Member
DracoLunaris
AlmostEternity
BunniesOfDoom
TokyoPewPew
Drifting Pollen
Massasauga
Dragonydas
Morgannis
Xaltwind
CitrusArmsMidgar - Sector 07 Slums
Level 5 Goldlewis (92/50) Level 4 Sandalphon (3/40)
Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Blazermate, Roland, and Susie’s @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man, Benedict and Partitio’s @Dark Cloud, Giovanna
Word Count: 1844
Once Karin consented to bring her up to speed, Sandalphon sat facing her at rapt attention. She neither broke eye contact nor so much as blinked for the duration of the martial artist’s explanation, her only signs of life the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and the occasional split-second outage of her glowing green pupils. Of course, while her body might be nigh-motionless, her mind moved with astonishing speed, cataloging and cross-referencing every tidbit of intelligence she received. The Consuls, the Guardians, Galeem… The archangel possessed perfect recall when it came to information, and in light of some of the new details flooding in since her chance meeting with the Seekers, some things were beginning to make an awful lot of sense. While Karin’s mention of leads on the Dystopiascape Guardian’s location made her curious, she assumed a purpose in her new acquaintance’s omission and did not pry further.
Sandalphon tabled her inferences and extrapolations for now, and when Karin concluded her speech, the statuesque supervisor bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you. You’ve helped me paint a clearer picture of your organization’s goals and status.” With that, she turned away and projected a variety of screens around her. Sandalphon had some calls to make. While the men around her took a load off, finding common ground and drinking together, the ladies sipped water in silence, and the robot girls wandered, the archangel opened a dozen lines of communication at once with the remnants of DespoRHado’s android faction. While the PMC took a huge gamble with their attack on Vandelay, risking their top brass, loads of Unmanned Gears, and tons of cyborg soldiers, they hadn’t seen fit to blow every last resource on the raid. Perhaps due to underlying feelings of distrust, most of DespoRHado’s android forces had stayed home, including all of the Type H, Type D, Type S, and Type O units. The Winds of Destruction had kept their friends close, but they failed to keep their enemies closer, and now the android corps -YoRHa- stood to inherit everything their predecessors left behind.
Of course, this was by no means the android revolution Sandalphon had been hoping to achieve. By staging its rebellion DespoRHado had earned itself a death sentence, and it was already going the way of the dinosaurs. Though the Bunker still stood it would be only a matter of time before the forces of the Administration arrived to finish the job.In the course of juggling the various conversations, Sandalphon became aware of the complete breakdown of DespoRHado’s command structure. Upon catching wind of DespoRHado’s defeat, the cyborgs that remained had deserted en masse, some of them going on rampages. A few even attacked the androids, claiming what happened was their fault, or that Sandalphon had betrayed them. While technically true, that fact did not help them, and when the dust cleared from the infighting the androids remained, awaiting orders. Once properly connected, Sandalphon obliged. She ordered the androids to eliminate all records of themselves, Sandalphon, and generally ‘YoRHa’ from the company databases (including the androids’ own backups, meaning that if they were destroyed now, they’d be gone for good) then escape, leaving the building and everything ‘Desperado’ for the authorities to find. “Split into small squads and navigate around Quarantine Valley and into the Sector 01 undercity, Zaun. Use rooftops, sky-lines, and byways; try not to be seen and stay off the comm lines. Once in Zaun, make your way up to Piltover and find the Lateran Church. Speak my name, and they should offer you refuge. Even if DespoRHado burns to the ground, we will rise from the ashes, and continue to fight. For the goddess Illia, and the glory of mankind.” Her androids echoed the salute, and the network went silent.
Not long after Sandalphon’s business concluded, someone else in the group got a call: Giovanna. She answered the magic glyph and went paced over in one corner by the pool table, alternately listening and talking, succinctly and in low tones. After a few moments she hung up and headed back toward the others. “That was Vernon,” she announced, talking mostly to Goldlewis. “Something’s come up and he needs my help. I’ll be heading topside, so…buh-bye. Wish I could say it’s been fun.”
“Vernon?” Goldlewis furrowed his brow. “Everythin’ alright, G?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh yeah, I mean, pretty much? No big deal, I got it handled. Oh, but, something else is coming your way. After I told him where we are, he said Mr. H will be with us soon. Should be here any minute. Needs your help with something. Good luck out there.” At a snap of her fingers, Rei jumped up from where she’d been curled up to float behind Giovanna, and with a wave the secret agent was on her way.
Her estimation turned out to be correct. Shortly after her departure, an odd customer pushed in through the saloon doors of Seventh Heaven. It was a small yellow drone, with an articulate drum-shaped rotor holding up a central unit with a pointy antenna and big, round eyes like a pair of goggles. Those eyes roved around the room, flitting between the different members of the team. “So you’re the Seekers! It’s an honor to meet you all face-to-face. Or face-to-drone, as it happens. Follow me, please!”
Goldlewis stood and followed the drone outside, and Sandalphon followed his example without complaint. With the lunch rush just about to kick off, Seventh Heaven wouldn’t be a private place much longer. He paused only to glance at Clara. “You gonna be alright, missie?”
“Yep!” The little girl looked happy. “Once Miss Tifa closes up after lunch, she’s gonna show Mr. Svarog and me the militia! I think we’ll really be able to help around here!”
The veteran nodded, offering a rare smile in return. “Right on.” He looked around for a moment, wondering where Svarog was, before settling on Tifa. “Take good care of her now. We ain’t really acquainted, but I get the feelin’ she’s something special.”
Tifa smiled. “You can count on it.”
Once the team gathered outside the building on the right in a huddle, the drone addressed them. “So how’s it going? Heard you got into some hot water up in the City of Glass.”
“Not too bad, all things considered,” Goldlewis replied. Realizing that the others might not be as familiar with the newcomer as himself, he added an explanation. “This is our tech guy. Used to be in the Neuron tech division, handlin’ all their programs and stuff. Real miracle worker, and he does it all remotely. Never even came into the doggone office once. He’s the one that helped get y’all the fake IDs”
So this is H? Sandalphon thought. Was this one of the Consuls that Karin mentioned, or just a coincidence?”
The drone wiggled, then did a flip. “Ah, that was nothing. I know a guy in Night City, is all. You can find just about anything there if you know the right people. Right now though, I’m not as interested in Sector 04 as Sector 08. Anyone here at all familiar with Quarantine Valley?”
“I’m well aware,” Sandalphon replied. “Also known as Zone 09, it’s the enormous canyon separating Sectors 08 and 01. A perennial hotspot for Astral Plane contamination, sealed off from the rest of Midgar, with entry -and exit- strictly prohibited.”
“That’s right! Except, as they say, rules are meant to be broken.” Using a hologram projector the drone displayed a symbol that anyone present at the grand mission briefing in the SOU headquarters might remember: a beady eye above a slavering grin. “If you’re familiar with the place, you’ve probably heard of the Hermits. A gang of near-superhuman hackers who style themselves as protectors of the people. They’re based off-the-grid down there in Quarantine Valley, away from prying eyes, though their operations often take them through all the undercities. Just recently I came across something pretty interesting that I thought Vernon’s friends ought to know.”
H switched to a display of a wanted poster, showing them the image of a disheveled woman with blonde hair in a dirty lab coat, a purple skirt, and torn stockings. “This is Jena Anderson, the leader of the Reunion movement. The other day, a couple new hotshots in Neuron tangled with her, and she ended up giving them a data card before making her escape. It included lab documents about an anti-redshift drug from years back given out at around the time of the Pandemic, news links about the Hermits, and some really detailed maps of Quarantine Valley, one area in particular. I also heard about some sort of big deal going down between Reunion and the Hermits. Rumor has it they knew DespoRHado’s goose was cooked even before they began the raid today. Some sort of setup.”
Sandalphon’s pupils turned into question marks, and she tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps my servers weren’t as secure as I believed.”
“Hm?” Mr. H turned his drone toward her. “Uh, a-anyways, the point is, if everything lines up, Jena’s gonna be there today. In Quarantine Valley, at some point within the next few hours. If you can get in and catch them in the act, you can figure out everything they know about what’s going on. And…if need be, put a stop to them.”
“Hmm,” Sandalphon mused. “I would be in favor. As a former ARI researcher, Jena would have intimate knowledge of secret Administration activities, and if the Hermits really did tap into DespoRHado, there’s no telling what sorts of critical information they might possess on what’s going on behind the scenes in Midgar.”
“I believe so. As for navigating into Quarantine Valley, I can be of assistance. This drone comes equipped with an IRIS scanner that can detect red matter and perform corruption readings, so you’re safe as long as you’re with me,” Mr. H added.
Goldlewis hefted his coffin over his shoulder, relieved to hear Mr. H’s assurance. “Sounds like a plan to me. Reunion and the Hermits, huh? Looks like we’re tickin’ off all the boxes today. Two at a time!”
Before entering Quarantine Valley, however, the Seekers would have to reach it. That meant crossing through two undercities, including the Sector 07 Slums and Detroit. While the former might not present more of a challenge than somewhat winding, unstructured paths, Detroit was in quite the state. Of the YoRHa androids there was no sign, which was a comfort, but the rogue DespoRHado cyborgs had caused quite a ruckus, and the arrival of Administration forces -even more quickly than expected- fanned the flames. Peace Preservation troopers and G-men from General Affairs were out on the prowl, and even a few Turks put in an appearance. Going on foot would take too long and create too many opportunities to be discovered, but the Seekers needed to choose their modes of conveyance and their routes wisely, or they’d be right out of the frying pan that was the Vandelay Campus and into the fire.
For a brief moment, Gemma thought it might just be a trick of the light, or even a product of his imagination. Not likely, of course, but not impossible. There were few OSF soldiers more seasoned than himself, but with the power of a psionic mind to make thoughts reality, one could never know for certain, especially in a place like this. Though long abandoned, the cluttered and confined halls and rooms of this medical ward weighed down on the intruders with an ominous gravitas, its atmosphere an odd, off-putting blend between prison and mortuary thanks in particular to those eerie mannequins. It was hard not to mistake them for people, or Others for that matter given how Rummies looked, but Gemma tried not to let them spook him. He was made of sterner stuff than that, he knew. But after another moment and the lights went out, the patient that seemingly twitched before began to move for real, and it was go time. “They’re alive,” he said aloud, his low voice urgent but not panicked. “We’re under attack.”
Like Midna he attempted to fight back. In a way, actually getting to hit these things came as a relief. No more beating about the bush wondering if and when they’d make their move. However, also like Midna the bruiser quickly realized that these things weren’t going down so easily. When he slugged one right in the chest as it reached out to grab him, it stumbled backward, but his armored fist didn’t so much as leave a dent. “What?” The patient lurched toward him for round two, and he wound up a much stronger hook punch that he let fly with explosive force, slamming the thing into the wall hard enough to leave a web of cracks, but still it showed no signs of damage. He’d encountered Others with hard metal shells that resisted damage until the shells shattered, but these seemed different. They also lacked the expected compositional diversity. “I don’t think these are Others.” By that time another had activated, tottering toward the team past its non-moving kin down the hall and through the now-open gateway.
He attempted to fight them off, his movements a little more hasty. Midna had gotten the attention of a few as well, but with all the darkness around she was in her element, able to slip through the patients’ fingers like smoke and lead them on a wild goose chase. Gemma possessed no such advantage. It was difficult to see the patients in the dark, let alone fight them, for all the effect fighting them had. He ended up relying on his Sclerokinesis to protect himself when one managed to grab hold so he could wrench out of its grip. By the time an unseen crawler grabbed his ankle and refused to be dislodged, he knew this situation wasn’t tenable. “We’ve got to move,” he told the others. “I’ll light the way.”
He reached out through SAS, and a Vision of Hanabi appeared snapping her fingers. ”Need a light?” Borrowing her Pyrokinesis, Gemma covered his arms in psychic flame. He intended it to find a way through the darkness of the medical ward and maybe boost his attack, but the light yielded an unexpected effect. Once illuminated the patients stopped moving, halting mid-attack in some cases, and stood still as statues. Gemma stared for a moment. “It’s the light.” He grabbed the patient from his ankle, turned its head sideways to put it through the barred gate, then turned its head back to trap it. At the same time he also noticed other patients twitching thanks to the fitful firelight and anything that happened to block it. “We’re on a timer. Let’s move.”
Together the three booked it through the medical wing. For every half-dozen patients they found sitting or standing around, one began to move toward them, at least until the light of Gemma’s Pyrokinesis stopped them. They smashed through doors, vaulted over obstacles, and pulled open gates for about fifteen seconds. Then, just as they entered a door-lined hall with an open elevator at the far end, the Pyrokinesis timed out. Instantly mannequin arms burst out of the windows and bean slots of the doors on either side, reaching, clawing, and trying to grab the trio as they passed. Gemma swerved around the clusters of arms, running down the hall toward the exit. Behind him the doors began to slam open, multiple patients pouring out of each one. Some crawled out beneath hospital beds that partially blocked the hallway, or leaned out from behind dressers. His heart pounded, but his feet pounded the floor harder, and after a tense moment Gemma and the Seekers made it to the elevator. The overhead bulb lit up, freezing the mob right in front of the door as the doors gently slid closed and the team began to descend. Gemma leaned against the back wall, catching his breath with furrowed brows, until the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened once more. Ding!
This lower level looked very similar to the medical ward above, albeit a little better lit and lacking the abundance of patients, although some prosthetic parts could still be seen around. After a few moments, the main difference became apparent: the sound. At irregular intervals a rumbling or banging sound could be heard, continuing for a couple seconds before going quiet for anywhere between a half-dozen and a couple dozen. Gemma inched forward, slowly at first, but it became clear that the sound originated at least a couple rooms over. Watchful in the gloom, the team proceeded. They passed hospital beds, gurneys, wheelchairs, and various pieces of equipment, some of them laden with patients -often incomplete ones- that never stirred. A couple times, Gemma spotted red pinecone flowers growing straight out of cracked floor tiles, or even weirder, empty beds. All too soon the trio approached the source of the noise. When a rumble stopped, Gemma could begin to hear other sounds: a clumsy rummaging, a heavy strained breathing, and a slight, distressed moaning. At the threshold of an operating room, Gemma paused, searching. Something jostled two tall shelves full of medical supplies directly ahead, but couldn’t see anyone there. Not until an enormous, bulbous, pale shape swung down from the ceiling to reach a lower shelf.
After a moment, the Doctor found what he was looking for and bent back up. Despite his size, he then began to crawl along the ceiling, slipping his hands and feet between the ceiling panels to find purchase. He positioned himself above an operating table where a patient laid motionless, then leaned down to operate, inserting the joint he’d found in order to attach a peg-leg before bandaging it together. It looked like he hadn’t noticed anyone yet. This square room sported three other exits, one leading to a small, softly-lit room that a steady beep…beep…beep came from, one with a set of closed double doors, and one leading toward a larger room with a pink-green glow.
As the young trio cautiously advanced through the heavy, stifling silence, more and more albedos turned up, and though they lay perfectly still -in some cases very well hidden in the area’s nooks and crannies- and betrayed no signs of life, nobody could shake the feeling of an imminent ambush. And despite their best efforts, disturbing the lurkers turned out to be an inevitability–more of a question of ‘when’ than ‘if’, and the answer was ‘too soon’. When the intruders drew too close, the albedos wrenched themselves from their pallid morass to thrash and stagger around like the living dead, rasping in angry desperation with parched throats as they tried to slake their thirst with blood.
Pit, Roxas, and Luka were well-prepared for this eventuality, however. Stealth might not be their collective strong suit, but all three could hit the albedos hard and fast. Though slathered in sticky psychoplasm, their bodies were hard but brittle, and like ceramic they crumbled when subjected to blunt force. Luka’s Weight Hammer and Pit’s Upperdash Arm proved very effective, but the ungainly monsters had no answer when Roxas combo’d them either. Together the three dispatched the albedos, a lot more ‘quickly’ than ‘quietly’, but the end result was the same. Silence settled over the residential wing once more.
When they reached the second common room, however, things got more complicated. The arrival of the Watcher forced the trio to take cover. Luka crouched down behind a faded green couch covered in psychoplasm. It swung its head around on its serpentine neck, its vile compound eyes wriggling around in their sockets as the nightmare surveyed its milk-white dominion. All the while, it filled the residential wing with the echoes of its horrible gurgling, clicking voice. With that in the background, Pit discreetly posed a question to Luka, but the Scarlet Guardian shook his head.
“I can only teleport one person at a time, and it makes a distinctive noise. Plus, if I were to teleport too hastily, the result of a matter overlap would be comparable to a nuclear bomb.”
But maybe there was another way. Despite all those bloodshot eyes crammed into the Watcher’s sockets, Roxas was on to something. It couldn’t peer everywhere at once. Luka noticed the red glow those eyes cast on all the waxy white puddles, splotches, and smears. That made it possible to gauge where the monster was looking without having to risk a peek. Luka pointed out the crimson spotlight on the wall, tracing its path with his finger as it roved around so that the others would be sure to notice. By moving individually rather than all at once, it would be easier to avoid the glare, but that meant it would be up to their judgment to move quickly.
The Watcher continued to peer around. When it was time, Luka kept a low profile, moving as fast as he could while still crouching. He kept Teleportation as an emergency last resort, but that meant contending with pockets of white ooze that squirmed and pulsated abhorrently, threatening to catch his foot if he took a careless step or snag his hand if he put his hand on the side of some cover without looking. But by moving carefully, and freezing if the Watcher’s gaze so much as veered his way, Luka made it to the far side hallway.
Once out of sight he picked up the pace in a hurry, running down the hall. At the far end, past a couple abandoned gurneys and wheelchairs, a heavy metal security door stood in their way. Its bars seemed slightly bent and clawmarks could be seen on its surface, but it had endured whatever had attempted to force its way through in the past. When Luka grabbed the handle, it refused to budge. “Locked,” he whispered.
Unfortunately, jerking the door prompted the security system to come online, revealing a wide, eye-shaped lens on the console above the handle. Nothing happened at first, but after a second the system got impatient. “Please open your eyes wide and lean close to the scanner,” a robotic voice requested, its tone just a little too loud in the area’s dead silence.
Almost instantly the Watcher leaned over to peer down the hallway, and right away it registered the intruders. It shrieked, its skull practically exploding as all its eyes extended outward on loathsome stalks, like the tentacles of a sea anemone. Enormous goopy arms began to burst up from the psychoplasm pools in the hall, each of their fingers formed from waxen facsimiles of human hands. Luka readied himself for a fight, but before he could, Roxas showed off one of his special talents unprompted; he took aim with his keyblade and unlocked the door. The trio hustled through and slammed the door shut., and though the Watcher beat on the other side, it could not break through. After a few moments the slams stopped, and the three could breathe easy.
Well, they could breathe easier. The room where they now found themselves looked like a cafeteria, situated in the northeastern-most part of the building. It was tall, occupying three stories and featuring large windows, but the bars outside the glass further reduced what little light filtered down from the gloomy sky, making it eerily dark. Mounted in all four corners were large Tvs, but they only played static, filling the room with fitful light against its faded, flaking blue wallpaper, as well as a constant low roar of harsh noise. The long tables lay barren, many of the benches that accommodated each six-person segment fallen over. Most strangely, various objects hung from the ceiling on ropes, from wheelchairs to dead TV sets to large plastic bags filled with something heavy.
“No signs of human activity here either,” Luka murmured, quiet enough to not disturb the silence that hung over this place. “The suspects may not be working on the ground floor at all. Let’s hope there’s something deeper in that might lead us to Supernatural Life.” There was only one other set of doors here, so Luka went that way, wondering why the room felt so cold.
As he reached for a handle, the doors suddenly burst open, and into the room charged Yuito and Hanabi. Both their faces were wide-eyed, slick with sweat, and white with terror. There was no sign of Raz. When she saw Luka and the others, Hanabi didn’t stop to explain. She just yelled one word. “RUN!”
“Run!?” Having avoided a collision with a quick teleport, Luka was instantly on guard. “From what?” As they ran past him, he looked down the dark, flickering hall they came from. All the way at the end stood a woman, gaunt and stooped, with rags and black hair that slowly flowed around her as if she were underwater. Luka stared, stunned for a moment. The woman took a slow, tottering step, then another, then suddenly shot down the hall. As if she were on a film that had been fast-forwarded. Anima reached the cafeteria with a scream that threw both Luka and Hanabi off their feet. The doors slammed shut behind her, and with a click they locked tight.
The former saved himself with a teleport, but as she fell Hanabi hit her head on one of the cafeteria tables and writhed on the ground, clutching her head. The ghost stalked toward Hanabi, ignoring the others, but Yuito wasn’t having any of it. “Hey! Over here!” He yelled, using his psychokinesis to draw and throw his sword. Its blade slashed through Anima several times, but to no effect, other than getting Anima’s attention. Giggling horribly, she fast-forwarded right into him, and after grabbing Yuito’s face in her hands, she began to inhale. The young man’s life force drained into her in a matter of seconds as he yelled, leaving him hollow and lightless–but rather than fall, he continued to stagger around once released, not unlike the albedos from before. Anima, meanwhile, rose into the air, letting out a victory cry. In response the tables and all the furniture in the cafeteria began to levitate. They floated around for a moment, then slammed down, creating a maze of overturned tables and benches. Now blocked from the exit, Luka hid behind one table, stricken by horror. ”Yuito? Hanabi?” In a panic he attempted to reach them both with Brain Talk, but he could hear nothing from one and cries of despair from the other, though at least those were confined to Brain Talk. ”Hanabi!” he tried to tell her. ”You have to be quiet, or it’ll get you too!” Luka couldn’t see anyone except Anima, who slowly walked through the air looking for a new target.
This was very, very bad. Somewhere Hanabi was hiding beneath a table, paralyzed by fear, with only her weeping to clue the Seekers in to where she was. Yuito was here too, clearly not dead, but Luka had no idea how to restore him, and he couldn’t teleport with all this clutter around. Everyone needed to get out of here as soon as possible, hopefully recovering the OSF members while avoiding the ghost’s attention, though that would be tricky with pieces of furniture constantly floating up and coming down elsewhere, rearranging the maze. Next to this, the Watcher looked like a warm-up. Now it was time to sneak for real.
