<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

“Practically” implies exceptions.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Maybe not on purpose.

*Holds my palm over my heart*
The cruelty of a double backhanded compliment!

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

*Holds my palm over my heart*
The cruelty of a double backhanded compliment!

Consider it an acknowledgment of both quirk and intention.
*Looks back at you over my shoulder as I walk*
Endearing character traits, for what it’s worth.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Consider it an acknowledgment of both quirk and intention.
*Looks back at you over my shoulder as I walk*
Endearing character traits, for what it’s worth.

It could save your life one day!
*Looks down the hall*

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

It could save your life one day!
*Looks down the hall*

*The steep decline swiftly levels out and comes to an end with a high, arching gateway that opens up into a massive silo, a narrow balcony surrounds the massive open space as a walkway around its perimeter, and more such walkways can be seen at different levels below us*

<Snipped quote by Legend Begins>

Artorias: * my body bends unatturally, grinding my sword against yours until I swing it down behind me, using the momentum to swing it upward towards your chin. The amarnthine my body and the balde are composed of are uniquely whole. Preventing it from being separated, but the maranthine particles in the air are repelled from one another*

<Snipped quote by souleaterfan320>

Experiment two.
*The blade slams down to vault me high above you, and a complex mechanical blaster emerges from my back, firing a large spell at your body and sword respectively, causing them to repel one another*

*Manifests a glowing strand of energy resembling rope and, in a flash, warps next to you with the rope tensely constricted around your blade with both of my hands, restricting its movement*

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

*The steep decline swiftly levels out and comes to an end with a high, arching gateway that opens up into a massive silo, a narrow balcony surrounds the massive open space as a walkway around its perimeter, and more such walkways can be seen at different levels below us*

Woah! What do you think this is for?

<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

“Practically” implies exceptions.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Maybe not on purpose.

There are, but I won’t tell.
*grins*

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

Woah! What do you think this is for?

You guys don’t launch missiles on a regular basis, do you?

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

There are, but I won’t tell.
*grins*

That’s good info even on its own, so I’ll take it.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

You guys don’t launch missiles on a regular basis, do you?

<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

That’s good info even on its own, so I’ll take it.

Uhhhhhh I don't. Do you?

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

Uhhhhhh I don't. Do you?

Not from here. Silos like this, of this size, are usually for ballistics.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Not from here. Silos like this, of this size, are usually for ballistics.

What kinds of bombs would they even use in a place like this??

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

What kinds of bombs would they even use in a place like this??

I do say “usually”. But if you guys have never launched a missile or anything from here, then it might be something else.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

I do say “usually”. But if you guys have never launched a missile or anything from here, then it might be something else.

*After a moment of quiet, pulls out a skateboard and starts shredding*
Want one?

Thespia Incorporated Main Office - Seattle, WA - 2019

*I decide to start slow. A daughter, neglected and bitter, and a mother who’s only now realizing how much she’s missed while she spent days and nights working, and now she’s in too deep. Easy targets, both of them.*

*Valerie d’Acciaio’s personal assistant is dead. Not recruited, just dead. Car accident this morning; the hospital has yet to call anyone. Hexes like that are easy to make. That means, of course, that the man entering the building with his face on is not him. It’s a ruse they’ll see through quickly, but only if I stay long enough for them to notice. I swipe a blood-spattered ID—picked straight from the man’s twitching body—at the door, give a charming smile to the woman at the desk, and take the elevator to the penthouse office.*

VALERIE D’ACCIAIO: “Fabio, good fucking Lord! I told you to be here two hours ago, dipshit. What took you so long?”

- “Sorry, traffic was... less than optimal.”

VALERIE: “Bet it fuckin’ was. Go get me a Goddamned coffee, at the least.”

*So I serve her her coffee, and she talks. She says Helena’s been acting up, that she’s been sneaking out and coming back drunk, or high, and that such behavior is below her daughter, unbecoming of a senior in high school, too. I listen and quietly agree, saying that bringing her to work today was a good thing, that she’ll learn the importance of what’s being done at this company.*

*After some thirty minutes, Val’s phone rings and she picks up.*

VALERIE: “Valerie d’Acciaio speaking.”

*Her eyes widen and she looks up.*

VALERIE: “No, that’s not true. He’s right here. You got the wrong guy.”

VALERIE: “You’re positive? Jesus Christ. I’ll call you back.”

*She sets her phone down and glares at me.*

VALERIE: “I just got a call from the hospital, and they just found you dead. I think you should explain—”

*And then I’ve flown over the desk, tackled her to the ground and wrapped my hands around her throat. In an instant, her hardened, tomboyish demeanor is replaced with simple panic as she thrashes and screams, fingernails failing to leave a mark as she scratches desperately at my arms.*

VALERIE: “Please, I—have—a—daughter...”

- “Yes, you do.”

*I squeeze. There’s a crunch of bone, and Valerie falls silent, eyes empty, hair spread out from her head, body limp and lifeless. I stand, wringing out my hands, and brush off my suit.*

HELENA D’ACCIAIO: “Mom?”

*I turn, and there she is, standing in the doorway, textbooks in her hand, face betraying abject horror. The books slip from her trembling hands and clatter on the floor. Helena d’Acciaio. She looks so much like her mother.*

HELENA: “YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

*She screams, half-crying, and rushes forward, brandishing a pocketknife over her head like a serial killer in a slasher movie, wild and inexpert. It’s no issue for me to catch the blade and, pushing back, drive it into her heart. She falls silent, looking up at me helplessly as a dark stain spreads down her shirt, eyes prickling with tears of pain and grief and fear.*

- “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

*I let go, and she falls, her body falling apart as she does. It starts at the fingers and works its way up, as she decomposes, her body becoming smoke and ash. She doesn’t even get the chance to hit the floor. Looking down, he finds Valerie’s body, and, with a nudge, she melts away too. I turn, look into the lamps overhead, and step sideways, and I am gone.*

I Marine Expeditionary Force - Fallujah, Iraq - 2004

*Not much in this world is worse on a Fed than a conscience. Naomi Lovelace is a Contra, a tourist, a woman in black, in short, an agent of the CIA, and she’s caught one. Well, more accurately, she’s failed to repress it as they wish her to. Suddenly, all those drone strikes, all those black-ops missions, all those bodies she’s laid out in the name of peace, all those elections she’s rigged in the name of freedom, they’ve stirred something in her, a guilt stronger than most people will ever feel, and she’s feeling it now as she makes her way to the mayor’s for a meeting. Then again, most people have never performed evils like Naomi Lovelace has.*

*Neither have they felt what her driver’s felt. James Randall “Tempo” Somerton is his name, Captain, USMC. He doesn’t know it, doesn’t understand enough about his own feelings to, but he’s lonely, and afraid. From the day he found his father’s body with the gun still stuck at his temple to today, he’s been a man at war. The Marines were a manifestation of that, and so he, too, is useful.*

*A three-car convoy trundles down the roads into downtown Fallujah, Humvees still carrying bullet marks from the invasion. The Jarheads are on alert, hands on their machine guns, eyes sweeping the buildings around them. They were fighting for their lives here barely a month ago, so I can understand that much.*

*The fight isn’t over, though, not for the men I’ve found. They’re angry that American infidels are touching the sacred soil of Iraq, angry enough that it only took a few words from the charming stranger, and a couple of $20 Type 56s, to whip them into a frenzy. I told them that an American government official was moving through, that I had history with her. My price for my help was that she and her escort be brought to me alive, a price they were happy to pay.*

*The first hint the Americans get of the deal takes the form of a VBIED T-boning the lead Humvee before exploding, sending the flaming wrecks of both spinning off into now-burning storefronts. Civilians scatter as the gunfire starts. It’s a massacre; I sent these men to their deaths. The clattering, chunking reports of the Browning M2s drown out their screams; the last car goes up in smoke when someone fires an RPG-7 at it, but the middle car keeps firing and the rocketeer falls, body racking and spasming as .50-BMG rounds rake through his body. The shots continue for a few seconds more, but no longer; the men are either dead or running.*

*That’s when a 7.62 round lands square between the gunner’s eyes. He starts and slumps back, and I watch from a mosque tower through the scope of my still-smoking rifle as the driver tries to drive on. It’s no use; the tires are all shot. I watch as the driver racks his rifle, opening the door and sheltering the agent as she gets out. Then, I will myself forward, the space tunneling around me until I am where I need to be.*

*The two have only just ducked into an alleyway when they see me kneeling there, rifle leveled. The Marine raises his gun. The agent screams. Neither takes cover in time.*

*Hot shell casings scatter on the pavement as I lower my weapon and approach. The Marine looks almost at peace—he stares up at nothing, almost accepting of what’s happened. The agent, however... she looks agonized, afraid, tortured, even in death, and unable to find peace.*

*Both of them are erased when I touch them. For one, resurrection’s a mercy, for the other, a torture. Even as I scan through their thoughts and memories, I’m not sure which is which.*

14th District, City of Union - East American Republic, Sol Cooperative - 2208

*The Central Response Service. Police, fire, paramedics, all in one federalized, unaccountable unit. There was a riot yesterday, dissidents gathered at the corner of 214th and Everell. A Catholic priest had been leading unsanctioned services from the basement of his home in the suburbs; the cops had busted it, given him a hearty beating, too, and they didn’t like that. That wasn’t Corporal Xiu Wei’s problem; I’d seen her at meetings for the Young Anti-Superstitionists’ League as a child. But she was there in that riot; she was still slipping into riot gear when the first shots rang out. She watched in horror as the first ranks of rioters fell in a blur of screams and smoke and blood. Fourteen people died that day; nobody knows who gave the order to fire, and no one’s going to try to find out. I know this city, and I know the Sol Cooperative. Justice is conditional here.*

*The Republic Mall is the shining jewel of South Union, and that’s where I go next. Everything here is artificial; I go in and find stores selling luxuries and services that most people will never be able to dream of affording. There’s domestic ‘droids on sale, designer clothing, autocars. I even see an advert for a pleasure cruise to all 12 of the Cooperative’s Federated Colonies across the Solar System. I laugh a little at the idea that this timeline’s world government calls itself socialist.*

*It’s Xiu’s beat, or part of it, anyway. They won’t let me play in the Mall, so, after a few minutes of trying to find her, I slip out in favor of an alleyway beside it. I begin to sing.*

- “O, love, O, love, that will not let me go...”

*My song echoes out, vibrating through the threads of reality and echoing towards her. When it finds Xiu, it wraps around her and calls her forth, bringing her towards me as surely as if I’d tied a rope around her neck. She finds her way to me quickly enough, movements limp and uninspired, still wearing the face-shielding visor and carapace armor of her job. Still singing, I reach for her with one hand and pop up her visor, revealing a young woman, barely in her twenties, who is conflicted and afraid and deeply alone. My other hand draws Helena d’Acciaio’s pocketknife.*

- “I trace the rainbow through the rain and feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be.”

*And then I jab the knife upward, under her jaw, through her skull and into her brain. She dies instantly. I watch the life leave her eyes, then toss her disintegrating body away and drop the bloody knife in the lap of a sleeping homeless man. With a thought, I disappear.*

Sunnyvale Apts. Unit 12 - Portland, OR - 2012

*This one’s worse than most. Officer Elle MacLeod, Portland Police Bureau. A year ago, she was involved in a shootout with some gangers; she took a bullet in the gut for her trouble. I watched it happen. The doctor wrote her a prescription for codeine and took a check from Big Pharma for it; a couple doses of it was all it took. She came back as often as she could for more; when the doctor refused her, she turned to back channels for more of the beautiful white pills that made the pain of reality go away. She sold everything to pay for more; she sold her most prized possessions, and when she had no more, she turned dirty, selling her integrity. When even that failed to secure her next hit, she sold the dignity of her own body.*

*She isn’t dead. But she most certainly isn’t alive anymore, either. I feel that this is a sort of mercy.*

*Now, I watch her as she lays there. She’s in bed on a Saturday night; she’s lost weight, her cheeks hollow, her blonde hair growing brittle and thin, her eyes sunken and bloodshot. She sighs and turns over, groping blindly at her bedside table until she finds her bottle of pills. I watch her tip three pills into her hand and swallow.*

*It hits harder than normal this time; I can see her blink and smile a little at the feeling. Her limbs are heavy; she can’t move, can’t think of moving. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically as she stares hypnotized at the ceiling, and for a few seconds, she can’t remember her troubles, or her worries. She can only breathe, and relax, and feel good.*

*Except she can’t breathe.*

*She doesn’t notice it at first, but it’s inevitable. Lungs twitching, she tries to suck in another breath, but she pulls saliva down her throat and chokes; as she coughs weakly, it aerates until it foams out of her mouth. She spasms and whimpers, trying to scream, trying to call someone, trying with all her strength to survive, but she has so little strength left. She fights valiantly, and I admire that, but she’s just not strong enough.*

*It’s a long, long time before her final breath burbles out from the foam. Her dull eyes stare sightlessly at the dirty ceiling. I drop the illusion, appearing at the foot of her bed. Proceeding to the bedside table, I pick up the little pill bottle and produce a second one from my pocket, nearly identical save for the slightly different color of the pills. I shake the one from my pocket.*

- “Codeine.”

*I shake the other one.*

- “Fentanyl. Know the difference.”

*I touch her cooling face and watch as she melts into smoke. Then, I vanish once more.*

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

You guys don’t launch missiles on a regular basis, do you?

<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

That’s good info even on its own, so I’ll take it.

I’m curious if you ever find out.

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

What kinds of bombs would they even use in a place like this??

Big ones?

<Snipped quote by Armed Forces>

I’m curious if you ever find out.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Big ones?

*Pulls a party popper from my pocket*
You think it's bigger than this one?

<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

*Pulls a party popper from my pocket*
You think it's bigger than this one?

Mmmmaybe? I feel like this is a noisy cricket situation.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

Mmmmaybe? I feel like this is a noisy cricket situation.

Are you calling my jokes bad!? I'll blow this whole place to sky heavens!

<Snipped quote by Galvanize>

Are you calling my jokes bad!? I'll blow this whole place to sky heavens!

I’m not, I’m just referencing something I saw. There was a movie where one of the main peeps was given a tiny gun that was revealed to be extremely powerful and explosive despite its tiny size.

<Snipped quote by Webmaster>

I’m not, I’m just referencing something I saw. There was a movie where one of the main peeps was given a tiny gun that was revealed to be extremely powerful and explosive despite its tiny size.

*Points it closer to you*
Yeah, exactly! So you better watch it when booing me off the stage!