[i][right][sub](Addressing: [@Irredeemable]) [/sub][/right][/i] There's something evil in the air. In New Beijing, Oligarchs have gone missing. To the ECU, the source would seem obvious: those White Flower rebels who have wrested control from their local governments. Except... well, it couldn't be them. Firstly, because they chose to imprison Oligarchs in tight little cells instead of outright killing them. And secondly, because these kills are far, far too efficient. Like it wasn't even human. Like a machine did it. A machine. Something made of metal and smooth surfaces, with a face like death itself. Someone spotted that, exactly that, prowling outside an Oligarch's villa. This was a while ago, before they all fled the city. Except that one never got the chance to flee, because he was found dead the next morning. Along with ten security guards, four protectors, and his wife. Bullet analysis suggests all shots were fired from their own guns. Three days ago, a cell was found empty. Something had pried the bars open. Then it had slipped inside, and gutted the high-up protector imprisoned there. The White Flowers had put him there for 'safekeeping' until trials could be held; this was one they would never have to try. Security cameras fizzed out as it approached, whatever it was, but the other prisoners heard the echoes of clanging footsteps. Then they heard the protector scream. Yesterday, an Oligarch who publicly espoused anti-cyborg rhetoric went missing in a small town outside the city. When they found his body, everyone thought the Flowers must have done it. But what Flower would have cut out his tongue, after killing him? Today, finally, today, action is taken. The White Flowers of New Beijing are determined to be a real government, and not only a lawless mob. This thing may be killing their enemies, but it is still killing on the streets the Flowers claim as their own. So, even with the lights blaring and the music flashing, they put together a response. Flyers are printed out and plastered to street corners, poles, windows and- with some irony- the ever-present screens, offering a reward for information or the capture of this new nemesis: the so-called "[b]Demon of Zeta[/b]." [center][b]~~~~~~~~[/b][/center] [i][right][sub](Addressing: [@SgtEasy]) (Starring: Abadi) [/sub][/right][/i] The ECU segment of the Meeting Place is, for want of a better term, on fire. Well, not literally (except for one small table in the bar), but all of the energy and panic of a fire is present. On a screen mounted in the center of the grand hall, arrayed around with gloss and curtains, their fate is flipping by. Three cities have fallen. New Paris was swallowed whole last night- struck by refugees fleeing the nearby Neo London, that house of cards finally fell inward, and anarchy took hold. The lights were turned on, and the music began to play; but the White Flowers have claimed control. It seems certain now. The sense of impending doom settles over the ECU diplomats. It makes them angry and inattentive. It sits in the back of their minds, telling them they don't have long left. It sinks down deep into their bones, so that they pace back and forth on the station, looking for release. Liaison Abadi is one of these. She walks right out of the ECU segment, this morning, and wanders around the Meeting Place. Her head is aching, while she drifts around these halls, full of thoughts of failure. Cramped corridors. A hundred different kinds of engineering, almost none of it true to Old Earth. It's easy to get lost here. And something about it makes your mind roam: she keeps thinking back to what will happen when the ECU falls. It's a national embarrassment. Will the proud Oligarchs have to find refuge? Would Matuvista take them in? All that she's believed and, and all that she's worked for, is crumbling apart. She makes a turn into a familiar hallway. Abadi's feet seem to constantly want to lead her in a very specific direction: towards the Undefeated section. Well, she thinks, maybe that's alright. Maybe she'll see Kelsie. Maybe they can talk over a drink, like they sometimes do. It won't make everything okay, but- What's that sound? Throaty, deep vocalization seeps into this hall from somewhere. The Liaison has heard music like this before; "throat singing." Her teacher showed her some back in the academy; she loved it immediately. It's the opposite of other music: it goes deep, earthy, feeling so solid. It wants to drag you down to the ground instead of lifting you into space. It was never a part of her Cultural Expression- which remains primarily Arabic with American and British influences- but she still has an aching, deep fondness for it. She doesn't even have to think. Abadi follows that sound. She emerges into the light of a neutral section of the Meeting Place. She stops still, not able to process what she's seeing. They'd noticed the arrival of new foreign ships, naturally. But the ECU segment is in such a panic right now, they hardly paid attention to them. A thousand problems needed putting out, half the staff has wanted to go home, there's a delay on the paychecks, and more- so they pushed it to the side, and figured they'd greet the newbies later. Now Abadi was caught unprepared. Unprepared for this, definitely. A parade of primates. Gorillas, chimps and orangutans carrying banners and weapons that- [i]huh[/i]- Abadi just starts to recognize. That one's a USA style gun. And those are definitely muskets. They're singing Mongolian music, and marching in line like a parade... But the weight doesn't fully come crashing down on her until the lead one starts to talk. With orange, hairy arms spread wide, he lectures about history and the legacy of Earth. And then the connection is made, and Abadi starts to laugh. Of course, of course. The apes love Old Earth! Just like the ECU! After all, the universe has already done all it can to mock New Hollywood since the Gateways first reopened. The Undefeated could barely stop themselves from laughing, when they first saw the way New Hollywoodites dressed. Or what about when their head ambassador had to go, hat-in-hand, begging cyborgs to save his life? Or now, when their cities have become a playground for foreign armies? Oh, and it all goes on. Until finally, finally, when all their news screens say the ECU is just on the brink of collapse, they [b]finally [/b]meet people who look to be as fanatic about human history as they are. An ally, with their bare paws making ridiculous [i]flip-flap [/i]sounds on the Meeting Place floors. An equal, hoisting up simian banners that make a parody of Earth history. They hold in them a thousand cultures and peoples, ideas and dress codes, all represented in a single nation. A walking culture clash. The perfect representation of ECU philosophy- but everyone has the face of a monkey. Abadi laughs more, louder and louder, until eventually she feels hot tears of shame streaking down her face. It's all been a joke, the entire time. Her entire life. And this is the punchline. [center][b]~~~~~~~~[/b][/center] [i][right][sub](Addressing: [@TimeMaster]) (Starring: Kayla) [/sub][/right][/i] Kayla wakes up, and she isn't Kayla anymore. Or she is. But so are all these other people, because they have her memories. And she's all them, because she has his- theirs. They're her, and she's him- them- us. One. But Two. Let's back up. Kayla wakes up, and she isn't Kayla anymore. Because her mind and memories were transferred into a cloning machine. The machine did its job perfectly: her memories were copied over to the One, and the One's memories were copied back into her. Tonight, two distinct lifetimes are swimming around in her head. She remembers the streets of New Beijing, and the ancient ones of Old London. She remembers surviving alone on the One's homeworld. She remembers- "Wait," she says aloud, "you guys were feeding me [i]human meat[/i]?" She remembers everything James William Grant was, and now everything he is. She knows the last thoughts of the Williams who died to become her dinner, and the memories of the James who brought it to her. And she definitely remembers how nobody bothered to tell her about this. She gets why they wouldn't, of course. But the vomiting still lasts for a good two minutes. With that out of the way, she's able to pick herself up off the landing bay floor and take in the sight around her. It's chaotic. The One has destroyed every screen and device in this area, but further off, just passing the little bubble of darkness they're standing in, she can see the endless light-show of New Beijing. It's near to midnight, right now, but you would think it was clear daylight. Every light in the city is on full blast. And then there's the sound: music of every variety echoes outwards, distorted by the strange acoustics of metal skyscrapers. "Is... is this what they're doing?" A member of the One tells her that, yes, it is. Nobody sleeps anymore. And they've spotted huge crowds of refugees trying to flee, just to get caught by protector gangs lurking along the major roadways. The whole city is a trap. The old Kayla would have been paralyzed with rage. But not this one: since the memory-transfer, she's different. With three centuries of survival moving around her mind, no obstacle seems too great. She's beaten worse than this. (Or she feels like she has, anyway.) She cracks her knuckles- a habit borrowed from someone James met back in London, three hundred years ago. "Come on, boys. I know what we can do about this." [center][b]~~~~~~~~[/b][/center] [i][right][sub](Addressing: [@SgtEasy]) (Starring: Abadi) [/sub][/right][/i] After her outburst, Abadi has had a chance to cool down. The dog probably helped: when the Khanate released the puppies, one of them ran straight to Abadi. He licked the salty tears off of her face. She's never been an animal person, but everyone likes dogs. It's required. She's in her office now, with one hand idly stroking that Golden Retriever fur. Meanwhile, her eyes are flitting over the message the Khanate just sent, offering medical aide and some rather interesting "mercenary" assistance. The former is impossible: after what happened to Tanaka, the ECU wouldn't allow medical help from any other nation. The mercenaries, though... It's gone well so far. The Colombian "volunteers" were a major success on Zeta, even if they couldn't really penetrate the cyborg cities more than anyone else could. And the Matuvistan men-at-arms have worked wonders in Neo London. So what's the harm in one more? Or a dozen more, or a hundred. New Hollywood is on fire; calling all fire-fighters. Abadi chuckles at her own joke, and feels a little light-headed while she does it. She's been under way too much stress lately. Deep down, she knows this won't work, more than anything else they could do would. But she sends a message of acceptance anyway. Her fingers write it almost automatically, exhausted and stumbling over the keyboard. No proof-reading is done. She falls asleep at her desk. [hider=Message to the Khanate] Greetings to the Khanate from the Earth Cultural Union. We regggret to inform you that medical asssistnatce can not be accepted at this time, do to lugostical problems. We apologise. Mercenaries can and will currently be accepted. Please coordinate witsh ourm Matubistan allies about hotspots of dissent. New Paris has fallen. Also, please advice your former citizens to be aware of psychological disturbances in cities currently held by the rioters: eye and ear protection, against brightness and sound, is recommended. The "White Flower' rioters have no legitmate complaint. It is simply a coup. Rhetoric from them is dangerous and full aof lies. Thankyou. Liaison Abadi. [/hider]