâs chest, as if a terrible sickness had gone away at the snap of a doctorâs fingers. He felt much better, although the Sword Legion disappeared from his view the second he did. Had he only been able to see it, and perhaps that chimera, because enough red matter had entered his system to make him âlikeâ them? What a scary thought.
âReally canât thank you enough,â he told the officers afterward. âFor a minute there I was fixinâ to throw in the towel.â
David gave the slightest hint of a reassuring smile. âNothing to it. We appreciate your desire to help, but please keep in mind just how dangerous and corruptive red matter exposure is. Sad as it is, Neuron canât be there every time. Just not enough manpower.â
âThose floatinâ things that looked like chimeras, but fought on your side,â Goldlewis asked. âWhat were they?â
Jin came forward to answer, allowing Davis to step away and handle something else. Judging by the state of the highway, things seemed more or less sorted on this side. No more gates or aberrations could be seen, and the various roadways swarmed with blue-coated officers. âTheyâre called Legions,â Jin informed him. âDonât mean to brag, but theyâre basically our ace up our sleeves against the Chimeras. The only stuff that works well against âem. Fighting fire with fire, you know?â
âIsnât this all classified or something?â Alicia asked, her hands on her hips. âI mean, not that I care or anything.â
Jin shrugged. âHey, they say âem with their own eyes. Not much of a secret.â
âCan anyone use them Legion things?â Goldlewis asked. âI know this ainât exactly our business, seeinâ as we ainât Neuron like yâall, but weâre tryinâ to do somethinâ about the Ever Crisis.â
Jin gave a humorless chuckle. âNow wouldnât that be nice. Well, not everyone. Youâd have to be selected for Neuron to even have a shot, but you gotta have an aptitude for it too. What, you wanna go another round with the chimeras? Thatâd be a first.â
âFor now, you all should head home. Take it easy for a bit,â Alicia advised.
Goldlewis looked back down the highway, trying to spot where heâd left the tunnel. It had been back by the tunnel, and he could probably loop around to find another, less chaos-ridden route into Sector 7. â...Right.â
âHere, we can get a chopper to evacuate you,â Davis said as he returned. âTheyâll be flying around all night anyway. Might as well get you where you need to go.â
âThatâd be great, butâŠI ainât gonna leave my hummer behind,â Goldlewis told everyone. âYâall go ahead, Iâm gonna head back and swing it âround. Find another way into Sector 7. This ainât my first rodeo.â Hefting his coffin over his shoulder, the veteran waved farewell.
It wasnât long before the Seekers, for the second time that day, arrived by air at the S.O.U. headquarters helipad. Five-star hotel or not, theyâd be crashing on the sofas here tonight, using the sheets and pillows provided. It had been a long and busy day.
New Power obtained: Wall of Light After alerting the UMA Goldlewis can crack open his upheld coffin to release a flood of blue light, creating a semicircular barrier of interlaid hexagons that covers a large area, because in the future everything is hexes. The shield can withstand projectiles and magic up to and including concentrated gunfire, but enemies can pass through it. Using it slowly drains his Security Level, and it can only be used at maximum Security Level, so it can only be used in bursts
Sector 8 Lower Level 11 Tora (136/110) Level 12 Poppi (26/120) Susie and Blazermateâs @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichiâs @Multi_Media_Man, Benedictâs @Dark Cloud Word Count: 1287
Just from the look of him Tora and Poppi expected Zenkichi to step back and let his minions take the Seekers on. So far Benedict established the precedent of being mostly talk, while the G-men under his thumb provided the action. They did not expect him, when menaced by Geralt, to completely change his appearance in a surge of azure flame, nor to reveal a spectral partner of superhuman size to stand by his side. It struck the two most keenly not because it came completely out of left field, but because theyâd seen exactly the same ritual before during their journey through the Sandswept Skyâthat sort of spontaneous combustion plus Persona manifestation had been the calling card of their Phantom Thief allies, at least in a metaphorical sense.
âPoppi see that?â Tora exclaimed as the battle began. Poppi didnât bother answering; of course she had. âJust like friends Joker, Panther, and others that Tora forget! Must be related somehow, meh!â For right now, though, the man wasnât their friend. He brandished dual revolvers to rival Poppiâs own, though at the moment it looked like it would be the Witcher, not her, taking the detective on. âGer-Ger be careful not to kill, just in case!â
âHee-llooo?â came a shout in a cheerful, childish voice. Its owner, Jack Frost, closed in on the leftover Seekers with the other Shadows. âYou should be worrying about yourselves, ho!â
Things kicked off quickly. Blazermate and her sentry got the attention of the chrome terror Chemtrail, distracting it for a few moments. With its buzzsaw-like blades and screaming faces, that thing looked like an absolute menace, so Tora knew he and Poppi needed to take out the trash fast. âLetâs go!â As Susie challenged Loup-Garou with her Business Suit, the dynamic duo moved together to take on Apsaras in hopes of dispatching her quickly, but she put up some sort of magical wall, and Jack Frost started pelting the pair with Bufu from afar. As the icicles flew in, Poppi grabbed her Masterpon to dive out of harmsâ way, but the glancing blow she took did so little damage that her wariness melted away in an instant.
âMasterpon, you should push in. Iâll take care of that one.â She squeezed off a revolver shot at Jack Frost to keep its head down, then got to her feet with an ukemi and quickly switched to her Fire Core. Trusting his partner completely, Tora bounced off to challenge Apsaras, while Poppi faced a Mabufu hailstorm from the snowman. Wreathed in flame, her Variable Saberâs plasma blade burned through the onslaught, and from within the diamond dust she let loose a fire-infused round at Jackâs feet.
The ensuing explosion launched him upward, and Poppi jetted in for a diagonal leaping slash. âIâve heeâd my last ho!â he cried as he fell, and the next moment the artificial bladeâs brilliant flare cleaved him into halves that quickly burnt to cinders.
At the same time, Tora swung straight through all of Apsarasâ elemental shields and clobbered her in the side of the head with his hammer. She reeled back, grit her teeth, and slung a spell at the Noponâs feet to freeze him in place with her ice. A vortex of winds built up between her hands as she charged and unleashed a Cycloburst to knock his back, but Tora rolled to his feet none the worse for wear thanks to Blazermateâs overheal. Apsaras cast an icy wave across the ground that erupted underneath her foe, but Tora managed to block in time and just get launched into the air, where he saw an opportunity. âMeh-meh-meh!â he cried, swinging downward the bash off the tip of the iceberg so that he could somersault onto it and slide down the slope. It worked like a charm, and with a whoosh he closed in on Apsaras, riding her own wave back to her. She managed to elegantly cartwheel back out of the way in time to avoid his swing, and with the Nopon overextended at point-blank range she used Bufula to call forth a crag of ice above him to drop on his head.
Instead Poppi smashed through the ice with a blazing red-hot kick and slammed into Apsaras, pinning her into the ground. Variable Saber ignited, Poppi performed a burning backflip to try and slice the shadow bottom-to-top, but despite appearances Apsarasâ weakness was not fire. She survived the fiery strike, and as Poppi landed by her feet she rose, healing herself with diarama. Of course, she couldnât then do much to stop Poppi as she slashed twice, then used her new anklet to launch into Rolling Thrash, a forward roll heel drop that ended with her on her back and Apsaras bowled forward. With haste Poppi reversed the motion, flipping backward with an upward kick that popped the shadow up. Finally, Tora used her as a springboard to leap into the air and smash Apsaras to the ground with his hammer. Two down, two to go.
Right away, though, they saw that Chemtrail would be a problem. When it used Riot Gun, its three mouths took turns firing huge bullets like howitzers. It had already destroyed Blazermateâs turret, and it had taken all the Medabotâs speed to stay one small step ahead of its gunfire after disengaging from Tora. Giovanna succeeded in taking the heat of the healer with a couple kicks, but they barely left a dent in Chemtrailâs metal body, and the secret agent quickly found herself on the run instead. After a missing a number of Riot Guns that left craters in the ground or screamed through the air to inconvenience other parts of the city, the chrome demon belched forth a cloud of Fog Breath. Giovanna, Blazermate, Tora, and Poppi all got enveloped, leaving their offense and agility suppressed even after the haze cleared away. Chemtrail didnât innately nullify fire like it did the light and dark elements, but after Poppi landed a couple ineffective hits on its engine it might as well have. Knowing that she couldnât press her luck in this state, she superjumped away before Chemtrail could turn and nail her with a Riot Gun, then hurried to Toraâs side just as the shadow unleashed Shivering Taboo, inflicting a seventy percent chance of bind, panic, sleep, sick, or poison in an area around it. This time, Tora lucked out but Poppi collapsed to the ground where she lay asnooze. Giovanna stumbled, stricken by poison, and Chemtrail aimed its next Riot Gun her way. Though it hurt him to leave Poppi, Tora ran in to earn its aggression by hammering away at its leg. Giovanna might not be able to take those shots, but he could.
This was quite the mess. Between the fights with Zenkichi, Chemtrail, and Loup-Garou, Benedict had his pick of who to back up. But who needed his help the most?
As much as she enjoyed the vitalizing refreshment of pure water and the feeling of rainfall, Nadia knew sheâd tire of being drenched eventually. Luckily, the jacket sheâd gained from her fusion with Massachusetts was waterproof, as one might expect from shipgirl attire, so by zipping it up and donning the hood Nadia could comfortably withstand the Home of Tearsâ ceaseless, characteristic deluge. Sure it smushed her ears down a little, which along with the constant roar of pounding rainfall made it pretty hard to hear, but it beat catching anything that might put the brakes on her convalescence. And her legs would've gotten soaked anyhow as she splashed through the puddles of the dark city streets.
Nadia proceeded at a leisurely pace, despite her hunger, thirst, and fatigue, but she kept a sharp eye out. It would be a bit before her map -consulted semi-frequently beneath overhangs and rain shelters constructed for the express purpose of a momentâs reprieve- brought her to the Royal Quarter, where she planned to commit her burglarize. She was the kind of cat burglar who much preferred to steal from the rich than from the poor, after all. Still, she couldnât help her eyes constantly roving around as she retraced her steps from the Sanitarium back through Downtown to Fountain Central. Late as it might be to some, the night was still young for Nadia Fortune, and there altogether too many interesting things to see.
She found herself fascinated by the unique features -and inhabitants- of a city built and lived in by non-humans. It struck her as even stranger than the cat-dominated Nyakuza Metro, a weird but wonderful hodgepodge that continuously stoked her curiosity as she made her way along. Whether walking the streets along with her or behind the glass of various stores and restaurants, Nadia observed a huge number of people that in any other circumstance would have just seemed like monsters. She spotted mudmen, mummies, harpies, armors, ghosts, goblins, ghoulies, gorgons (not petrifying, thankfully), dryads, sea horses, land whales, a variety of demons from diminutive imps to fiery fiends, dragons, slimes, and bugs of all kinds. None exhibited any sort of aggression or ill will; they just acted likeâŠwell, people. Nadia noticed plenty of beastfolk that would be ferals in her world, and they ran the gamut of beastliness from almost-human like herself to little more than bipedal animals. She happened to glimpse a bunch of skeletons and catfolk at an aptly-named Milk Bar run by -who else?- a milk elemental, but she felt no desire to join them. When she decided that a stiff drink would do her some good, she hadnât been thinking of dairy. After pausing a moment to let a family of soft-bodied slugcats and a cyclopean frog pass by, Nadia moved on.
After all, interesting and inhuman as the Home of Tears might be, she did not feel at âhomeâ, oddly enough. In the end, Nadia knew that for all intents and purposes, she was pretty much a human. Plenty of people in the World of Light had animal ears and/or tails, including some of Limsaâs shipgirls, and nobody batted an eye. Here, she felt like an outlier. In comparison she liked Nyakuza Metro a lot better; it had been cute and fun, leaning wholeheartedly into its gimmick. Limsa Lominscuttle Town spoke to her soul in the same way that Little Innsmouth did, making her hurt for home. In terms of places sheâd visited, the undead hellhole known as Redgraccoon City didnât really count. The couple days she spent trapped there felt like a lifetime. And before thatâŠwell, out of all the random spots where the caravan sheâd joined stopped during her week-long trek around the base of Split Mountain and through the Sandswept Sky, she only recalled enjoying the night spent in Tostarena Town. It had really been a whirlwind of adventure ever since she left Carnival Town, and she couldnât even remember how long she spent up there. If not for that caravan, she realized, she might have never run into the Seekers and awakened from Galeemâs stupor. She wouldâve never met Ace. The idea of whiling away her days in Carnival Town, happily oblivious to all that had happened, chilled her more than the rain. Nadia shivered, and picked up the pace across the bridges to and from Fountain Central. Those pockets werenât going to pick themselves.
Eventually Nadia reached the Royal Quarter. Here the streets were spacious, smooth, well-decorated, and bathed in the soft pink glow of ornate streetlights fueled by hydroelectricity. Everything was carefully laid-out and planned, elaborate and aesthetic, and both bugs and beasts adorned themselves with finery. A few of the well-to-do-denizens traversed the tidy avenues beneath umbrellas, but most stuck to carriages, drawn by what Nadia guessed must be less-sentient bugs and beasts. At one point, a particularly fancy carriage rolled by with a Dark Horse pulling it, which elicited a double-take from Nadia. The one she and Sectonia fought early that afternoon had been vicious, but this one seemed tame somehow. â...Huh.â
No stranger to weariness or hunger, Nadia didnât rush things, but patiently took her time wandering the Home of Tearsâ wealthiest districts in search of a target. Sheâd had enough fighting today. Beneath the glare of Gallo Towerâs clock face she felt like she was always being watched, but security around here seemed relatively light. Did these people generally live in peace and happiness? Well, good for them. Only once did she spy what looked like law enforcement of any kind: a handful of mermaid guards led by a tall, one-eyed knight. Nadia steered clear, and after making her way out of the most active parts of the Royal Quarter, found her mark.
With how late it was, all the fine boutiques on this particular street had closed up shop. Unlike the most upscale shopping center it lacked any awnings stretched overhead to offer shelter from the rain, and no rain shelters happened to be built on it, so there was no reason to linger here in the downpour. Nadia couldnât see any carriages either, and she didnât expect anyone indoors around here after closing time. Folks didnât both live and do business in the same building in parts of town like this, goodness no. The avenue was empty; all she needed to do was take her pick. The feral strolled up the left side of the street, looking in the windows to see what each had in store. A tailor? Probably not. They dealt in pricey but infrequent transactions for services as much as goods, and werenât likely to have left money on hand. A jeweler? No way. Places like that could be counted on to have extra layers of security, and while she counted herself an exceptional thief, Nadia wanted something easy tonight. A shop with wares that one wouldnât expect to be particularly valuable, but always turned out to be expensive, especially in upscale areas like this. And one that would see enough transactions throughout the day to leave
A leathercrafter? Bingo.
Nadia stopped and peered inside, scoping the place out with her keen catlike eyes. She could see boots, hats, belts, straps, purses, pouches, wallets, and so forth. The upper class needed things to carry all their money in, as well as reins and harnesses for their carriage-pullers, and guards needed fixtures for their equipment. On the counter by the door lay what looked like a register, but it would have the bare minimum of cash in it, if any. Shopkeepers werenât so stupid as to leave their stash where any mook brave enough to smash the glass could snatch it. What she wanted was the safe. Of course, sheâd need to get in first, and she didnât plan to use any brute force herself. A cat burglarâs calling card was her silence: getting in and out without a sound, leaving everything just as the owner left it, except for the prize. Luckily, her skillset was bigger than ever.
Nadia looked up. Through the rain that got in her eyes she could see no open second-story windows. Oh well. She jumped up anyway, sinking her claws into the chitinous outer surface of the building. Inside the shop sheâd seen a furnace, perfect for casting an inviting glow out on the street, as well as warming up and drying out any waterlogged customers as they perused the leatherworkerâs wares. When she reached the roof, Nadia found not a chimney, but a tiny metal pipe just a few inches in diameter. âPurr-fect.â She pulled off her right hand and dropped it in, then drained some blood into it as well. Once satisfied it was enough, she turned and hopped back down to street level, then stood in front of the glass to watch.
After a moment spent feeling around in there, she unlatched and pushed open the furnace from the inside. Earlier remote maneuvers like this had been tricky, but now sheâd come to see them as an art, and this time she had a fresh coat of paint to add to the mix. From within the furnace emerged one of her copycats, formed from the blood sheâd deposited earlier, with her real hand in place of its own right. Nonchalantly the doppelganger strolled through the store to unlock the door from the inside. It reached up and grabbed the bell to stop it ringing, and Nadia waltzed right in.
She locked the door behind her just in case, then absorbed her copycat (minus the furnace ash) and began to sniff around. During her search for the safe, she happened to spot a display in one corner advertising Wallets with a capital âWâ. Turning on her Night Light, she read that these magical Wallets could apparently hold limitless funds, and they boasted a price point to prove it. âHell of an askinâ price,â she murmured to herself. âGood thing Iâm gettinâ a discount.â She swiped one not from the display, but from the supply crate in the back. Looking at all the fine leather on display, however, she couldnât stop there. âAh, I shouldnât, butâŠIâm easily suede.â Nadia took a black belt and looped it through four pouches to emulate the one sheâd lost, then put it on. âFeels just right,â she smiled as she tapped on the clasp. âLetâs hope you donât âbuckleâ like the last one.â Giggling to herself, she turned to look around. Now, if I were a leatherworkerâs safe, where would I âhideâ...?â
In no time she found it, tucked away in a corner of the supply room. Inside a cabinet laden with transaction records lay the safe, a bulbous strongbox of the same material as many of the cave floors and walls around her, with a keyhole instead of a combination lock. After thinking for a moment Nadia crouched down, lugged the safe out, and turned it around. âOkay. Letâs hope this isnât any stronger than it looks, or Iâll have to go through the lock.â She put her fingers together, hardened her nails into metal-hard claws, and revved her forearm like a living drill. Holding her bicep with her other hand, she rammed it into the back of the safe, aiming to bore a hole large enough to fit her arm in. After that, it was just a matter of persistence.
A few minutes later, it was done. It didnât take as long as Nadia expected, in fact. Maybe all this adventuring had made her stronger. When she plundered the inside of the safe, the cat burglar found several daysâ worth of unbanked cash stacked there, mostly in the form of high-value Geo widgets. In total it came to a couple thousand. âNyaow thatâs what Iâm talkinâ about,â she purred. She sunk it into her new wallet, then stowed it in one of her new pouches. The weight of money in her pockets at last felt good. âNow thatâs what I call a waist of money!â
Once she put the safe back, Nadia slipped out the front door, then locked it again behind her with a doppelganger arm she left inside. At her direction it crawled back up to and inside the furnace, then pulled it shut. At that point it fell apart, an insignificant sacrifice hidden in the ash to be torched the next time the fire was lit. The feral sauntered away, fleeing the Royal Quarter at a casual pace. It was past time she got a chance to take it easy.
â Activity
Few locales in the World of Light could boast a better view of the setting sun than its western shore, and though it made for a beautiful view from just about anywhere along that sandy seaside, Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn liked it best from the highest point in Limsa Lominscuttle Town. From the edge of the lofty airship dock that crowned the seafaring cityâs central castle she could gaze out across hundred of miles of glinting water, over Inkwell Isle and the hundreds of colorful little island villages that made up New Horizons Archipelago, all the way to the horizon. The dusk painted the sky with the vivid, warm hues of orange, yellow, red, and pink. Throughout all the horrors of war those sunsets had provided solace for many soldiers, reminding them not just that theyâd made it through another day, but of the beauty of the world theyâd been fighting for. And now, after all was said and done, the people of this fair port could enjoy the sunsets and the nights that followed them without fear of what tomorrow might bring.
Tonight, though, Merlwyb couldnât visit her favorite perch. As the townsfolk enjoyed their second evenings in this new season of peacetime, she made haste for the harbor of the Azur Fleet. The sight of their Admiral running was not a rare sight in Limsa, but with the war concluded at long last those who saw her couldnât help but wonder what concerned her so.
Merlwyb sprinted across bridges, down stairs, and even put some of her old seafaring skills to use zipping down ropes to reach her destination all the faster. Only when she reached the end of the dock past the white sea-stone port did she slow down. Before her stood an imposing figure, seldom-seen around here but very recognizable. She stood taller even than Merlwyb, despite the admiralâs rather impressive stature, but this woman also sported a physique that would put the burliest male Roegadyns to shame. Despite the cherry-red armor she wore on top of it, the form-fitting black-and-gray suit she wore advertised her incredible musculature well enough. It wasnât often that Merlwyb felt small, or out of breath for that matter, but after a deep breath she composed herself to speak as if nothing at all was awry.
âGood evening, Madam Consul,â she began. âAnd welcome to Limsa Lominscuttle Town. I trust you had a safe voyage?â
A deep sigh echoed from the stranger as she turned around. Vivid green eyes regarded Merlwyb with a piercing luster from within a round, vaguely skull-shaped helmet within a mane of octopus tentacles. Their dangling lengths swung gently in the wind as she moved. âUneventful. Sadly.â
Merlwyb furrowed her brow. âI see. Forgive me for not receiving you in the Bulwark Hall, I must have missed the forewarning of your arrival. Will you be staying long?â
âItâs fine. I didnât send any.â The Consul chuckled, crossing her brawny arms. âIâll be going again soon, as well. I donât really âstayâ. But I hear you have good news for me.â
âCertainly. I am happy to be able to announce the conclusion of our long and bloody fight with the Abyssal Fleet. It was a hard-earned victory, and it came at great cost. But the war is over, and we finally have peace.â Merlwyb did not attempt to disguise the pride in her voice. Sheâd earned it.
âPeaceâŠâ The Consul laughed through her nose, then shrugged helplessly, her palms upheld. âThere is no such thing.â
Merlwyb blinked. âBegâŠyour pardon? Do you mean to imply the Abyssal threat remains?â
Tilting her head, the Consul put a hand to her chin. âWell, not exactly. Itâs true that plenty of them remain alive. Enough to cause problems if they rallied under a new leader. ButâŠâ She shook her head. âTheyâre played out. Sure, they look interesting, but in truth theyâre boring. As one-dimensional as it gets. Wasted potential. So weâre gonna clean âem up, Consul A and I. The Abyssals wonât darken your doorstep anymoreâ
âIâŠsee.â That bit of news was a relief, despite some odd turns of phrase Merlwyb didnât quite parse, but she had yet to feel at ease. âThen, what is it you speak of? Some new enemy?â
Again the Consul shook her head. Her reply came in an almost jovial tone. âOh no, no no. An old enemy. The enemy of every living thing. Of life, one might say.â She looked up at Limsa Lominscuttle Town, putting her hands on her hips. âFor living things, there is no such thing as peace. Only stagnation.â Her disquieting gaze settled on Merlwyb. âWhen running water grows still, all that follows is decay and death. Where you see a city, I see a nexus of countless lives burning bright, a grand bonfire stoked by the flames of war. After all, conflict is the crucible through which life is given meaning. But with no more fuel for that fire, what happens next? Itâll burn out, and only ashes will remain. The countdown to your extinction has already begun.â Smirking, she crossed her arms. âAnd I donât mean that metaphorically.â
Merlwyb gritted her teeth. âMadam Consul, please be clear with me. What peril is our city in? What can we do?â
âYou can fight!â I pointed her finger at the admiral, then pounded her fists together. âConflict is the crucible, remember? If you mean to stoke your flames, you must claim them from others! Before they claim them from you. Prove that you have the right to live!â
âHavenât we proven enough?â Merlwyb pleaded.
Consul I threw her hands up. âThatâs like saying, have I eaten enough? Maybe for now. But tomorrow youâll be hungry again. And if you ignore that hunger you -and all these people- will die. Do not fear, however. As a reward for your efforts, Iâm making it easy for you. Itâs high time for a change. Thatâs where they come in.â
She half-turned to gesture out to see, where a huge, bulky barge floated in the water. Merlwyb had been wondering what that vessel might be since she first glimpsed it, but with the Consulâs alarming words in mind she gave it a closer look. On its deck rested a large structure, and though it looked like a circus cannon sheâd unconsciously dismissed that possibility. No cannon, after all, could be that large. But as she stood there reevaluating her line of thinking, Merlwyb also noticed a plethora of small figures crowding the deck, running and jumping around, fighting, or just facing Limsa Lominscuttle Town.
Merlwyb took a step back, her face aghast. âBy the twelve! Do you mean to say youâve brought yet more foes to attack us? Consul!?â
âHey, now.â I took a step forward. âIâm doing you a favor, you know. Iâm giving you a chanceâa chance to burn even brighter. Normally, once a place like Limsa reaches the top, thereâs nowhere to go but down. Ripened crops will just rot in their fields, after all, if theyâre not harvested. Thatâs where we come in. We donât actually give our crops a chance to wither away. Waste not, want not.â She chuckled.
âWhat in blazes are you talking about? Is that what my people are to you?â Merlwyb wished she had brought her pistols with her. âAre you in some way responsible for these years of warfare? How much death and destruction is on your head, Consul?â She balled her fists with an angry grimace. âTell me!â
I did not budge a solitary inch. âCareful now. This place will need its Admiral to weather the coming storm. Just remember, Merlwyb.â She slowly reached up and with the press of her button deactivated her helmet. When it disappeared, it left behind a face devoid of fear. She stepped closer, pressing the barrel of Merlwybâs gun to her head. âI do not challenge you,â she intoned in her unfiltered voice. âI merely bring you the test. The chance to avoid the fate in store for the Abyssals.â With a laugh, she licked her lips. âFail, and Iâll be back for you.â
Then she disappeared in a purple flash, teleporting onto the cargo ship. At her command all forty Rumblers aboard the vessel warped into the cannon. The voice of an announcer rang out across the bay. âHi folks, Iâm Skip Leggerday, coming to you live from beautiful Limsa Lominscuttle Town! Weâve got a whale of a match coming up, so get ready to rumble! In three! Two! One! Go!â
Forty funny-looking wrestlers full of gumption launched into the air, hurtling through the sky to fall upon Limsa like musclebound meteorites, and get their first high-octane match with the shocked city defenders underway.
Awe-inspiring as the sight of Ash Lake might be, it held little weight for the new arrivals on the whole. They had things to do and places to be, so they worked quickly to make what they could of the new environment. Looking across the still dark waters of this remarkable vista pragmatically, in fact, Teemo found little more than profound danger. Even putting aside the very real possibility of giant underwater predators, he simply wasnât built for swimming. Though vast in principle, this fantastical subterranean landscape was functionally quite small for purely terrestrial beings like him.
Where the Yordle saw peril, however, the others saw opportunity. The Koopa Troop went right ahead and helped themselves to the local wildlife, both at the outset and as the team went along, following as Teemo led the way along the winding sandbank. Barnabee did not partake in the slaughter, but distanced himself from the water, watching the others assert their dominance on these sandy shores. When it came to the aggressive five-legged clams, even Primrose helped out, and from the eldritch shellfish claimed a spirit to crash. Thanks to her, Rubick, and Rika Teemo got a firsthand demonstration of itemization, fusion, and spiritbinding, and as significant as those revelations might be in and of themselves, they would be only the tip of the iceberg of what the little guy would come to realize if he remained with the Seekers long-term. No matter where they went, it seemed like the heroes would never stop running into both new enemies and new friends.
The sandbank went on for about half a mile, longer if its serpentine curves were somehow stretched into a straight line. Sometimes it measured several hundred feet in width, with the peak of its central dune higher even than Bowser if he stood at the waterâs edge, but sometimes the sandbank dwindled down to just a dozen feet. In the interiors of its tighter bends lay shallows that could be splashed through without a second thought, where crabs combing the silt for invertebrate morsels could be chased into their hidey-holes. Glistening shell fragments seemed common, but among them a keen-eyed explorer could find the occasional sand dollar, star conch, or piece of coral.
Still, it wasnât long before the travelers began to focus on their destination, this change brought about in part by a shift in the terrain. As they closed the distance to the hollow they could see more clearly how it differed from the one that brought them here. For starters, it looked bigger, but in much worse shape. It looked badly damaged, its bark warped as if by a terrible fire, and it didnât actually reach this monumental cavernâs ceiling. Instead it stopped a way up, caving in and withering away to a jagged crown. Far above, the rest of the tree dangled from the roof like a stalactite. Barnabee scratched his chin as he eyed the groupâs destination. âI daresay we shall not find a method of ascension in yonder husk. Could it be the same great petrified trees that I witnessed in Hollow Bough, I wonderâŠ?â
When the Seekers began drawing close, the ground began to change as well. The sandbank thickened into what might be considered a proper island, but its constituent material went gradually from pale beige to a somber dark gray, becoming even more soft and fine. It also piled up higher and higher against the side of the other hollow, forming a massive dune that the earthbound were forced to climb. They could see a large crack in the wood at the top that would permit them entry, so they trudged uphill, difficult as it was. A curious smell filled their nostrils as they climbed: that of soot and cinders, like the powdery leavings of a burnt-out campfire, but they made their most curious discovery within a few dozen feet of the opening. Growing from the ash were handfuls of small, evergreen gorse bushes, laden with bright yellow flowers, as well as toxic pea-pods. They stood in neat rows to either side of the breach, their formation pleasant but clearly not natural. Inside it was dark for the adventurersâ light-adjusted eyes, so only once they stepped inside the hollow could they really see what it contained.
And for the most part, the hollow was home to a gargantuan, towering heap of ash. While for the most part the ground in here assumed the shape of a shallow basin, the farthest third of it shot upward into an impossibly steep ashen incline, hundred of feet tall. At the very stop stood an empty throne all by itself, turned away from the entrance. Behind it, recessed into the wall, lay a giant gauge like the face of a clock tower, sixty percent filled by blazing purple flame that lit up the entire space with its flickering glow. Down below the mountain of ash, yellow gorse flowers practically blanketed the floor, but that wasnât all. Seven altars lay in a circle around the chamberâs center, and on each rested an impressive weapon: a star-metal greatsword, a holy lance, an evil-looking longbow, a magical staff, a draconic greataxe, a splendid shield, and a hellish trident.
Off to one side, a large figure stood, shrouded in a dark cape. Crowned, bearded, and broad-shouldered, he sported two great curled horns, and a watering can in his hand. Heâd been tending to the flowers until the Seekers arrived, at which point he stared at them with dark, sunken eyes, wholly devoid of Galeemâs light, or any light at all. The exile made a weak, miserable attempt at a smile.
The race was on to bring Artemis down before she could let loose her ultimate attack, and all without harming the poor girl trapped within the confines of the demonâs torso. How Sierra ended up like that in the first place was a question Band had neither the time nor the ability to investigate. He only hoped that answers would come to light once the team extracted her, for better or for worse. Pessimistic as he might be sometimes, Band didnât want to think that the cheerful, wholehearted Spheal trainer had a dark side, or hidden agenda. Of course, that meant this was someone elseâs doing, and while Chief Irons sure did seem like a ripe bastard, did he really dabble in the demonic arts? Then again, anything was possible.
Of course, all that could wait. Red was right; the two of them needed to put their fists to use against Artemis so that Ace could cut Sierra free. Wasting no time, the squat superhero recruited a squad of strikers for a new Unite Morph (as opposed to a gaggle of frightened innocent bystanders) which he used to smash wooden debris toward the airborne demon. It wasnât the most accurate or effective attack, and Band figured he could do one better. Any musician worth his salt, after all, could hit the perfect pitch. âThink fast!â he told Red, snatching him up for a fastball special. With his high-power brass knuckle he hurled Red straight toward Artemis to deliver that big fist of his personally.
A moment after Red drove that haymaker home to soften the demon up, the Cadet went to work. After a footstool jump off Albedoâs Solar Isotoma he slashed into Artemis, then cracked her jaw with an upward wallop from his shield. He then embedded his blade in order to attach himself, but by that time the projectile-happy pretender had already begun to fall. Reaching her was the hard part; it turned out that it didnât take much to cut her ultimate attack short. Shrieking, she plummeted back down into the ground with both Ace and the newly-arrived frisk on top of her. Together they dug into the demonâs body, prying it open to shed the light of day on the captive trainer once more. Big Band hustled over to help, but the team quickly found that their enemyâs healing factor wasnât nearly as potent as it looked earlier, and with Artemis stunned from the Seekersâ desperate measures to interrupt her she couldnât even resist.
For a few seconds Band stood over her as the others worked to pull Sierra out. This almost reminded him of one of Peacockâs favorite moves, which involved bringing her entire crew out to kick and beat on whatever hapless fool sheâd managed to stuff into a burlap sack. After a moment though he elected to make a pragmatic choice. He brought his brass knuckles down on the demonâs head with enough force to crack the tilt beneath it, and after only a couple blows Artemis was toast. She dissolved into ash and left Sierra behind, unconscious and slick with cyan demon blood but otherwise none the worse for wear as far as Band could tell. Mission complete.
The detective stood up straight, breathing a sigh of relief. âNice hustle, yâall.â Ace and Red had both pulled their weight, and even if Frisk hung back for most of the fight, Band was glad she came to help at the end. Not half bad for someone as ordinary as her. His gaze turned to Sierra and the spirit of Artemis beside her, questions bubbling up in his mind about the chain of events that led to this moment. It hadnât been long at all since she parted ways. Had someone in the group mentioned that they were planning to head to the library in her presence? âGuess weâll have to wait âtil she wakes up to get to the bottom of this. Sure didnât seem like a secret monster to me, but at this point, nothinâs gonna surprise me.â
The Noumenonâs front doors slammed open, surprising him. Band turned in a hurry to see Lucia running over, a panicked look on her face. âGuys, I got some real bad news!â She stopped short with wide eyes, taking in the chaos that had befallen the library with the bedraggled Seekers and their senseless new acquaintance in the middle of it. âUh. Well, wahse news, anyhow. We got company, and it shoah ainât the good kind!â
Outside the Noumenon, a perimeter had formed of arcane police cars that floated above the ground on magic glyphs instead of tires, the vivid flashes of their red and blue lights produced by racks of glowing crystal. A number of guardsmen stood at the ready with crossbows, staves, and swords in hand. Most prominent were the three officers that Band wanted to see least of all, especially so soon: Nightingale, Stryker, and Byte plus Barq. They started shouting, all loud and accusatory. Band didnât pay much attention, since he just ducked back out of sight. âDonât bother yellinâ with âem,â he told the others. âThey ainât here to be reasoned with. We got thirty second max before they come bustinâ in here. If Iâm beinâ honest, I donât mind takinâ care of things now. It was always gonna come to this. Just a matter of time. But we donât wanna face âem all, so letâs see if we can get âem to chase us out some back route to somewhere more private.â
â...Cooperation is NOT optional! If you do not surrender, weâll have no choice but to use lethal force!â Stryker finished bellowing a moment later. Less than ten seconds later, he cracked his neck. âSounds like resisting arrest to me. Stand back, fellas. Weâll handle this.â With the officers securing the perimeter, Ironsâ watchdogs moved in.
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.<br><br>Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.</div>
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