[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Midgar -> Sector 8, Detroit [/center]
[center]Lvl 9 (144/90) -> Lvl 9 (146/90) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 823 words[/center]

That the forces running and protecting Midgar knew of Spirit Fusion was a surprising and somewhat concerning revelation to Geralt. Where had they gained this knowledge from? Was it one of the Consuls, using their knowledge to buy influence? That would make sense, though to what end? They were clearly working for Galeem. Was their lord not granting them enough power? Were they to gain it themselves as some sort of test? Or did Galeem even care, instead selecting a few powerful beings to guard its guardians, then just...letting the world go as it did? The possibilities, and the fact that Geralt had simply no idea of what Galeem wanted or how it did what it did, were still growing. How frustrating. 

It seemed, however, that some of their allies knew people within these organizations. Raz knew and worked with people from the Pysch-OSF, while Raiden had a very adversarial past with Desporhado. Enough to outright demand a fight with them, in fact. Geralt's fists clenched, but Goldlewis managed to help remind him that not only were they on the same side, but they didn't have the opportunity to just go in and start a fight, given that it would make everybody around them instantly an enemy. That was a great way to get killed. 

Their newfound allies took some time to address their concerns, and described the way the city was laid out, and Geralt had to avoid trying to wrap his mind around the sheer breadth of the city, because he simply couldn't. Eight sectors, each divided into top and bottom, each with their own societal ecosystem. He'd take what info he could and use it, though. Sector 3, on top, was where Raz's friends were. Sector 8, down below, was where Desporhado's Bunker was located. And Sector 4's top section was where Neuron was headquartered. 

Soon enough, the group were getting their metaphorical handcuffs put on. Devices that told everybody who they were, held their identities inside them. That were required just to get around. It reminded him too much of the Nilfgaardians. Travel papers. Transit passes. Permission from the people in charge just to go where you wanted to go. He glared at the offending bracelet as they were on board the train, trying not to focus on just how badly it annoyed him. To be shackled. 

Part of him was even surprised he cared this much. The solution had practically been handed to him. No necrophages to slay, nobody to bribe to get it, it was just...made by an ally. He wasn't forced to pay or work for it. But the physical reminder, the feel of it on his arm. He didn't like it. 

Eventually, he was pulled from his thoughts by the group's arrival in Detroit. Apparently, it was a den of scum and thieves, who wouldn't let you have shit. They'd even steal directly from your GridLink if you had money connected to it, whatever the hell that meant. Geralt wasn't sure he was the best fit for this place, but that would be the case wherever they went, whichever group they investigated or tried to join. This city was full of advanced technology, far beyond what he could easily understand. An elevator without visible pulleys? Fine, he could accept that. Odd, somewhat fanciful, but they just got better at hiding the pulleys, he supposed. This? No, it made no sense. 

Still, he steeled himself as they were on their way. Giovanna was quick to show them the Qaurantine Zone, and Geralt's hackles raised quickly. A massive chimera outbreak left the citizens infected, and quickly abandoned. He understood the need for Quarantine, especially against something as virulent as the Redshift could apparently be, but...how terrible. "Poor folk. Didn't do anything to deserve it, just...existed in the wrong spot. Left to fend for themselves." He was feeling melancholic for a moment. He couldn't see them, but he knew it must have been a great number of people suffering in there. All the more reason to stop the Ever Crisis, find the Guardians, and destroy Galeem, wasn't it? So much to do.

When it came time to decide which tree they should bark up first, Geralt found himself similarly indecisive. Raiden's intent to hunt down Desporhado seemed to be tempered for now, and while he somewhat agreed with Benedict, Geralt couldn't help but be skeptical of just how willing he was to really help them. It wasn't necessarily anything against the man, but he'd been essentially forced out of his government job by rebels, then press-ganged to join them. Hard feelings would be reasonable. Still, the logic was sound. "For now, might be best to keep a low profile, like he says. Not keen on dealing with those G-Men again so soon, or getting Desporhado's attention before we're ready. Any chance of tracking down any Hermits here, or is that a lost cause?" The Witcher asked of Giovanna.