“…about sixteen of us down here.” Mariya furrowed her brow and was about to protest that it certainly looked like there were more than just that many, but someone else entered the scene before she could formulate how she would say it. He was a tall man with quick words which he delivered with a bit of a sneer, though his words could have almost been kind. He certainly did seem well-informed, regardless. And as he got closer and closer, he got quieter and quieter until he stood not a foot away and his last words were nothing more than a whisper. From this close she had to look up much further than she was used to, and to save her neck the pain, she took a step back. What he said was important, though. He knew what had caused their downfall? Her uncle told her that no one knew due to a mass amnesia spell, or at least that was the best that he could gather from the fact that none of those who had been there and seen the horrors could actually remember what had caused them. Somehow every memory of the battle seemed intact, but none of them held the perpetrator. But this man was suddenly claiming to know what had caused it, and apparently was willing to part with that information for a price. Uncle would want to know about this. But how would she bring the news to him? If this character did know, and she let him go, and her uncle wanted to know, then they might have lost their chance. If she brought him to her uncle right away, then she might give away their location for no good reason. Even just letting slip that she wasn’t alone might be a mistake. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to at least see what he thought the information was worth. Maybe she wouldn’t have to make any decision at all if he demanded something preposterous. --- A wicked smirk spread across Angel face, which had remained arrogantly calm, as he lazily stared at the Dweller with his crimson spectacles. It didn't take long for XIII to realize he had caught the Alchemist's attention, all it took was but a brief glimpse to understand something was a miss with her. The Crimson Asylum was a reputable Psychokinetic, though due to the nature of his ability it is often difficult for him to switch it off completely, a fortunate error in this scenario. The human mind is an enigma of complexities, and memories are but one part of its magnificence. On average the human mind possesses a 100 billion neurons and each neuron is capable of making a thousand connections, a rough estimate would make the brain's storage capabilities to be around 500 to a 1000 terrabytes. However in Angel's words, 'a man could live a hundred lives and never lose grip over his cognative functions. This is the reason why our minds never delete any information, it surpresses it no doubt but the data is forever present. If a scenario ever does surface which signifies tampering and or deletion of a memory, there is but one explanation....alchemy. "Tell me, little one," Angel spoke, his tone polite albeit laced with arrogance. "Do you feel there are gaps....in your memory? I don't mean amnesia....I mean a sensation that you literally draw a blank over a period of time....as if a memory never existed?" The Lost Number continued, his nimble fingers tapping the frame of his glasses in a repetitive melody. --- Mariya was quickly getting less and less comfortable with this character and the situation he was placing her in. The robots subtly shifted to reflect this, Frizz coming up closer and the other two slowly winding up their guns so that the interesting metronome of their clinking mechanical bits created a staccato that reverberated pleasantly to eliminate the silence that would have otherwise prevailed in the pause as she once again tried to figure out what to say to extricate herself from this situation. There was nothing pleasant about this man. He didn't try to be pleasant in any way, his face leant a conceited and wicked turn to what should have been a reassuring smile, and he looked like he knew it and liked it. And then there were his searching questions, which were not the sort to put someone at ease. You didn't come in claiming to have information about what killed someone's parents and friends and teachers and everything they had, and then ask them if they were missing memories. Especially if there really were times where she drew alarming blanks, specifically around that incident. No, there was nothing unthreatening about approaching someone in that manner. It was almost like he could read her mind, and saying the things which would cause her the most discomfort. Mariya spent a too-long time standing hesitantly between turning away or turning toward him. Her mouth hung open slightly as she flitted her eyes over him over and over again, looking for something to make up her mind, but there was nothing there. She realized that she was spending too long, and that it would do nothing but confirm his suspicions no matter what she said. But did that really matter? If she just walked away now, she could get back to her uncle and they could figure out what to do together, and meet this horrible man with some sort of plan and on their own terms. She finally made up her mind, and Carl and Ralph stopped their spinning to quickly recombine into her armored bike. "Perhaps," she said, backing toward her method of escape without turning her back on him. --- "You can't hide forever little rogue, time is a leisure we can't afford." The Crimson Asylum spoke in a grimmacing tone, the consistent tapping of his spectacles abruptly stopping. "There is a device that is blocking the use of our alchemy and complicating matters," he continued, clasping his hands toghether and pondering over the matter briefly. "This device acts like a radio jammer, it locks onto someone's frequency and causes a clutter. All Asylums share a link and as such jamming our concentration patterns is far easier, but you," XIII's finger lazily pointed at the Alchemist before him, the true objective of this little conversation was about to be revealed. "You are immune to this disturbance, the device hasn't locked onto your mental frequency...yet. Locate the device and help us destroy it, quite a simple exchange really. You help us and we help you. But like I mentioned, time is a luxory we can't afford." --- Mariya mounted her mechanical steed as Angel continued talking, motioning Frizz to come around to his mount point. She was about to bug out without response, but then noticed the small glowing red LED that indicated that Uncle's radio was connected to Frizz. Oh, great, how long had he been listening? "Hey, Uncle," she muttered, only peeking her eyes over the dash so that Angel couldn't see the holdup. "What's up?" "I was going to ask the same thing. Turn me up so that I can talk to him." Mariya grimaced, but did as Uncle had asked. "Hello there, Asylum. I've been listening in for a few minutes, but do excuse me if I don't see how your proposition helps us in the slightest."