Avatar of TheMushroomLord

Status

Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current Replace my bones with rats. I must writhe.
1 like
4 mos ago
You either die a hero or live and do something else.
1 like
5 mos ago
All fish dream of the stars.
5 mos ago
You cannot fathom my desire to install additional hinges in my bones.
1 like
5 mos ago
People are always saying that murder is bad, but you know who never gets asked? The victims. I have no idea whether murder is okay or not, but I certainly know who we should be asking about it.
2 likes

Bio

I am me... I hope.

Most Recent Posts

??? — Dilapidated Shack
@Zeroth@ERode@PKMNB0Y
Guy who picked u up stepped out. Don't worry, won't leave u alone.
Vision, smell, sound, taste, feel, uh...kinesthetics? Y/N to any?
Contact: "Down"

Oh! A message! Her plan to add contacts had worked… or at least it ended up working after the others had verbally added her to their lists – did it require a verbal command to work? It would be annoying if it did, but considering her slap-speak worked just fine for opening her status sheet, that didn’t seem quite right. Perhaps it required mutual agreement then? Whatever the case, she had a proper method of communicating now; not quite as good as the call function she’d been hoping for, but even so, texting beat slap-speak by a long shot.

Contacts: "Down"
All novel senses.
Me
Can’t see or hear, but I have something like proprioception that seems to cover my senses of touch, hearing and kinesthetics. It isn’t very good, though. It’s hard to interpret and I can barely hear through it.
Me
Is magic translation common for this kind of thing? I don’t see anything like that on my status sheet but I don’t think I should be able to understand you with my current senses.
Me
Oh, and I’ve also got something that functions similarly to smell and taste, but with my whole body. Probably not useful for the time being.
Me

Hmm, she had been asked to give a yes no answer, so maybe she should have made her answers a little more concise? Whatever, it wasn’t like she could have answered properly with a Y/N anyway, details were important.

Petra could feel her companion thumping around with something as she messed them, but couldn’t really tell what exactly it was? Were they thumping on the wall for some reason? Well, whatever the reason, they seemed to know what they were doing for the most part, so it was probably fine. Curious as she was, there were other questions that needed to be asked first.

Contacts: "Down"
You said the other guy stepped out? Does that mean we’re in a building or something? Anything I should be aware of? You seem to have a much better idea of how this all works than I do, so let me know if there’s anything I need to know. Okay?
Me

That out of the way, Petra thought about the situation for a moment longer before firing off another message.

Contacts: "Down", "Up"
You mentioned something about special abilities before. My status sheet has a skill called Biomancy on it, so I’m guessing that’s what you were talking about. I suppose in game terms that might make me a healer or something? Do either of you have abilities that might be useful?
Me

Was she actually a healer? Petra wasn’t quite sure.

On the one hand, fantasy worlds, and especially games, loved to box things into neat little archetypes, right? Fighter, healer, tank, and whatnot. So by that logic, she should probably fall into the healer category. And everything she’d done with [Biomancy] thus far matched up with that assessment provided she viewed it through the right lens – her ability to see her anatomy was just a magical diagnostic tool, and the modifications she’d made to her nervous system could be thought of as rehabilitation if she stretched the definitions a little.

But at the same time, it didn’t quite seem to fit. Even if [Biomancy] was a healing ability, was it really that common for fantasy settings to have magic systems that explicitly interacted with a modern scientific understanding of biology? Wasn’t healing magic, usually more along the lines of, ‘holy light closes your wounds, don’t think too hard about how’? Not to mention that the description on Petra’s status sheet, didn’t seem to indicate she’d be limited to healing people. If she tried, would she be able to trigger organ failure or give people cancer with a thought?

In other words, Petra needed to figure out what kind of logic ‘magic’ ran off and what its limits were, not just because [Biomancy] was currently her best bet at resolving her current limitations, but because living in a world that operated purely off fantasy tropes would require a very different approach to living in one that somehow combined ‘real’ and fantasy logic.
??? — Dilapidated Shack
@Zeroth@ERode@PKMNB0Y
As soon as Petra was placed back onto solid ground, her body automatically reformed itself back into its designated shape. Petra couldn’t help but find the fact that her new body acted without her direct input to be somewhat disconcerting, but she tried not to be bothered by it anyway – if she really thought about it, it wasn’t all that different from the way a human body would right itself while standing or walking, even if it was a fair bit less subtle. If anything, it was probably good to see confirmation the ‘instincts’ she’d crafted for her body would continue working even after she stopped focusing on them.

With the imminent risk of falling apart behind her, and her companions seeming to have acknowledged her as a human – or rather, a former human – Petra turned her attention to the people she shared the space with. She was pretty sure there were two of them by now, though she supposed it was possible that there were others nearby that simply hadn’t spoken or moved yet.

Petra wasn’t shy per se, but she was the type to struggle with getting to know people, rarely bothering to interact with people outside of uni or her close friend group. She had no clue how some people were so easily able to form opinions about others; in her experience seemingly nice people could turn out to be shitty once you got to know them, and she knew well enough about fundamental attribution error to realise that judging people on a bad interaction was silly…

Well, she could say all that, but at the same time she certainly didn’t like being picked up so casually, so fallacious or not, her initial opinion of the person that’d done so wasn’t exactly great. As for the one that’d put her back down, she gave them a slightly better judgement – they had suggested that she might be lying, but that was a technically true statement, so whatever. Petra mentally labelled the pair, ‘Up’ and ‘Down’ respectively. Now she just needed to find four more companions to dub Top, Bottom, Charm and Strange, and she’d have a full set…

Personal musings aside, Petra focused on listening to her companions talk. Rather frustratingly, what passed for her current method of hearing wasn’t very good, and Petra found herself unable to parse a lot of what was said, having to painstakingly piece the gaps in what she could make out through context.

From what she was able to gather, Down seemed to be talking about survival strategies, something Petra hadn’t even considered since waking up in her new body. In hindsight, Petra realised that was an incredibly stupid oversight on her part, both in terms of the fact that she’d just been in a plane accident and had no idea where she was, and because she hadn’t yet tried to figure out what she’d need to do to survive in her new body specifically. Beyond survival, Down observed Petra’s difficulties speaking and suggested she try ‘farting’ to communicate; somewhat crude wording aside, that was actually a decent idea – at least assuming she could actually draw safely gas into her body and expel it without popping or something, that might be a more effective means of communicating than repeatedly slapping herself. Petra’s opinion of Down went up a notch.

There was some more conversation that Petra struggled to make much out of beyond, the worlds “plane”, “world”, and something about “America”. Was he trying to confirm that they were all involved in the accident? She really couldn’t tell with how little she’d been able to hear.

Fuck it, losing her sight or hearing would have been bad enough on its own, but losing both at the same time wasn’t something she was prepared or willing to live with. Risks be damned, the moment she got the time, Petra would look for a way to use the strange new power that let her mess with her biology to improve her hearing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already used it to perform DIY neurosurgery on herself.

Desperate as she was, however, autosurgury something Petra was willing to rush into, so for the time being, Petra settled for cobbling together a ‘hearing program’, slowly extending a pseudopod into the air, before painstakingly trying to force it to mould itself into a shape like a jackrabbits' ear. Just a few seconds of trying and failing to create a shape even remotely convex was all it took for it to become abundantly clear to Petra that doing so was well and truly beyond her current skill level, and she had to settle for simply flattening the pseudopod out as much as she could without collapsing it. Not long after, Petra sported several new, vaguely leaf shaped, ridges atop her body, that while misshapen enough to give a preschooler’s drawings a run for their money, at least let her 'hear' a little better.

"As f-far as we can tell...we're somewhere that isn't home. I found this, earlier: Status!"
"... Can you see this? Or open your own?"

Status? Petra couldn’t see what the guy was talking about, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise since she couldn’t see at all. Tentatively, Petra spoke the word Down had exclaimed – or slapped the word out, rather – and was surprised when a text box appeared within her otherwise empty ‘field of view’.

Despite video games not really being her thing, Petra wasn’t quite so uncultured as not to recognise the gaminess of the status sheet in front of her. Some part of her felt incredulous at the numbers listed on her screen, the idea that a person's capabilities could be abstracted into just a few numbers not sitting right with her. And what the hell was the Luck stat? People could get lucky, sure, but there was a difference between circumstances lining up to make something subjectively good happen and some kind of ontological luckiness trait; if something like that existed, science would have discovered it a long time ago.

Actually, if she thought about it for a moment, Stats were almost certainly something other than straight representations of her physical and ‘metaphysical’ capacity. Luck aside, she couldn’t think of any reasonable way someone would describe her current body as being exactly as dexterous as it was strong or agile. Petra added Stats to the list of things she’d need to figure out, along with levels, and pretty much everything else on her status sheet for that matter.

Thankfully, while Petra felt less than confident with her own knowledge of gaming culture, at least one of her companions seemed to be well versed in the subject. She still wasn’t sure about how much she wanted to believe things ran off video game logic here – the idea of magic, dragons, elves, and whatever other fantasy tropes possibly existing, was discordant with her understanding of the underlying mechanisms of how the universe worked – but, that said, she’d already seen and even performed several things that very much seemed to be supernatual, so she’d have to throw out at least some of her presuppositions regardless.

Speaking of, Down mentioned something about getting a specail ability being normal for the genre? Sure enough, scanning through her status sheet Petra quickly found a section for Skills, empty save for the lone entry of [Biomancy]. Expanding the Skill and reading its description made it immediately clear that this was the ‘magic’ she’d been performing before. That was yet another thing she’d have to do a deep dive into later – but more importantly for the time being, while it was far from conclusive evidence, it certainly lent a degree of credibility to the idea that this world ran on genre tropes and game logic.

If Down’s predictions about dragons, and adventurer guilds, and demon lords, also turn out to be correct, she’d need to seriously evaluate some of her fundamental beliefs about the way the world worked. Either way, for now, he seemed to be her best bet, both for surviving this mess and for testing just what kind of logic this world ran off, so she’d definitely be following him if she could.

Before that though, there was one other thing on her status sheet that had caught her interest – or at least caught it more than everything else – “Contacts”. Did that mean like contacts on a phone? Would she be able to talk through it? Expanding the Contacts list, Petra found it to be just as empty as the 0 next to it had implied, but that was probably fine, she just needed to find a way to add them. Willing it with all her might just as she had with her magic, Petra waited a second as absolutely nothing happened… Damn it!

“Ad̵d… con̴t̸act… ̸a̶dd… D̸ow̸n̵, U̷p̶… ad̸d…”
??? — Dilapidated Shack
@Zeroth@ERode@PKMNB0Y
It took Petra a bit to figure out the art of locomotion. Her first attempt had been to form herself into a ball and to rotate her ‘innards’ in such a way as to roll around, but actually forming – and more importantly, maintaining – a shape that refined had proven quite challenging, and she’d ended up giving up once it became clear that even if she could manage it her body simply didn’t have the rigidity to prevent itself from deforming under its own weight.

Her next attempt was to simply shift her mass along the ground, which worked, but it was slow enough to give Petra the impression that she'd make snails look like Olympic sprinters if she tried it. Actually taking a cue from snails worked a little better, rolling her ‘foot’ in a wave motion, so as to propel herself forwards, though coordinating the whole program such that it wouldn’t simply spin her in circles was a nightmare and in the end it was still agonisingly slow. Whatever, it’d have to do for now.

Extracting herself from whatever it was she’d been under, Petra didn’t have time to get her bearings – not that she was quite sure how to go about doing so in the first place – before she felt the ground beneath her shake – a rather unusual sensation considering she only had that strange sense of proprioception with which to feel out the way the vibrations caused her body to subtly deform.

Petra wasn't able to modify her mental programming in time to carry her back under her shelter before the approaching thing grabbed her, lifting her mass into the air. By some miracle, the programming Petra had created continued to pull her mass inwards as she was lifted, because without it, she was pretty sure she’d have literally fallen apart. Whatever it was that picked her up, it was clean – far cleaner than her environment at least – but it ‘tasted’ distinctly organic.

Was it a person? Did they know she was a person? Were they going to kill her?

Before she could do anything, Petra’s train of thought was cut short. A vibration, transferred both through the arms that had picked her up and the air surrounding her body hit her. The vibration really shouldn’t have made any sense to her – even if it happened to be in English, her current senses were simply too far removed from actual hearing for her to even have the slightest chance at understanding – and yet somehow the meaning behind the words was seamlessly imprinted upon Petra’s mind.

“You.”

Just as she’d been able to perceive and modify her anatomy, Petra was met with yet another seemingly supernatural effect. This time in her apparent ability to translate what really should have been gibberish. Was it magic of some kind? She didn’t feel any noticeable difference in the drain compared to her other two seemingly supernatural feats, so was this somehow different from those?

“Were you human too? Give a proper sign.”

Oh, right. The catastrophe at hand. They wanted to know if she'd been human. That was probably a good sign! Or maybe a really, really bad one, but nonetheless it seemed as though it was her best option given the circumstances. Just one problem; how exactly was she meant to give a proper sign?

Petra briefly considered morse code as an option, until she remembered that she knew exactly two letters of that. Binary was another option, but that seemed like it’d take a while and would require her captor to be able to translate it… what about the translation function then? Did it work both ways?

Testing her idea, Petra started forming a new program to extrude a new pseudopod and repetedly slap it against her body. Somehow she only fucked up twice in this endeavour and neither failure resulted in any loss of mass – she was truly getting better at that, her burgeoning mastery of her own body surely a good first step towards mastery of the entire globe.

The wet sounding slaps really shouldn’t have had any meaning to them beyond their constant pattern, but what was language if not patterns people had prescribed special meaning to? Assuming she could translate her own sounds in the same way she had the other person’s – which was admittedly a pretty big assumption – there really shouldn’t be a reason she couldn’t just make up the meanings to words as she went…

“̴H̵̶̶̦͉̓̌u̵m̴̶̴̠̦̊̽á̶̶̴̳͇͠n̷… ̷y̵ę̵̶̶̝̿̀s̶… ̷m̷ȩ̴̵̷̥̐̕… ̷W̶a̴s̷– ̷h̶u̵m̵a̴n̵… I wa̴s hum̴a̴n, yes̷.”
??? — Dilapidated Shack
@Zeroth@ERode@PKMNB0Y
Black. Everything was black. It was as though Petra had been plunged into complete darkness. Actually no, maybe that wasn’t quite the right way to describe it… The experience felt less like an absence of light and so much as an absence of her sight altogether; as though the pieces of her brain that were supposed to process the information coming from her eyes simply didn’t exist anymore.

What was going on?

Petra focused on her muddled memories, slowly trying to piece together what exactly had happened. That was right, she’d been on a flight hadn’t she? And something had gone horribly wrong… had her plane been attacked? It had all happened so fast and her memories were all jumbled up – not neatly organised like she generally kept them – which made it hard for her to tell. Hard enough that Petra couldn’t make heads or tails of what had happened. Even so she could remember one thing, in those frantic few moments before she’d blacked out she’d been badly injured and had been sure she was going to die.

Well, fortunately, it seemed like that prediction had been wrong, she wasn’t dead – not yet at least. Though apparently she couldn’t see or hear – or feel anything from most of her senses for that matter – an experience she quickly decided was deeply unnerving . On the bright side, she wasn’t hurting anywhere despite very much recalling having been hurt somehow before she lost consciousness; although, considering the circumstances perhaps that wasn’t a silver lining.

Had her brain been damaged in whatever incident she’d gotten caught up in? Was she currently bleeding out in the wreckage of the plane, this whole experience a hallucination conjured up by her oxygen starved brain in its final moments?

Petra pushed that line of reasoning down before it could pull her into a panic. If she were imminently going to die, freaking out about it would only make that death more uncomfortable, and if she had time before she died then panicking still wouldn’t help. What she needed to focus on right now was something tangible. Something actionable.

Focusing her attention inwards, Petra latched onto whatever she could find. While the senses she was familiar with and had spent her whole life growing to rely on where all gone – sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, and even most of the more esoteric ones like balance and temperature – were all apparently gone, Petra could still feel some manner of sensation on the peripheries of her mind.

The first and most profound of her senses was what she thought must have once been her sense of proprioception. Petra was pretty sure the sense seemed a hell of a lot more refined and pronounced than it ever had before now – perhaps a side effect of her being cut off from all other sensory input – at least until she actually took note of what the sense was trying to tell her.

If it were to be believed, her body was some kind of puddle or blob, its central mass slowly shrinking as it painstakingly spread itself across the ground in a network of tendrils like roots or veins. In other words, whatever brain damage had taken away her other senses had also fucked this one up.

Turning her attention to her next sense, Petra found it to be even more useless and broken than the last. It was almost like taste or smell, but with her entire body and somehow experienced as something closer to touch than either taste or smell.

Pushing the smell-touch aside, Petra tried to focus her attention on the next sense in her arsenal, but found herself coming up empty… That was it? That couldn’t be it right? Just two broken senses that would do nothing to help her in her current situation…

Petra felt the panic she’d pushed down just moments earlier started to creep back up on her. When she’d had something more important to focus on she’d been able to push all that aside, but now what was she meant to do?

Panic mounting Petra desperately searched for something, anything, that she could use, until she felt a sort of draining sensation from some esoteric part of herself she hadn’t previously been aware of and her perception was flung inward, into her body. Where just a moment before Petra had been struggling with the lack of information her remaining senses were feeding her, suddenly she found herself instead overwhelmed by the sheer amount she was receiving.

Countless processes and interactions danced around Petra’s consciousness, working together like some kind of impossibly complex Rube Goldberg machine running off the chaos of the universe itself. It probably took Petra a full minute to calm down enough to actually process what she was seeing, and a further minute or two beyond that to actually comprehend it. Was she looking at her cellular processes? Somehow she was certain she was.

Petra wasn’t sure how long she spent just staring at the countless chemical reactions that somehow came together to constitute her, but with almost herculean effort she eventually managed to tear her focus away from it. It was beautiful certainly, and interesting beyond comparison – without a doubt she’d be back to explore every inch of her anatomy later – but right now what she needed to see was the bigger picture.

Through force of will, Petra shifted her perspective, zooming out and away from the molecules that constituted the most basic building blocks of her biology, in favour of viewing her body as a whole. Well, shit. For the briefest of moments Petra thought her body must have been completely splattered in the accident and that that was what she was looking at, but only for a moment before she realised that didn’t make sense since she was clearly still alive and thinking – not the apparent truth of the matter made all that much more sense.

Apparently Petra had been too quick to dismiss her remaining senses as faulty earlier; at some point while she was out, her consciousness had apparently been transferred to some kind of amorphous blob.

Petra probably freaked out about the state of her body for at least a couple of minutes before her curiosity once again took over as her dominant emotion. In retrospect, it probably said something about her mental state that she was able to get over such an extreme change so quickly, but in all fairness, she wasn’t exactly over the change so much as just really, really curious about it.

Her body really was branching out like she’d sensed before, though it did so incredibly slowly, spreading out in a manner she found vaguely reminiscent of a slime mould feeding. Actually, based on what she was ‘tasting’ through the vein-like projections that now comprised the bulk of her mass, she was pretty sure it was more than vaguely reminiscent of a slime mould eating.

Zooming her focus in on one of her feeding pseudopods, it doesn’t take long for Petra to witness a clump of organic matter get drawn into her body. Expecting to see the foreign cells get dragged off to some sort of digestive cavity for processing, Petra is surprised to see them instead torn apart on the spot before being engulfed by specialised cells for digestion.

Intracellular digestion? Wasn’t that a super basal trait? Wouldn’t that put her quite a long way from anything even remotely human? Even cnidarians had gastrovascular cavities.

Intrigued by her observation, Petra did a quick scan of her body, and sure enough, despite finding a massive variety of different cell types and proteins spread throughout her body, Petra couldn’t find anything even remotely resembling a proper organ. She did at least have a nervous system of some description, so she was definitely an animal of some description, but certainly not a vertebrate. Actually, screw not being a vertebrate, wouldn’t this all suggest that whatever she was, the last common ancestor it shared with a human was probably somewhere between a jellyfish and a fucking sea sponge?

Putting aside the realisation that, biologically speaking, she now probably shared more in common with the most primitive animal alive than she did with her own parents, Petra returned her attention to her still feeding body. Her body didn’t seem to be having any problems acting on autopilot and doing its own thing, but even so, Petra wasn’t completely comfortable with eating entirely unidentified substances. It was probably fine, but Petra couldn’t help but picture images of wild bears with metre long tapeworms dragging behind them – she knew full well how frequently wild animals got parasites in the wild, and she didn’t particularly want to take any chances.

Willing her body to stop doing its thing, just as she would to stop a shiver or involuntary tremor, Petra watched as exactly nothing happened, not so much as a nerve impulse to indicate that her body had even registered her command in the first place.

If Petra still had a stomach, she probably would have felt it drop the moment she realised her body wasn’t actually under her control, and it took all her willpower not to start blindly panicking then and there. She reminded herself again that even if she did panic, it wouldn’t achieve anything other than prolonging the time it would take her to figure out a solution.

First thing first, Petra focused her attention on what exactly her pseudopods were doing as they fed and it quickly became apparent to her that rather than performing actions based on some immutable genetic programming, her pseudopods instead seemed to be receiving instructions through her nervous system. That was probably good to know. Her awareness tracing the nerves through the pseudopod, Petra followed them until she reached a cluster of neurons, a ganglion smaller even than a grain of sand but just one of countless such grains spread throughout Petra’s body.

While she obviously had a distributed nervous system of some description, tracing her nerve pathways, Petra found that she possessed a sort of cordoned off inner membrane within which her physical composition was slightly altered, and more importantly, the density of her ganglia was far greater. It took Petra a while of just watching the intricate dance of nerve impulses, both within and outside of her ‘core’, before she was able to so much as guess at how it all worked.

As far as Petra could tell, all her ganglia were either dedicated to processing sensory information or towards using that information in order to coordinate her bodies physical actions – which for the most part seemed to be finding and engulfing food. All of Petra’s ‘sensory ganglia’ were, and while she possessed ‘decision-ganglia’ outside of her core, it seemed the vast majority of them were contained within it. Well, perhaps decision-ganglia wasn’t the best moniker she could give the things, since observing the process she got the distinct impression it was more or less deterministic.

What was the point though? The who set up seemed like overkill for the apparently very simple behaviours of her species; Petra didn’t think a brain was all that necessary for the behaviours she’d shown thus far, but certainly not a relatively sophisticated one like this; if anything her ‘brain’ seemed as though it’d be more of an energy sink than anything else.

Taking a step back, Petra tried looking at the bigger picture. The fact that she was confused about this meant that either she was misunderstanding something or there was a currently a gap in her knowledge. Well, there were definitely gaps in her knowledge… More importantly, the ‘why do I have a brain’ question wasn’t important to her current situation, even if it was interesting, in other words, it was something she could look into later, once her immediate problems were solved.

Speaking of which, after analysing her brain for some time, Petra finally felt as though she might have a solution to her current predicament. Some small part of her insisted that trying to fuck with what passed as her brain was probably an absurdly bad idea, but then again, would being stuck as a passenger in her own body be any better? Maybe actually, there was so much cool shit to study in here… but that was beside the point!

In any case, it was pretty clear to Petra, that whatever mechanism by which she was now inhabiting this body, there was no way her mind was actually running on its ‘hardware’ so to speak – its nervous system was simply too simple for that to make sense. That probably meant it wouldn’t irrevocably fuck her up if she messed with that hardware a little… Maybe... if she was lucky.

On a hunch, Petra focused her will, just as she had when she’d thrown her awareness into her body and willed it to bend to her wishes. It felt vaguely like she was pushing into a wall with her thoughts and after a moment of nothing seeming to happen, just when she was about to give up, she felt some kind of resistance give way, and that same draining feeling that had started when she’d first ‘entered’ her body briefly got a lot worse as her network of pseudopods stopped spreading entirely.

Petra made sure to spend a few moments running tests on herself – mostly doing maths and word games in her head – just in case she had ended up fundamentally breaking something in her brain. When she felt reasonably confident that she was fine – or at least as fine as she could be given the circumstances – Petra set about fixing the remainder of her pseudopod problem.

Her work was slow and clunky at first – more or less requiring her to ‘program’ herself new instincts in a language she didn’t understand – and she occasionally made mistakes – causing pseudopods to forcibly separate themselves from her body or to simply slough off it – but as she progressed her skills gradually improved, and by the time she was done, she’d managed to retract herself into an almost round bell like shape.

Pleased with her handiwork, Petra began mentally cackling to herself in a symbolic gesture that just felt right for the situation. She briefly considered trying to create a ‘program’ to make her body jiggle in time with her manic laughter, but even if she was channelling her inner mad scientist, considering she’d already just lost a not insignificant amount of her mass just trying to retract her pseudopods, she decided not to try again with her entire body on the line. Instead, she set about trying to create a means of moving her body along the ground.

Now that she was actually listening to her senses, Petra could tell she had something on top of her, though she didn’t get the impression it was particularly heavy or anything.
Will keep an eye on this. Isekai truly is brainrot, regardless of my thoughts on the genre outside of RP.


Isekai is for intellectuals of the highest calibre, who, without appropriate materials upon which to dull their minds, would find it all but impossible to relate with the common man.
Also interested.

All Tandems | Bank
June 19, 2021

Tandem was not having a good time. Most of the time having multiple trains of thought was great – planning was so much easier when you had three times the minds to work with and bounce ideas off – but then there were the situations where having three minds was decidedly less fun. Being on the verge of total breakdown, the panic from each mind feeding into and amplifying that of the other two, was definitely fell into the less fun category.

Even so, her panic itself was the last thing on any of Tandem’s minds right now. Even as tears stung her eyes and the force of her hyperventilation made her chest ache, Tandem forced her panic down to the back of her minds. It was just background noise. Something, she couldn’t afford to think about. Right now, she had to focus on the situation at hand, as hard as it might be to do so.

Right, she had plans for this sort of thing, lots and lots of plans. Even when things as minor as keeping her breathing under control felt insurmountable to her, Tandem could always fall back on her plans. Plans meant a degree of safety. As long as she could plan, she had a measure of control, even when things were totally out of control.

What was the first step? Manage her clones – that was always the first step. Letting them just stand around dumbstruck was a bad idea, and teleporting them around randomly wasn’t much better. She needed to keep herselves moving, far enough from each other that they’d be difficult to injure all at once, but not so far apart as to limit her mobility. Done.

What came next? Finding the hostages, they were the priority here.

Rapidly shunting her bodies between floors, Tandem spent only a fraction of a second in any given room, skipping them entirely if they didn’t seem likely to hold the hostages, or she saw signs that the mercenary capes might be present – just enough time to verify that the hostages probably weren’t there, before moving onto the next floor. As fast as she was going, she thought there was a decent chance she’d miss the hostages entirely and have to do a second sweep, but even so, she felt this was the fastest method of searching.

In the end, her concerns about needing to loop back turned out not to be unfounded. On what she figured must have been pretty close to the top floor, she found the hostages, huddled up near the centre of the room. It was obvious Blackburn had been here – hostages aside – from the puddles of liquid metal spread throughout the area. Tandem had seen quite a few of Ironside’s puddles on her way up, but even compared to some of the other areas of the building, this seemed like a lot.

The moment the hostages noticed her they immediately began begging her to leave in hushed whispers, and in an instant what meagre resolve Tandem had managed to build up crumbled as she was thrown back into the place she spent her every moment trying to avoid.

Tandem had thought about hostage situations a lot over the past 5 years, but on some level, the concept still didn’t make much sense to her. If you had a hostage, hurting or killing them would only serve to drive down the value of that hostage and more importantly it would make it far more difficult for people to negotiate with you in the first place. It was seemingly in the villain’s best interest to never hurt a hostage, but at the same time, if you never hurt a hostage then the threat wouldn’t hold any value.

To Tandem, the whole idea of hostage-taking seemed like a poorly thought out plan at best, one that didn’t make any logical sense if you thought it through to its conclusion, but at the same time she knew it worked because people weren’t logical under pressure. People made stupid decisions when they panicked, and so the threat worked. She knew that much all too well.

Before Tandem’s thoughts could spiral any further, she was snapped out of them by a horrible shrieking sound, a sudden surge of adrenaline snapping her back into reality as her three sets of eyes locked onto the massive humanoid construct that she had to assume Kintsugi had created. Tandem hardly had time to register the creature’s arrival, let alone to take stock of its features, before it charged at her, just barely managing to dismiss the clone it targeted before that clone was annihilated.

Though she honestly couldn’t say when, apparently at some point while she’d been out of it, Tandem had thrown up – the half-digested instances of the nutrient smoothies she had to drink, coating the insides of her masks and dripping down the front of her costume. Tandem hardly gave it any thought, only sparing a fraction of a moment to inventory the worst of the mess.

She’d fucked up again. She should have kept her mind on the plan rather than freaking out. Should have searched and secured the area once she’d found the hostages. Instead, she’d spent however long freaking out over nothing, and now she was paying the price for it.

The urgency of the situation the only thing keeping Tandem from slipping back into breakdown mode, she began desperately trying to piece together a plan for dealing with the Kintsugi’s construct. She was almost certain it was physically a lot stronger than her, not to mention more durable, but at least as far as she could tell it didn’t have any good options for attacking all of her bodies at once, not unless she brought her clones together for some reason. As much as she thought the idea of trying to slot powers into generic catchall categories, right now it really seemed as though she was up against a ‘generic brute’ type, at least until she could figure out more about the power that created it.

First thing first, she should try to debilitate the construct from a distance. To start with, Tandem tried conjuring up a sheet of paint directly above the concrete man. While the thing did have a head, it didn’t seem to have a face or any sensory ‘organs’ that Tandem could make out, even so that didn’t necessarily mean it didn’t ‘see’ through its surface or something, and even if it didn’t, it cost her basically nothing to check. At the same time that she was trying to blind the construct, another instance of Tandem set about creating a large puddle of lubricant, stretching the floor between the construct and the third Tandem whom the construct appeared to be targeting.

A moment was all it took for Tandem to determine that neither tactic would be effective against the construct.

Covering the creature in paint did little more than make the thing more colourful. There was still a chance it was detecting its surroundings by something like sound or touch, but in all likelihood, it was using a more esoteric, power-based method, in either case, even if she could find a way to cripple its senses it probably wouldn’t be worth the time it took to figure it out.

As for her attempt to trip the creature up, either it was too heavy for it to be easily slipped or whatever mechanism it used to move its body also prevented it from slipping. Tandem briefly considered giving ball bearings a shot but decided not to for the time being; it might work, but it was a lot harder for her power to clean up and might end up catching her allies or the hostages if they needed to move.

With her initial probing attempts having failed to find an opening, Tandem switched instead to trying to use physical barriers to control its movements, rapidly constructing piles of sandbags, bricks, and other such materials from within her inventory in the creature's path. Unfortunately, this too failed to restrict it to any meaningful degree, the living statue simply ignoring the obstructions at best and at worst creating dangerous showers of shrapnel as it barrelled right through them. Tandem quickly abandoned that idea.

Feeling as though her attempts at restricting the construct weren’t helping, Tandem decided to switch to the offensive. Provided the concrete it appeared to be made of wasn’t reinforced by Kintsugi’s power, she felt pretty sure she could do some damage if she hit it with her manhole cover, but with the way the construct moved around, that was a pretty big if. You’d think a creature that big and literally made of stone would be less agile than it was… What else was there?



Immediately after dismissing one of her clones to avoid yet another charge from the monster, Tandem created a replacement clone directly behind it, the new clone reaching out to grab onto the constructs arm. It was hard to tell just by looking at the thing, but depending on how exactly Kintsugi’s power created the constructs it was possible they were made up of multiple smaller parts, in which case she might be able to simply shunt those parts off into her inventory.

The Tandem felt her stomach drop the moment it touched the concrete man, and the other two visibly flinched when their other received the constructs backhand, getting hit hard enough to be flung back several paces by the blow. Tandem had thought she’d gotten used to the experience of being maimed or dying, but it turned out that it was a whole other story when she wasn’t the one inflicting it on herself.

While the injured Tandem writhed in agony, the two watching Tandem’s observed that in a single attack, the construct had almost certainly broken a lot within their counterpart. They almost reflexively dismissed the injured clone, if only to end the pain, but held off – the constructs focus still appeared to be on the crippled Tandem and this was too good of an opportunity to pass up for comfort.

Pushing as much of the pain of the injury onto another Tandem, the injured one forced herself back onto her feet, even as the construct closed what little distance it had created between them. Meanwhile, the final Tandem instance adopted a stance as though she were about to throw a fastball, though she held nothing in her hand. She just needed to hold it still for a second, and then she could end this.

Just as the construct had taken the last step and was about to bare down on the injured Tandem, something that was somehow far larger than it came hurtling through the window, seeming to home in on the construct before in the blink of an eye the newcomer had grabbed and thrown the Kintsugi’s creation out of the newly opened up hole in the wall. The whole thing happening so fast, that even with three pairs of eyes watching it happen, it still took Tandem a second to comprehend what had happened. Bird guy had just taken out in a second the enemy that Tandem had struggled to do exactly nothing to for the better part of a minute.

"I-Is...Is everyone alright...?"

Her teammate's voice snapped Tandem out of her daze. She was not in fact alright, but that didn’t matter right now.

Tandem had been panicking during the fight, but it’d been an almost useful sort of panic, one that left her relatively clearheaded and let her focus on what needed to be done. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade, however, Tandem found herself rapidly reverting to a far less controlled sort of panic. She needed something to focus on.

Right, the hostages.

Tandem took a moment to replace her clones, first the badly injured one, followed shortly by the one she’d been using to take on the brunt of the injured one’s pain. The new instances didn’t hesitate before setting about their task, quickly moving to obstruct all entrances and exits to the room, save for the massive hole in the wall, with various materials from her inventory. Only once that was done did Tandem begin running around trying to systematically remove each and every one of the many metallic puddles that filled the room, shunting the stuff into her inventory.

A buzzing in her ear briefly startled Tandem before she realised it was just the comms device she’d been given. It was Keystone on the other end, and Tandem was particularly careful to actually listen to the thinker’s advice. Using containment foam on the waypoints would have been a great idea, if she’d actually had any, and it would have been a game changer against the Kintsugi construct. If only she actually had any.

Tandem recalled back to when she’d requested to receive several gallons of the raw containment foam fluid, and had been offered the grenades instead. She’d rejected the offer at the time, thinking at the time she might be able to strong-arm the Protectorate into giving into her demands if she did, but in hindsight her stubbornness had been really stupid.

Also, on the topic of the comms devices, Decree had contacted her earlier asking to be told if she found the hostages, hadn’t she? Not that it really should have mattered. Tandem should have been in contact with her teammates from the get-go, especially for important things like having found the hostages or putting them in danger, but the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Yet another way she’d fucked up.

Having left it in her inventory for quite some time, Tandem was able to activate her own comms device with preternatural ease, though it still took her a moment to actually remember the process for doing so.

“Um, this is Tandem. I’ve located the hostages somewhere near the top of the building… Bird guy is also here. I’ve put barricades up in front of the entrances, but I can remove those if anyone needs to get in. There are a lot of Ironside’s puddles in here, but I’m removing them now.”

Tandem couldn’t manage to keep the shaking out of her voice and she spoke fast enough that she would likely be somewhat hard to understand, but right now she couldn’t afford to stress about minor details like that. To an outside observer, Tandem would not appear to be in a good state, while any sign of injury had vanished along with the only injured clone, Tandem somehow managed to appear exhausted even through her mask and costume, her breath uneven and her shirt covered in the now crusting remains of when she threw up on herself, shivering violently in the aftermath of the adrenaline spike.

“Are you able to start flying people down to safety.” Tandem addressed Muninn. She didn’t bother turning off her comms device, it was probably better if their teammates knew what they were doing or at the very least that Keystone was able to point out any bad ideas she had. “Also, to any people not currently being carried down, I need you to watch the puddles and warn me if anything happens… please.”

With that, Tandem turned her full attention back to clearing out Ironside’s waypoints as fast as possible.

All Tandems | Bridgewater Bank
June 19, 2021

It took 10 minutes for the Wards to be loaded up into a van and driven to the bank where the robbery was taking place. Along the way, they were briefed on the details of the robbery and suggestions were made as to how they might handle the situation. Tandem didn’t particularly agree with the suggestions made for her – she could better utilise her power if she operated her clones together, especially if she was going to be putting those bodies at risk, not to mention that she couldn’t separate them by more than 24 feet in the first place.

Despite her disagreements, Tandem didn’t voice her opinion on the matter, they were only suggestions after all, and in any case, she was distracted by something that had been mentioned earlier in the briefing.

There were hostages. It was a hostage situation in a bank.

When that part had first been mentioned in the briefing, anyone paying Tandem any mind at all, or even just looking her way really, would have noticed her clones flickering in and out of existence for a few seconds after the fact. Dismissed and replaced one after the other in a desperate attempt to cut off the inevitable trains of thought before they could take root. It hadn’t worked, and now, whatever excitement she’d felt only minutes earlier at the prospect of engaging with capes in a proper fight, was completely gone, replaced by an all-consuming panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Tandem was standing outside the bank building. Right. She’d teleported out the moment the van had come to a stop. She had to focus…

It was one of the things she’d thought about a lot since signing up for the Wards, so she knew the first thing she should do was get her hands on a proper weapon. She might have to fight someone, and while she had plenty of things she could use, it’d be a problem if the Protectorate found out she was carrying even a fraction of the stuff she was.

Scanning about, Tandem quickly spotted what she was looking for. Creating a clone over by a manhole, she quickly used its foot to shunt the cover into her inventory. The manhole cover would be far too heavy to throw with her own strength, but she didn’t need to rely on that in order to throw it with her power, and its weight would allow it to do quite a bit of damage to whatever she threw it at.

Normally, the idea of using her power for something like that would get Tandem excited, but somehow the fact that today she might end up actually needing to do it made it distinctly less so. She didn’t want to hurt anyone… An imagining of what the manhole might do to a person if she launched it at them, bubbled to the surface of the clone that’d collected its mind, and she quickly replaced the clone.

No. It was just a precaution. It was fine. She didn’t have time to think about that right now. What she needed to do was plan. Figure out a way to make sure everything stayed okay.

Right. The hostages.

Could they find a way to get the hostages out, or short of that, secure wherever the hostages were being held before they could be executed? That might work, right? Hornet could probably identify where all the hostages were being kept, sorta like they’d talked about before, and Keystone might be able to do something similar with his power. Then it’d just be a matter of getting into the room, which probably wouldn’t be all that hard with two teleporters and a flyer on the team, after which they could work on protecting everyone.

Bang!

Just as a plan started to come together in Tandem’s mind, a loud bang rang out from inside the building, causing all three of Tandem to jump and shattering what little stability she’d managed to regain.

Suddenly whatever plan Tandem had been formulating was gone from her minds, and she found herself having teleported her bodies directly into the bank.

If being outside the bank had been bad, being inside the bank was a nightmare to Tandem. She vaguely registered that Decree had said something in her earpiece, but her attention was elsewhere so she couldn't say what; actually seeing the hostages forced memories Tandem had long since repressed back up to the surface of her mind, and this time there was no just dismissing the offending body. She’d started to hyperventilate at some point, her breaths seeming to get shallower and more rapid with every passing moment.

Tandem felt tears starting to sting at her eyes, and bile rising in one of her throats; she shunted it all into her inventory. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself, getting to test out her ideas on capes was supposed to be fun, right?
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