Atrophy

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

Ah beans, wrong spot

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖 - Cyberpunk Political Intrigue Roleplay

Collab w/ @SandyGunfox

Clarity cut through the self-induced haze in Lott’s head like a lighthouse beacon after dark the moment she shut her mouth. An “ex”-APEX employee insisting an ex-APEX lobbyist weren’t in cohorts with APEX wouldn’t play. She sensed Gatch growing tense beside her as she realized she had just overstepped her position. Gatch would never give Lott the signal because there never had been a signal; he would never seek her for a bailout. She had just undercut him. She had made him look weak. The candidates were kids in a rock fight, and Lott had just rushed out like a concerned mother to protect her baby boy because he’d been beaned across the forehead. He’d be the constant target of playground bullying now.

Lott glanced over at the Mayor; was thinking of him in terms of being a school boy a side effect of the chemicals fighting it out in her system? He certainly dressed like one. It was strange that nobody said anything. Obviously, it wasn’t strange that nobody said anything to her, why would they bother speaking with her when they could tell that she was a nobody? What Lott thought strange was that the big players were probing rumors when they could’ve buried Gatch on his fashion alone. Perhaps she could speak on it with him later. As his mother, she was responsible for—Lott blinked at the intrusive thought. She needed to go. Clearly too loopy to stay in the loop. Why hadn’t anybody said anything? Had she even said anything?

“Ms. Ramana, are you even listening?”

Lott turned her head. She couldn’t tell if it had been her that was moved or everything else. The candidates were no longer in their little spitting circle, and the cronies had all posted themselves up at different angles. Lott herself was now standing by a table of pamphlets advertising wonderful tourist destinations not in the Reclaim Zone. She was faced with Octavia Alvas, one of Gatch’s campaign coordinators. Octavia was a squat woman who seemed to be perpetually happy towards everyone in the world with the exception of one Lott Ramana. It was probably because Octavia could tell a fraud when she saw one or, at least, that’s what Lott thought. Lott nodded. She hadn’t been. She didn’t even know how she got over here which, admittedly, should have concerned her more than it did. The anxiety meds must’ve beaten out the uppers in the end.

“Then I’ll leave you two to it.”

Two? Lott watched as Octavia left to go join Gatch by his side. She had been hoodwinked, it seemed. Somehow that woman had pulled Lott out from underneath the shadow of the major players only to place her on the sidelines with the nobodies. Lott told herself that it was fine, even as the elevated number on her watch’s heart monitor told her that she felt otherwise. She adjusted her watch, and another dose of Dr. Howland’s miraculous tonic began to filter itself into her bloodstream. The number would go down soon enough. Lott rolled her neck, and as it popped she locked eyes with a young woman in a dark-teal dress. Two. Lott was one, so this girl was two, excluding the moment Lott’s vision swam and the girl split to become three and four before solidifying back into one so she could once again be two. Okay, cool.

Lott had no clue what was going on, which meant she was just about as qualified to handle this as she was for anything on the campaign trail.

“Lott Ramana, Mayor Gatch’s publicist. A pleasure,” she said and offered her hand. Hopefully they hadn’t already done this part; it was always tricky to hold a conversation and scan back through her implant’s recording at the same time. She did it anyway. “So, why are you here?”

It was one of those interview questions that aimed to draw forth answers of lofty visions, only Lott meant it in total earnesty. She did not know why the younger woman was here. With one dead eye she stared at the newcomer while the other secretly played out her past from the last thing she remembered.

”Ah - I’m Theresa.” Theresa shook the woman’s hand, smiling and stalling for time as her mind raced. How exactly am I supposed to go about this? ‘I’m here because my father decided I needed a civics lesson’? ”I’m studying to join the Space Force, and I thought this summer would be a good experience of the political process.” Quick, Theresa, what do people my age who come here willingly look for?

Right. Jobs are important, right? ”I’m looking for a, um, summer internship.” She nodded her head affirmatively, with confidence she didn’t really feel. ”For the experience.” Being paid would be nice, too…

Lott should’ve been confused as to why she was even speaking with a potential intern. However, the rewound recap had just played back Samsara’s hand signs. The action only Samsara Washington could make look cool (and she believed it to be really, really cool—ultra cool, maximum chill, absolute freaking zero on the Kelvin scale) made Lott grin at Theresa. She looked more like a wolf hungry to see fresh intern meat than the happy clam she currently was to even be recognized by her idol.

”You’re welcome,” said Lott, both in the past to Samsara and accidentally in the present to Theresa. Lott momentarily paused the playback and continued speaking as if that hadn’t been the end of her thought process. “To ask me anything that crosses your mind. I was in your shoes, once. Sometimes I still feel like I’m an intern.” Not her best recovery but it’d suffice. She resumed playback. Lott had to know if Samsara had said more to her. She knitted her brow as the past lens shifted to Petrukov.

”But the experience? Normally someone joins the Space Force to bolster their future political career, not the other way around...or is this a new kind of requirement?” asked Lott. She was more curious than anything. She was curious, too, to see how Petrukov would react to knowing that the only reason she was even able to run for office was because APEX goons had meddled in her affairs, but past Lott had let the remark slide unchecked. Lott could be an influencer, too. She could influence this young woman right here to not waste her future on becoming an intern and instead spend the best years of her life being zooted on Limbo Dust. Why bother with all of the training to become a spaceman when you could take a little something to feel like you were in space, man?

Theresa shook her head, unconsciously tugging at the fringe of her dress under Lott’s lupine gaze. This woman had a fierce look in her expression, and eyes that seemed preoccupied thinking of a thousand other things at once. To stop to offer advice to what was undoubtedly just another twenty-something was probably a unique opportunity for her. She was determined not to waste it! ”I’ve just always wanted to be an astronaut,” Theresa said, straightening her posture. ”And I’ve always wanted to serve my country, too. I know that sounds a little, I dunno, old-fashioned, but…” Theresa trailed off.

This woman clearly had other more important things on her mind, from the occasionally-distant look in her eyes - Theresa wasn’t going to cinch any kind of job yammering on about herself! She’d invited her to ask a question - asking something intelligent was the best way to stand out and get back on track. Theresa’s thoughts raced. ”But, anyway, um, I could just seek an internship with some corporation or a summer job of some kind - but this is, you know, democracy, it’s...important? After finals I really won’t have too many requirements for school all summer, so I’ll be certainly very flexible, I’m a hard worker and I have a good work ethic…”

This wasn’t good - Theresa was rambling. Here this woman was probably one of the most important people in the Twin Cities government, in charge of Mayor Gatch’s public image and statements - and Theresa couldn’t spit a sentence out without rambling nervously. Why did this woman make her so nervous? She didn’t so much as flinch when an ROTC instructor bellowed orders two hours into PT. She had walked into an advanced astrophysics final on no sleep after cramming all night and still held confidence. Maybe it was the way she kept looking away - as though her work was much too important to spare more than partial attention for yet another twenty-something assisting a political campaign office. She decided to try a little boldness - that had to be better than yammering on, right? So she stopped, and took a breath. ”So if you’re looking for an assistant for your office, ma’am, well, here I am!”

Lott was in the past. Her body bristled, seemingly in reaction to Theresa’s nervous prattling, as her past self watched as Johnny Lawyer refused to even call her by the correct name, let alone give her the respect she deserved for helping his cause out previously. Faren slipped in front of her view before she even had a chance to retort. ”Of course, Mr. Faren, I will see to it that we find a way for your people to touch base with those of Apex Industries at a later time,” she heard herself say noncommittally before she excused herself. She followed behind Gatch like an obedient puppy, using the departure of her boss from the group to avoid being caught in what would certainly be a buzz-killing conversation with the Neo-Luddite poster boy. The past connected with the present as Octavia sidled up next to Lott after Gatch gave her his orders, and Lott killed the recording just as Theresa moved in for the kill.

“I see…” muttered Lott. She relaxed her posture ever so slightly as the residual feelings from the past dissipated, and turned her full attention to Theresa. Well, as much attention as Lott was capable of giving anyone at the current moment. “Unfortunately, given the current climate I do not believe that the Mayor would be interested in acquiring any new assets at the moment, despite your impressive background.”

Lott didn’t intend to make that statement sound cruel or dismissive, but it certainly came out as such. APEX, thus in a way the Mayor, had entrusted Lott to vet the hopeful candidate’s team of any possible turncoats—adding yet another unknown factor to their already messy situation would not be in line with the company’s plan. However, Lott knew that the company would also dislike the negative attention they would receive if word got out that they had been requested to give private information to a bunch of technophobes. She could just ignore Faren’s request for that contact information. That would make the bosses happy, but what kind of look would that give her in the eyes of the Neo-Luddites? Lott knew she shouldn’t care what they thought of her, but she did. She couldn’t disappoint them by going back on her word. However, if there was another person to blame for the mixup…

“However, it’d be a waste to let someone like you go. I can find room for you as an intern on my PR team,” said Lott. The PR team, with the exception of a few speech writers and a couple of social media specialists, was almost entirely her. “It might not be the exact experience you’re looking for, but it’d get your foot in the door. And, depending on how well you perform, I can see to it that we move you to a more desirable branch of the campaign team post-debate.”

Theresa’s shoulders sank not two syllables into unfortunately…, and she opened her mouth to thank Lott for her time. Stupid. She’d blown it with simple nerves. This was the PR staff of a political campaign. They were surely a staff of highly-qualified professionals. They couldn’t hire someone who could barely stumble through an interview! What was wrong with her? She’d done this before, and with more imposing people than Ms. Ramana. Maybe she was nervous because of her father’s expectations, or...

She stopped, though, and brightened as Lott continued. An internship would be great, wouldn’t it? It’d get her dad off her back, might lead to a decent summer job...and the PR team of a mayoral candidate? Who knows? That could even be fun! She could even end up on TV. She nodded her head firmly, and tried to give a polite, professional smile. ”Gladly, Ms. Ramana!”

“Then welcome to the team, Ms. Theresa,” said Lott. She opened her tablet and clacked at it furiously, then extended it toward the younger woman. ”Please enter in your relevant information and I’ll have someone send you the necessary legal mumbo jumbo to begin the onboarding process. I do hope you enjoy paperwork. This conversation has been recorded, naturally, and will serve as a temporary contract until we can conduct a proper screening and background check. You will be considered to be on a probationary status until then, and following the period you will receive a living stipend. It's a normal procedure, so don’t worry yourself with the details. Just consider this a test run, of sorts.”

Lott felt lightheaded. For a moment, she lost focus and stared out across the room. When her concentration returned she was worried she had experienced another time slip, but the newly hired intern was still in front of her. Lott continued, unsure of how long it had been since she had closed her mouth.

“Now, Mr. Faren has expressed interest in speaking with a representative of APEX Industries.” Lott pulled out a blank, eggshell business card and withdrew her tablet. After a moment of searching she tapped the card against her device and black ink bled out onto the card, filling it with information for some publicly available and ultimately useless APEX hotline. Technically, it would reach an APEX representative, but just one who could answer questions about their products and not expunge any information that could be considered crucial. She handed the card to Theresa. “See to it that one of his followers receives this.”

Theresa took the card delicately, as though it were an item of some worth. ”Yes, ma’am!” She turned away, belatedly worrying that she had no idea who Mr. Faren was. But if he was named without introduction, it probably wouldn’t look good to have to ask…

That had happened fast. There was no formal process, or interview, or anything, just, here, here’s a job to do? Well, best get to it, then...

Lott watched as the teal dress disappeared into the swathe of political slime and felt a pang of regret, because Lott knew she'd just missed a fantastic opportunity to have someone fetch her a drink. With a sigh, she scanned the room. The boss was gone and so was his whip. Well, if there was nobody around to demand her to perform anymore duties that she was grossly unprepared for, then perhaps it would be fine if she slipped away to grab a drink. One vodka tonic wouldn't hurt. Except she wasn't supposed to drink on her meds, so if she was going to break the doctor's orders then she might as well make it three.

Vivid Recollections Season 2: Into The False Light [COMPLETE]

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Campsite

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Penny gave a nod of appreciation to the others as they came to an almost unanimous agreement. Even those that did not want to go along with the Ascension plan still seemed to acquiesce to the idea. It was a far cry from how they used to behave. Penny could still remember their first meeting as a group of survivors from the summer camp slaughter, how heated everything got, how they were practically at each other’s throats. How, in all honesty, the hostility largely stemmed from her. Before, she would’ve said “Fuck all of y’all”, flipped the room the bird, and stormed out to take on the Glutton by herself. Now, she couldn’t imagine getting through this without their support.

Still, there was a moment of apprehension once the Hound finished speaking. She no longer cared if the others knew her deepest, darkest secrets, and she would happily take on the burden of learning theirs, but the idea of losing her own sense of identity seized her. Penny didn’t want to forget the person she was, and she certainly didn’t want to stop being the person she became. However, if that was what was necessary to stop the Glutton, then she’d take the risk.

Rita stared at the ground. Unlike Penny, she did not want anyone to know her memories, her thoughts, or her feelings, although there was a certain voyeuristic pleasure in the idea of knowing everything about everyone else. Still, the Hound’s suggestion that they dispose of anyone who breaks filled her up with dread. She gave a worried look around at the group, trying to catch if any one of them had taken a glimpse at her. Certainly, they all viewed her as a weak link, and now that they knew her Abstraction she’d never find out that truth. She chewed on her lip and returned her gaze to the ground, finding comfort in the cracks in the wood.

Penny laughed at Sharon’s suggestion to blow up the mountain. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but a surprised one, “If I could swap my Abstraction to one that’d allow me that much destruction in the first place, you better fucking believe I would’ve accidentally blown myself up ages ago.”

The Hound mentioned someone called The Father. As far as Penny could recollect, it was the first time a being like that had been mentioned. “Let me guess,” she said dryly, “The Father went out for cosmic cigarettes some millenia ago and hasn’t come back yet, has he? I suppose that explains why we only deal with The Child. Fine. We won’t blow up the mountain.”

“Are any of you capable of disposing one of us?” said Rita, finally breaking her silence.

“It won’t be necessary,” said Penny, worried that it wasn’t true.

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

Maysah felt her chest tighten and her throat dry out as the Tower emerged from the ruins carrying the limp frame of Addison in his arms. Arbiter didn’t need to tell her to stop. The plasma that rippled through her body diffused as a scowl set itself on her stony face. Addison had practically been a stranger, but she had thrown both her career and life into jeopardy to gather Hex’s old compatriots—and now she was dead. It was just like how Maysah said it would be, and knowing that kept her numb but stable. She found a sturdy enough looking piece of rubble next to Addison and took a seat. She had used a lot of energy; she needed to rest.

Maysah watched as Arbiter took command, her eyes narrowing as he searched her corpse until he withdrew a notebook and tucked it away. She had known of almost everyone else Addison had gotten in contact with except Arbiter. The man was a mystery; she couldn’t even remember if he ever mentioned his powers to them. She continued to eye him as his car emerged from camo and he produced a body bag from the trunk. Maysah chewed on her lip. Who had a spare body bag lying around? He was talking a lot, too, way more than usual, and he was making a lot of conjecture. Perhaps he was just shook and this was how he handled it. Perhaps it was something else.

“Arbiter, take a breath. You look like you’re about to pass out,” said Maysah as she stood from the piece of rubble. She winced, then frowned. It was definitely not as comfortable as it had looked. “I’m not going to give up on avenging Harrison just because some prick dropped a warhead on me, but if I’m going to Denver then you’re driving.”

She began to walk to Arbiter’s car and turned back to the group, waiting impatiently with her arms folded. Denver was a few hours away by car. It’d be plenty of time for her to try and crack the Arbiter mystery.

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

Maysah let the newcomer’s question go unanswered. It wasn’t because she didn’t hear her as she tore up debris while the occasional blast of plasma sent an echoing zap noise throughout the canyon. Instead, it was because Maysah didn’t know how much information she should give away. The other woman knew about Addison’s existence, but Maysah had been under the impression that Addison had only reached out to the warehouse gang. Maybe the woman was a late arrival, maybe she was something else, but at the very least she was helping. That alone meant something.

“Hey Stardust,” came a familiar voice, albeit slightly mechanized, “They’re about forty feet to your left, I think.”

Maysah stopped working and looked up. It was Arbiter, the poor bastard whose throat she’d jumped down on their first encounter. A look of relief washed over her face that quickly disappeared as Maysah further assessed the situation. His fancy, high-tech gadgets must’ve saved his life, but he was alone. Shouldn’t Spellbound have been with him, skulking unnervingly around in her creepy getup? She sucked in her lower lip and moved towards the spot Arbiter had pointed out. Spellbound was okay. Avant-Garde was okay. The English duo and the American agent were okay. They just needed to work together and dig them all up.

She stopped a few feet from where Arbiter had indicated. Maysah chided herself. Where was this unbridled optimism coming from? Odds were they were all probably dead and she should expect that to be the case. She wasn’t digging them up to save them. She was digging them up to confirm a hypothesis. It hurt less that way. If she was proven wrong then great, and if she was right then her smug satisfaction could armor her from the blow.

Maysah had stood around long enough to overhear Arbiter call out the stranger. Normally she wouldn’t mind someone taking a move from her playbook, but if she was incorrect and the others were okay then there wasn’t time for this kind of inquisition.

“If she had something to do with the missile that means she’s stupid enough to put herself within the blast radius,” shouted Maysah as she began her work of clearing away at debris once again. “Now get over here and help me!” she shouted as she blasted a slab of concrete with a beam of plasma, the loud zap punctuating her order.

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

Henri’s favorite way to tease Maysah was to give her dramatic readings of posts from fanboys on cape forums gushing or bagging on Stardust. He’d affect a comic book nerd voice for the ones that ranked her power level or argued about who would win in a fight, and he’d switch to a creepy mouth breathing whenever the comments turned to her tights. Maysah absolutely hated whenever she heard about herself, especially the latter parts, but Henri’s mocking tone was a guaranteed way to draw an embarrassed smile out of her after a rough week of vigilantism. One day she caught him writing a post on one of those forums—her very own husband was a closeted super-fan. There was no sweeter revenge than the merciless teasing Maysah was able to level against Henri, at any moment making her husband blush by affecting the same voice her husband had used to pester her.

Eventually, it became one of their biggest inside jokes. Henri and Maysah would go back and forth with hypothetical Stardust fanboy utterings to see which one would become uncomfortable first. They’d be sitting there, one of them watching TV while the other read a book, when someone would eventually utter something either incredibly stupid, totally foul, or both, and then it’d be a competition to see who could outdo the other. Maysah specifically remembered one time where Henri suggested that Stardust could outrun a missile, to which she replied that she’d like to give Stardust her missile. That in turn sparked a prolonged period where two fully grown adults in their thirties with master degrees proceeded to make exploding dick jokes like preteen boys for their own amusement. In the end she didn’t remember who cracked first, but she did remember Henri telling her later that night to maybe just avoid testing any of her powers against massive explosive devices. She reassured him that she’d already survived one such explosion, but if it made him sleep better then she’d promise to stay away from missiles.

She never thought that breaking and entering into a former colleague’s secret underground base would end up breaking her promise.

“Oh, I dunno Miss Stardust. You ever saw a security camera that has a question mark on it?”

Maysah grumbled as Hex’s sidekick gave her a sarcastic little bite. This room was turning out to be a dead end, and she was about to give up and give the others a call when Lazlo hit the keyboard one more time and the ground shook. Maysah only had time to shoot him an alarmed look as he protested before something crashed into the roof. She whipped her head to peer out the tiny window, but then the roof started to crumble. She was fast and her shield was up, she could easily make it off the roof before everything fell apart but that’d mean leaving Lazlo behind. She’d hurt him if she grabbed him and dragged him out, but it was better than leaving him to get buried alive. She turned to grab him, and then the bomb exploded.

As Lazlo dropped down, Maysah was hurled up like a purple distress flare arching out of a tornado of fire. Her shield had absorbed the blast proving that if she couldn’t outrun a missile, at the very least she could survive one, although she hadn’t survived quite yet. She watched the earth flatten and move away from her as she was carried up by the momentum of the blast, and then closed her eyes and braced herself as gravity began to carry her forward. Still, as she hurtled to the ground she felt the plasma surge through her body, strengthening the shield surrounding her. She would make it, that she was sure of, but a deeper fear gripped her—would she be the only made it? Maysah was tired of always being the survivor. It’d be easier if—

Her body smashed into the ground like a meteor. Maysah took a moment to collect herself and then stood up, no worse for wear. She climbed to the edge of the small crater and witnessed the destruction around her. It was all just rubble and fire now, even the canyon walls had been mangled by the blast. She felt exhausted. She discharged her shield, breathed in the air, and coughed. Now what? Back to Canada? Maysah massaged her temples. No, not yet. Hex’s secret lair was a bunker; maybe it could stand something like that. She pulled out her faraday bag and prayed that Addison’s pager wasn’t crushed by her fall. It was still in tact. The first message made her laugh bitterly. Thanks for the warning, she thought. The second one made her stop. At least one of them were still alive, buried under that rubble.

The purple plasma cracked back to life around her as she stepped out of the crater, the pager safely tucked away in its little cage as the message from the siblings came through. Arguably, the others could take care of themselves, but Addison was only human so that made rescuing her a priority. Plus, it would be a hell of a lot easier guessing which pile of rubble was the front door than a side entrance. Maysah thought about Lazlo, but he’d been Hex’s pupil. Surely he had some tricks up his sleeve, even if his physique was normal and he was as close as she was to—Just focus on rescuing them. She began to move through the rubble when she saw the form of another person emerge from the ground. One of Addison’s team? Maysah moved closer. No, it wasn’t. Suspicion swelled up inside of her. The bunker gets blasted and then a mysterious super arrives on the scene? Maysah could easily take her out. All that was required was a flick of the wrist.

But the others needed help first.

“Hey, you! Over here” she shouted at the newcomer. “People are still inside. Help me clear this!”

With that, the middle aged, neon-purple glowing woman in mom jeans and cardigan began shoveling away rubbish at superspeed, melting down any pieces that were too large for her to toss with plasma blasts.

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖 - Cyberpunk Political Intrigue Roleplay

Lott never knew what she wanted to be when she grew up. Truth be told, any question about the future filled her with dread. When people asked her where she saw herself in five years she’d pause, pretend to think, and reply with some sort of canned, inoffensive answer like a managerial position. In reality, the idea of going five more years down any kind of set path just seemed exhausting because she could hardly make it through the five day work week without losing her mind. Still, she secretly admired the people who were adamant in what their future would hold, those annoying little pricks who thought they could actually be somebody. More often than not those intolerable twerps would realize the futility of their dreams and settle like she had, but every now and then a few of them would breakthrough into greatness. That’s how Lott saw the five candidates as they hung around the common area of the Swathe Street complex: all great in their own special way, and all equally as insufferable.

Gatch’s publicist stood off to the side, unnoticed, just as she preferred to be at times like these. Lott had arrived earlier that day with Gatch’s advance team. While they saw to it that the complex suite’s were properly prepared and (probably) bugged for the four other candidates, Lott took it upon herself to train everyone on staff how breaching certain topics to the media or other candidates would be in violation of their contracts. Basically, the message boiled down to “smile, nod, and keep your mouth shut”, and judging by the cold shoulders she had been receiving for the rest of that afternoon it had seemed to sink in. She was growing accustomed to the icy reception from the other members of Gatch’s team. Lott was fine with it; the fewer people who talked to her, the fewer people to notice how incredibly wasted she was currently.

It had not been Lott’s intention to get so twisted that she’d spent the last five minutes staring at the reflection of her face upon the black screen of her tablet, but sometimes it happens. Usually not at work, but today's work had gone on longer than usual and there had been plenty of time to kill and besides she’d taken a few doses of her anxiety meds to counteract the effects of the uppers she’d popped and she was totally as cool as a cucumber and surely nobody could tell anyway, right? Right. Right? Lott looked up, ready to see the entire room staring back at her and found that everyone was engaged in their own thing like usual. She smiled at her reflection. See, nobody even noticed. Her reflection didn’t smile back. It knew that Lott was in no state of mind to determine if someone was even looking their way. She looked back up. Gatch caught her eye.

It was the signal. She breathed deeply and tried to slow down her racing heart, a difficult task for anyone to do when they were about to approach a group with Samsara Washington standing among the others. Lott tucked away her tablet and moved across the lobby. It felt like she was walking on ice, so she kept her arms tucked into her coat pockets out of fear that she’d otherwise start flailing them. Her eyes didn’t leave Washington. He was a great dresser. Made Gatch look like some jerkoff wearing some thrift shop suit. She wanted to know where Washington got his suit, how much it costs, and if they could make one in her size. Lott was curious if they needed a publicist. She wouldn’t mind being under him. The corner of her numbed lips twitched as she gave Washington a final once over, and then turned to Gatch.

The look he gave her told her it hadn’t been the signal. Lott froze, pulled out her tablet, and stared into the blackness again. She was close enough to hear the candidates verbally jousting with one another. Lott’s ears perked up as she heard APEX Industries get targeted. Gatch may have been their golden boy but officially he was not a representative of their company. Technically, Lott wasn’t an official representative of their company, either, despite having a job lined up for her once she completed this campaign trail. She shot Petrukov a look as the woman suggested APEX wasn’t a necessity. If it hadn’t been for APEX sending Lott to reach out to Petrukov’s lawyer with some sensitive information the woman probably wouldn’t even be in the running for council.

Lott looked at Gatch and saw that he had no defense ready for the pre-debate debate. Screw waiting for signals, he was floundering. No media was to be allowed inside of the complex yet, but that didn’t mean people weren’t recording. She knew that she was. As much as she didn’t care for the Mayor, it’d look bad if word got out that he couldn’t spar. It’d look worse for Lott if she just let the other candidates gang up on him and tear down her boss and her (“former”) company. Lott slid up beside Mayor Gatch, tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, and pinned her tablet to her chest like a shield. She blinked. What was the plan here? She had just inserted herself into a conversation with some of the most potentially important people in the Twin City Sprawl and she was too high to even concentrate on anything but the pretty lights on Washington’s glasses.

“Cool glasses. I need to get me a pair of those,” said Lott. Her voice was hollow and empty. Even when she wasn’t in an enhanced state of numbness her words always sounded so passionless, as if she was either always being sarcastic or just bored by the mere thought of existence. She had meant what she’d said about Washington’s glasses, she just hadn’t meant to say it outloud. She tried to smile at him to show that she wasn’t being a jerk. It didn’t quite work—her face, that is. Sure, muscles moved and teeth were bared, but nobody could ever confuse that look for a smile. At best it was a pained grimace from someone who was aware of their own awkwardness; at worst it was a sneer from someone who thought the other person’s sense of fashion made them look like a real prick.

“Ms. Petrukov,” said Lott, turning her attention to the Pirate Party candidate. “We can assure you that the influx in employment of private security firms is little more than preventative maintenance to dissuade the sorts of unsavory characters that often attach themselves to political campaigns.” She let her eyes linger. “However, I can get in touch with a media crew if you’d like to make a statement in regards to your belief that the Reclaim doesn’t deserve protection and that the hardworking men and women of the security firms should be unemployed.”

“I’d also like to remind everyone that working with APEX is not working for APEX. The Mayor works for the people of the Reclaim Zone. While Mayor Gatch and the Reclaim are grateful for what the company does to help build and grow our little slice of the Twin Cities, any information we provide on the subject is mere conjecture. If you have any questions regarding APEX Industries, I can reach out to one of their representatives. Otherwise, perhaps we can save the debate for the debate?”

“If you’d like, I could show you to your room,” she finished. The offer was to any and all of the candidates, but Lott didn’t look at anyone other than Samsara. His glasses were just too cool.

Vivid Recollections Season 2: Into The False Light [COMPLETE]

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Campsite

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“He’s not a murderer, but thank you,” said Penny as Justin spoke up and took control of the situation.

Justin was right. As much as she wanted to punch Rita for holding out on her and Britney for bringing it up in the first place, they had much more important things to worry about than an invasion of privacy. Penny stood back and listened as the group debated possible plans of attack, and she jumped when the Hound spoke up. She even chuckled a little to herself. She thought by now she’d be used to otherworldly creatures appearing out of the ether. At least she managed to not flinch when the Speaker arrive and gave its piece.

“At least we can confidently cross one idea off the list,” said Penny as the Speaker disappeared. The things that had given into the Glutton didn’t seem free. They seemed more like puppets, pulled and jerked around by strings, and were dangerously prone to committing grievous self-harm in the name of redemption. She’d pass. “Honestly, I think there’s only one real option. I’m with Britney.”

“Sorry, Lynette,” said Penny, as walked over next to Britney. “Your idea isn’t a bad one, there’s just too many variables and, really, I’m not sure if I put much faith in jackasses from another dimension, especially jackasses that helped seal the Glutton here. And yeah, Justin, if you met Amethyst you wouldn’t fucking trust her either. She wears robes, man; she definitely wouldn’t bother to try and bring everyone back.” Penny smiled. “It’s just...I don’t want to throw away our one shot by putting our fate in the hands of people who don’t even give a shit about us. I trust everyone in this room....even if they may not trust me.”

“...I never said I didn’t trust you,” muttered Rita as she felt Penny’s eyes on her.

Penny continued, “We should do the Ascension like the Hound says, bring everyone back, and seal that orange glowing son of a bitch away for the rest of time. It’s the best shot we got.”

Vivid Recollections Season 2: Into The False Light [COMPLETE]

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Rita didn’t lower her glare as Britney gave them doomed scenario after doomed scenario. Put all their faith in the Hound and the Child? Rita trusted them about as much as she understood them, which was very little, and the idea that there were other things like the Glutton out there haunted her. Her eyes narrowed on the vines that Britney played with, and that loss of focus was enough to break her abstraction.

“Rita, you never told us what your abstraction was.”

“I thought I did,” said Rita hurriedly, her ears darting to the ground. She felt a tightness in her chest. She should lie. She had another abstraction. Did Britney know that? The others certainly did. She glanced at Tuyen. Maybe she could help. Rita needed to keep her abstraction a secret, especially from Britney. It’d be broken, otherwise, and leave her out in the dark. She felt her breath quicken. Penny could help her, right? She looked up at the blonde and all of the blood drained from her face. Penny didn’t look like she was about to defend Rita. She looked puzzled.

“Actually, I don’t remember if you did,” said Penny as she rubbed her chin. It was strange, wasn’t it? Rita wasn’t the only one whose abstraction was still a mystery to the group—Penny couldn’t recall a time Kimberly used hers—but it would be in the group’s best interest to know what they had to use against the Glutton. Penny opened her mouth to ask her a question.

“Why didn’t you do anything about Billy after I told you he tried to kill me?” blurted out Rita as she beat Penny to the punch, deflecting the question about her abstraction.

“Because he’s my brother and I don’t want to fucking believe that the only living family I had left could do something like that!” shouted Penny with exasperation. “I still don’t. He’s an asshole and an idiot, but Billy couldn’t hurt anyone.” Not on purpose, anyway. Not unless his seed had started to sprout. Her eyes darkened. “I said I’d watch over him just in case, but I didn’t think he’d just disappear in the middle of the night. I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

Penny bit her lip. She wouldn’t have said half of that if it had been her choice. She glanced over at Britney, realizing that she had figured it out first, and then took a step towards Rita. In comparison to her confession, Penny’s voice was quiet and composed when she asked, “Rita, what is your abstraction?”

“I—” Rita glanced away and tried to come up with another question to ask Penny, but her mouth was already moving. “I just ask questions and get answers.” She sheepishly grinned. ”Is that a problem?”

“No, it isn’t a problem,” said Penny, lying, as she stepped back and prayed Britney didn't do anything stupid.

Vivid Recollections Season 2: Into The False Light [COMPLETE]

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Campsite

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It was bizarre returning to where it all started. Penny found herself stopping and staring at the snow-covered husk of Dexter’s car where it rested a few yards away from the tree it had pinned Reese against. A thin frown set in on her face as she recalled that evening. If Penny had known things would turn out like this she probably would’ve joined everyone around the campfire as they drank and talked shit instead of search for her missing younger brother. Maybe if she had just accepted things as they were instead of try and push reality away she wouldn’t have even been in this town when all of it began. Although, the thought of not being in this town filled her with a kind of melancholy. As bizarre as it was to think, she was glad she was here.

Besides, someone had to be here to take Lynette’s side when Justin started proposing idiotic ideas. She trusted the hell out of the guy, but they were not splitting up. Penny kept it to herself, but she was concerned about what would happen when, no, if one of them succumbed to the Glutton’s influence. Regardless, it would be easier to handle the situation as a collective than as individuals. Also, she already knew where they could take a break.

“Yeah, I’m with Lynette. Splitting up is the last thing I’d want to do. The boy’s cabin was still relatively intact. We can hole up there,” said Penny.

Penny took her place back at the front of the pack and led the group to where she and Billy had hid during Scott Reese’s rampage. No place they found would be warm, but at least it hadn’t been hacked to parts by the bastard like the girl’s cabin so they could temporarily escape the elements. As they approached the small wooden building Penny shoved down a growing feeling of dread, mostly brought on by the hinged door being cracked ajar. She held up one had to stall the group and signaled for Justin to join her as she took a look inside. Fortunately, it seemed like the cabin was empty except for the unclaimed bags of campers. Penny stared at the pile. She felt like Billy’s bag should’ve been left there, but it was missing. She forced the thought out of her mind. Obviously, he had just grabbed it when running from Reese months ago.

“Okay, so Min brought up a good point earlier,” said Penny after the group piled into the cabin. She stood by the same window she had kept watch out for Reese at that summer, scanning the snowy grounds for any interlopers on the horizon. “To be honest, I have no fucking clue how we can fix the seals once we find them. There was nothing in the Mayor’s memory about it, Min?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Britney knows something,” muttered Rita under her breath. She sat on a bed with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up into her chest. She tugged at her sleeve as she glared over at Britney, trying to catch the woman’s eyes. “You keeping anymore secrets from us?”