Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
A captive audience, Imogen watched from down the beach as Maive and her gale-force poltergeist stood against the monstrous frog. She trembled instead of cheering, and she dared not raise her voice even if it couldnât be heard above the howling wind lest she attract even a modicum of the terrorâs attention, but all the same she fervently wished the other girl the best, and hoped that she would succeed. Whether she knew or liked Maive made no difference; this nightmare was an enemy far greater than petty interpersonal quibbles, and against such a foe, human beings stood together. Well, at least in spirit, if not in the flesh. The knowledge of Imogenâs own powerlessness gnawed her with shame and despair, but those feelings hadnât quite quenched something else that smoldered inside her. Deep within she still burned with anger, but that pilot light still sputtered in the dark, searching for more fuel. It wasnât yet time to ignite.
Some of the others did what they could, however. Orlando hurled rocks to try and give Maive a chance to recovery, and Verity gaveâŠâadviceâ. A Maive couldnât live on words alone, though, and she needed more time than the Orlandoâs courageous distraction could provide. But help did, coe, and came from an unexpected source: after a very long internal dialog, and no small amount of head-splitting agony, Daniel made his entrance. In the wake of the windstorm that rolled across the tropical island came a sudden, terrible chill. As its frigid fingers brushed across her skin Imogen tensed up with a gasp, hunkering down as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a protective self-embrace. Her gaze snapped to the figure that emerged from the foliage, wreathed in pearlescent fog. âH-huh!?â Behind him he cast a long shadow, deep and black as the bowels of the earth itself, and from the fated union of cold and dark rose a terrifying specter, hooded and shrouded in archetypal black robes. Imogen gawked, shivering in the sand. That tornado-mummy had been one thing, but this? It could only be Death.
"Kharon!" Danny shouted.
...Oh. Imogen blinked. The boatman from Greek myth, right? Not Death. Gotcha.
But like the apparition that preceded it, Kharon. seemed less interested in finishing the haggard students off, and more interested in the frog. In what seemed like a matter of seconds, the fearsome Persona smacked the frog in the face with his Boatman Blast, and things went poorly for it. The bug-eyed beast freaked out, its already-reprehensible face melting away as if doused in acid. In its death throes it hurled its captive (who Imogen could now identify as Sofia, restoring her belief in justice) into the air for a wild aerial rave. It reminded Imogen of old Sauce Engine physics. Unfortunately for Sofia, but fortunately for the world at large, her majestic flight soon turned into a headlong plummet into the eldritch ocean. Sploosh.
Diverting her attention from the toadâs gruesome demise, Imogen watched the spot where Sofia disappeared. No sign of her could be seen either attempting to breach or struggling beneath the surface. âThat sucks,â Imogen muttered. Despite her righteous vitriol toward Sofia, she didnât actually want the other girl to die. But Imogen wasnât about to risk a dip in that weird water. She glanced back toward the action to find that everything seemed to be over. The frog was gone, the wind subsided, and the cold relented, so Imogen walked over. She could see no sign of either of the mysterious beings that appeared to help the students in their hour of need. Maive passed out, and Daniel looked like death, but even if they seemed fine Imogen felt no need to pester them with useless questions. In a make-believe world like this, things didnât need to make sense.
That said, Imogen did have one question. Sheâd be lying if she said she didnât care about their well-being. With Maive unresponsive, she furrowed her brows toward Daniel, a worried frown on her face. âAre you okay?â she asked. Their future might be uncertain, if any future awaited them beyond this purgatorial place, but at the very least she could focus on the present.
Even if the vista of desolation laid out before Tora, filtered through the dreary haze of a raincloud-gray sky, filled him with a sense of melancholy, it couldnât dampen his spirit for too long when he kept such good company. Naturally he could face just about anything with Poppi around, but the teamâs newest recruit took an interest in the rotund engineer as well, and soon Tora found himself engaged in a lengthy conversation with Partitio to pass the time. Though different in disposition and speciality, they shared a sense of curiosity that made it easy to communicate, and of course Tora was only too happy to tell the merchant all about his pride and joy.
âThis is Poppi!â he practically sang, gesturing toward Poppi with both wings open like a showman. If his companion had the room, she might have performed a curtsy or some similar elegant formality, but without the space to do so inside the tricks interior she struck a pose with her hands on her hips, her head turned sideways with an amused smile. âPoppi invention of Tora, meh. She Artificial Blade originally designed to replicate capabilities of blade one-to-one, but after many-much adventure and development Poppi come into her own as incredible fighter and true-blue companionpon! Crux of matter is indispensable Ether Furnace, originally designed by Grampypon Soosoo and iterated upon by daddypon Tatazo, which draw in naturally occurring ether from environment for use as fuel. Can also reconstruct both body and weapons using ether to suit any challenge, meh. As product of many many long days and sleepless nights shut up in house, Poppi truly bestest invention, and living proof that Tora bestest inventor!â
He squeezed his partner close in a big hug, although his eyes bugged out slightly when Poppi squeezed him back, squishing him like a giant stress ball. âMost modest inventor, too,â she joked.
Cain, who happened to be riding in the truck, rested his chin in his hand in a thoughtful expression. âAh, a homemade masterpiece. Zat would explain why even in a city chock-full of machines, you truly seem to be one of a kind.â His bright blue optics roved between Tora and Poppi. âAlzough, I am curious about one thing, monsieur. How do you see her?â
âMeh-meh?â Tora blinked. âNot sure what friend mean.â
âHmmâŠâ Crossing his arms, Cain tried to think of how to phrase this. âWhat I mean is, what is ze nature of your relationship? Do you see her as, say, your daughter? Or perhaps something moreâŠintimate?â
The question seemed to perplex the Nopon. â...Not sure actually, meh. Not really give it much thought. All Tora know for sure is that Tora like Poppi very much!â
Cain tried to read Poppiâs expression, but her mental state was inscrutable. âFair enough, monsieur!â he replied, and the topic ended there.
Eventually, the trucks groaned to a halt at their pre-programmed destination. Eager to stretch their legs and stimulate their senses after the stiff, sore, and somewhat boring journey, everyone climbed out and set foot for the first time in the Valley of Ruin. It didnât take a lot of perception to see why this spot had been chosen as a salvage point. Neither Tora or Poppi recognized the once-proud machine splayed out before them, but the sight of a crashed passenger plane made Giovanna take a sharp breath. It lay in huge, grisly pieces with its tail in the air, its right wing lodged in a nearby building like a broken axeblade left to rust in a tree. Its cabin, ripped clean off by the catastrophe that transpired here, had come to rest a couple dozen feet away, the broken glass of its windows listlessly reflecting the rainy dayâs dim light, streaking down rivulets of rainwater like tears. At one point this section of destroyed city might have been a bustling, vividly-lit Chinatown, but all that remained now were the characters on decimated signs and red paper lanterns dangling from what few cable lines still clung to their crooked poles.
Especially with todayâs weather, it was a terribly solemn place, but the sight of the airplaneâs hull reminded Tora and Poppi why they were here. It had already been thoroughly picked over by previous salvage crews, whoâd unscrewed or cut off panel after panel of usable metal to make good use of the precious steel, titanium, and aluminum. Most of the other loot around here had already been claimed as well, but a little delving could still uncover a variety of suitcases with small amounts of cloth, batteries, booze, snacks, hair and face products, pills, cash, and other such goods. The trucks themselves also made sure to remind the alleged salvagers to get to work before time ran out. Nineteen minutes, twelve seconds remaining, the displays on their dashboard consoles read, counting out the seconds before the trucksâ automated departure. Of course, the Seekers werenât here to salvage, and they had no intention of letting their rides leave them behind. Giovanna approached Tora. âReady to do your thing?â she asked.
âBorn ready, meh.â Once helped into the driverâs seat by a boost from Poppi, the Nopon put down his toolbox, pulled out his microcontroller kit, and after a couple moments spent configuring the adapter, plugged right into the truckâs console port. He got tap-tap-tapping straightaway, a rather pleased look on his smug little face. âThis too easy for top-of-class code monkeypon like Tora, meh,â he said, despite having not taken any classes. Quickly he accessed the vehicleâs internal self-driving system. âOnly have, what, ten circuit boards?â It didnât take long at all to disable the truckâs automatic route. âLooks like it only drive on pre-recorded route, so canât turn autopilot back on to get back afterward,â he noted. âHopefully someone pay more attention to route on way here than Tora.â
Poppi frowned, thinking. âI can surface those memories. We should be fine.â
She helped her Masterpon out of the first truck, then boosted him up to repeat the process for the second. At the same time, the Rust Crew finished casing the area and reconvened with Giovanna beneath a surviving overhang to get out of the rain. âSo. Now that weâre in the woods, all thatâs left is to go hunting, eh?â Marshall asked.
The secret agent nodded. So far, her team had spotted a handful of Machines scattered around the area. Whether bipedal or aerial, they just seemed to mill about, although Giovanna couldnât discard the possibility that these units were scouts as well. âUh huh. Recon âtil we find anything that looks like an assault force. Weâve got a lot of ground to cover, so we should get moving. And destroy those Machines whenever possible. We donât wanna let them pile up.â It looked like another long, footsore day. Even if the coat sheâd borrowed from the Salvage Depot hampered her style, Giovanna was glad to have some protection against the rain.
âWe oughta use the trucks to drive between vantage points,â Bo mentioned. âThe higher the better.â
With that plan in mind, the teams got underway, identifying four high-altitude locations in different directions from the crash site that they could visit to survey the area. The Rust Crew took their truck northwest in the direction of an abandoned factory where a surviving smokestack offered a good spot to get a lay of the land. Tora and Poppi went with them, then broke off on the way to fly west toward a handful of overgrown highrises.
The other truck took Partitio, Susie, Giovanna, Pit, Roxas, and Zenkichi further south. There lay a district of flooded ruin in the shade of a great tree that grew from two skyscrapers that collapsed against one another. Strange Machines inhabited this zone, like the troops of baboon-like Clamberjaws that prowled the overgrown in search of fresh scrap, happy to use their tail dusters to spray noxious fumes or hurl hunks of metal ablaze with foul chemical fire. In and around the waterways lurked crocodilian Snapjaws able to slow down targets with sprays of freezing water to leave them vulnerable to a killer lunge. Worse still were the bulky resource collectors known as Widemaws, which used powerful vacuums to suck up minerals into their massive, drill-filled jaws for grinding. Further still stood a couple Shellwalkers stockpiling resources collected by other Machines into their containers. Not too far east stood an intact construction crane overlooking a neighborhood that never was. That crane crawled with Simians however, and the entire neighborhood featured a conspicuous patrol of Assault Shooters and Rapid Shooters. Wherever the Seekers went, excitement was sure to follow.
When the monsters appeared, Goldlewis was ready. From the moment he lost sight of the sky heâd been on high alert, cautiously moving step by step through the underground railway labyrinth as he waited for humanityâs enemies to appear, whether he found them or they found him. Now, the bright red flash of the Session Pounds and the bulbous, bloated silhouettes of Rotwarts through the smoke, bouncing along like over-inflated balloons just waiting to burst, kicked him into action. Heâd seen enough of war to know that any enemies that single-mindedly charged like this with no visible weapons were detonators.
âGet behind me!â he called out gruffly, stepping backward to try and herd the others back the way they came, out of the open where an attack could come from any angle. Instead Midna disappeared, and the others might be similarly disinclined to be protected, but Goldlewis was undeterred. His coffin slammed to the ground with a thoom, and the lid slid open. From insight the UMAâs spindly arms lifted up the Skyfish minigun, which Goldlewis gladly took and hoisted in his massive arms. Bullets sprayed through the haze and punctured several Rotwarts, detonating them long before they could reach their targets, but even though he lit up a pair of Session Pounds they neither exploded nor were visibly wounded. The minigun clicked empty, and after a disappointed click of his tongue in reply Goldlewis stowed it away. âDarnit. The flyinâ ones are goinâ out on their terms!â he warned the others. As the Others closed in, he lifted his coffin up like a shield, a semblance of a plan in mind.
In the smoke, Midna descended on one of the Mission Pounds. It fought back to preserve its own life, whirling around in a circle like a pinwheel to try and strike its attacker with its metal body, but it couldnât effectively counter the princessâs attack. Her angle and elemental attacks left it disoriented and tingling with electricity, leaving it open for continuous assault until she managed to finish it off. While the Missin Poundâs death didnât make the smoke around it vanish, it would soon dissipate without the source to replenish it, and as the screen began to clear Midna tangled with a Session Pound of her own. It did not go down easily, and when she escaped between some pipes the explosive Other struggled for only a moment before circling around to find another route. These things were determined. Floating lazily over the battlefield made Blazermate a prime target for them; even if she could see them coming thanks to her scan, this area wasnât enormous. Getting surrounded was both surprisingly easy and extremely punishing.
Karin found a way to use the Session Poundsâ relentless pursuit against them, however. Even if these enemies proved frustratingly unsuitable for melee combat, she could demonstrate clever use of the other tools at her disposal. With her grappling hook she bound two of them together, and almost instantly the Others got tangled around a pipe. Completely at odds in terms of directional movement, they tugged and tugged, hopelessly wrapping themselves around the pipe like a giant set of bolas. Shortly after binding themselves so tightly that they couldnât move anymore, the Session Pounds wrenched the section of rusted pipe clean off, which sent them spiraling into a corner of the room. There, Karinâs cinderblock promptly smacked into one of them, making it think it had been struck by something in melee range. It blew up, and the one at the other end of the line quickly followed suit, shaking the underground chamber with the twin explosions but hurting nobody. At the same time, water began to pour from the broken pipe, quickly pooling and spreading across the floor of the room. The Rootwarts splashed through it heedlessly, unaware of the potential hazard sloshing at their gnarled feet.
A couple Session Pounds closed in on the spot where Goldlewis stood in front of Geralt and Benedict. The latter used his new striker to sling an ice spell at one of them, but the freeze did not proc. Goldlewis prepared to swing his coffin to try and squash the Others with a Behemoth Typhoon or two, but he changed his mind at the last moment. If these things were going to wait to explode until in the perfect range to do so, he might as well let themâas long as they couldnât hurt him or his team. The veteran slammed his coffin foot-first onto the ground in front of him, and blue light flared out from within. A glowing hex shield appeared, covering almost the entire room to either side of Goldlewis from wall to wall, and when the Session Pounds blew up against it the barrier held firm. âHmph!â he snorted, smoothing over his hair with his other hand.
Once Midna and Karin finished dispatching their own targets, and however many detonators crashed against the rocks of Goldlewisâ shore to be broken, the scary but brief encounter came to an end. âNothinâ to it,â he said breezily, slinging his coffin back over his shoulder. He glanced down at he spirits left behind by the tamâs fallen foes, wondering if creatures like those could be made into Strikers that could explode like that whenever summoned. They might work even better than his Thunderbird drones. Then again, given how Strikers worked, that might blow him up. âHmm.â Leaving Midna to round the spirits up, he continued on his way.
Party: Goldlewis, Midna, Balzermate, Benedict, Karin Reward: +5 EXP
Continuing in the same direction brought the team to another abandoned train platform, separated by another platform to either side by train tracks that led into collapsed tunnels. The escalators that led upward also turned out to be dead ends, but the path continued straight ahead. Unfortunately, this liminal space wasnât unoccupied. Three particularly bizarre Others called it home, two on the left side platform and one on the right. The Saliva Santas appeared to be male and female bodies conjoined at the midsection, where they sat upon a metal box, and covered in blue fish scales. The male halves would use their head-tentacles to spray beams of watery spit at the Seekers from a distance. Their long-range sniping, performed either as precision shots or big sweeps, would stop only if they ran dry, their targets got too close, or they completely lost sight of them. In the first case the Santasâ male halves would plunge their tentacles into the ports on the femalesâ heads to extract saliva for a refill, and in the second the Santas would retreat into their extremely durable boxes. Fighting them at melee range necessitated taking them completely by surprise.
These Others proved to be a huge pain for Goldlewis. He couldnât outmatch them from long range, he couldnât hide behind the pillars in the room to cover his approach, and even when he finally got to the one on the right he couldnât crack its shell before it blasted him back with an explosive saliva reversal while still encased. âConsarn it all!â he spat, red with frustration and supplied with no shortage of spittle himself. Since the Santas seemed more keen on being massive annoyances than actually moving, he turned and left the room using his Wall of Light for protection. âRat bastards,â he muttered as he proceeded to the next room. Once everyone got through the door, he slammed it closed and shoved a piece of rubble in front of it to keep it shut even if the Saliva Santas managed to drag themselves over, provided any survived the other Seekers. âThe Scarlet Guardians can have âem.â
It was in the next, much larger room that the heroes found their next real challenge. Inside the reinforced cylindrical station, illuminated by the vivid red light of a high-power flare, were two large Others. Both sported equine hindquarters, long tails perfect for whipping, and treelike heads sprouting from metal valves. The one in full bloom with burgundy leaves, the Winery Chinery, lay on the ground like a tiger as it cleaned blood from its nails. Its counterpart with branches as bare of leaves as trees in midwinter, the Slippy Chinery, was on its feet and eating something. Fresh ashes lay piled around their feet. When they smelled the Seekersâ brains, they turned to look together, staring with the holes in their metal faces. Then they roared, the horrid noise reverberating through the room. The Winery Chinery crackled with electricity, and the Slipper Chinery lifted a hand to turn the valve on its head. Oil flowed from its pores to coat its metallic body, and after another moment the huge Other turned invisible. A torrent of water burst from the Winery Chineryâs face a moment later, forcing the Seekers to break formation as the battle began.
You have acquired: Blood Vial Special blood used in ministration. Restores HP. Once a patient has had their blood ministered, a unique but common treatment in certain rumor-shadowed places, only successive treatments can reproduce that same sublime feeling of invigoration Odd Vial An injector that contains a strange substance. Itâs hard to tell if itâs solid or liquid, matter or energy. It simply glows yellow, and it feels significant. As if the will to keep on living, or the resolve to change fate, were somehow materialized and encapsulated in this little vial
Still, she couldnât help but feel a little conflicted. On one hand, though an expert in subterfuge, Nadia Fortune was a thief, not an assassin. Once the Seekers disassembled Those Who Slither in the Dark, the last step of the mission would be squashing P himself, who -as Gallo rather callously mentioned- was a child. A loathsome, selfish, and abusive child, but still. On the other hand, this whole scheme felt just a little too good to be true. The Seekers would still need to put in some work, but Galloâs plan made the elimination of a Consul sound simple, and could that really be the case for a member of such a powerful organization? Gallo himself gave off a rather villainous impression, with âmad scholar of magicâ written all over him. Then again, his ego was his whole reason for rebelling against P to begin with, and ratting out his master like this was a pretty big risk. He couldnât stand up to P on his own, and if he thought the Seekers could, he couldnât oppose them either if he went for some sort of double-cross. He wasnât being all mysterious and secretive either, which was nice. Nadia decided that she felt optimistic about this.
Some of the others had questions. Sectonia immediately volunteered herself for the Agarthan stationed in the Royal Quarter; regardless of whether or not she possessed a discrete bone in her body, she heard the word âroyalâ and went straight for it. Rather than try to figure out where to start on her own she asked Gallo, who gave a nonplussed shrug as he turned up his nose. âIâm not what youâd call a socialite,â he told her. âIf youâre as well-versed in the games of nobles as you claim, I wouldnât dare offer any puerile suggestions. Your own expertise would surely serve you better?â Primrose asked him about Shambhala, and Gallo shared what little he knew. âI would not be at all averse to joining any raid you may envision on Shambhala,â he added. âWhile I greatly prefer the study to the battlefield, I daresay my signature weapon would be an invaluable means of support. I do insist upon being there when P flees to his sanctum, however. I want to see his face when I spring the trap. I care not who does the honors after that.â
Kamek lavished Gallo with flattery, but he took it in stride. Evidently all the honeyed words in the world would do him less good than seeing P and his toadies dealt with once and for all. Kamek and Primroseâs other suggestions, however, he did agree with. âIndeed, I bid you make haste,â Gallo advised. âNot so much that you slip up and botch things, mind, but the sooner the better. Strike as the ironâs hot, as they say. I myself will return to Gallo Tower and keep watch from the Clock Run. When youâre ready, I will open the gatesâ Rising from his seat, Gallo prepared to leave. He sighed heavily at Kamekâs last question. âTruth be told, I wish there was an easy way through here. But I picked this place for secrecy, not ease of access. I will simply walk. If you choose to descend through the air, be aware that the pounding rain is strong enough to beat down most winged fliers. It would not do to see my new associates dashed upon the pavement due to impatience.â
He took one step, then paused. âOh, one more thing. I believe that the last person to run afoul of the Agarthans without a plan is currently imprisoned somewhere in Shambhala. She may be of use if you free her.â
After that he began the descent, not waiting for the others. On the way through the hallway he almost ran into a yellow dinosaur on her way back from her kitchen to her room with a steaming cup of instant ramen. âDoctor,â Gallo greeted nonchalantly as he passed, glancing in the direction of her roomâs open door.
Alphys looked confused at seeing someone else in the Soul Sanctum for a moment, but when Galloâs eyes roved perilously near her computer screen she moved like lightning to block the door. âD-donât look in there!â A second later the door slammed shut, punctuated by the sound of multiple locks closing in quick succession. Gallo was already on the move, however. Before making his way downstairs he activated some sort of magic which began sending out light-blue rays in a rotating ring around him. If anyone followed behind him, theyâd see that when the rays came in contact with a monster, whether patient or Amalgamate, the aggressor would be frozen in time for a moment while Gallo coolly slunk by.
Nadia did not go back down through the Soul Sanctum. She planned to climb down the buildingâs exterior, confident that her clawsâ grip would outmatch the heavy rainfall. Before going, however, she took a few moments to confer with everyone else. âWell, I donât really have any objections,â she piped up. âCould be some kinda trap, but Iâm not seeinâ it. If he tried actinâ all nice he might be hidinâ somethinâ, but you can always trust a jerk to act like a jerk. And if itâs jerk-on-jerk violence, no matter who loses, the good guys win!â The bigger issue at the moment seemed to be Consul Pâs childlike appearance and demeanor. Something poignant occurred to Nadia as she mulled the matter over, though. âWellâŠwe did kill that Orphan of Kos thing, and we literally watched it get born. And it caused a lot less sufferinâ than P, it sounds like. Plus, Pâs the guy who tried to kill us already, right? So if you ask me, the kid gloves are off!â
At the very least, step one of the plan -get rid of the Agarthan kingpins- was agreed upon. âSo what, one or two of us per target?â Nadia ventured. âWell, Gallo said the one at the circus is an assassin, yeah? Why noy send in someone who canât be backstabbed?â Pulling out her box cutters, she neatly stored their blades in her case and slid the grips into her belt with a flourish. âIâm down to clown.â Once everyone decided between Kronya at the Amusement Park, Solon at the Downtown school, Cleobulus in the Royal Quarter, and Thales in Shambhala, everyone could split up and begin their separate missions.
Now that the Seekers knew the names to look for, the ones that went to the Royal Quarter didnât need to spend that much time searching at all. The word âCorneliaâ was plastered on almost every sign, display screen, and bulletin board they found, and her face -a visage of uncommon beauty and smirking, unfettered pride- appeared an all kinds of advertisements from fashion brands to perfume, but nothing so much as what appeared to be her pride and joy: the Royal Canopy Club. All the ads for that particular club, evidently the pinnacle of the Royal Quarterâs high-society artistry and entertainment, mentioned breathtaking performances âall night long - for the sun never rises in the Home of Tearsâ. They also listed off a number of other star performers, so it wasnât exactly clear if Cornelia would perform herself, or merely ran the show. At least the Seekers knew a likely spot to find her, but dealing with someone whose modus operandi seemed to be making sure as many people as possible were giving her attention at any given moment might be difficult.
Unless Cornelia could be beaten at her own game. The descriptions of the Royal Canopy painted one other picture about it: that it was where the best of the best singers, players, and dancers proved themselves, specifically over one another, all vying for the crown in a sort of musical battle royale. They fought for the favor of the esteemed patrons who attended their performances from their galleries on high, sipping fancy drinks and dabbing their lips with fancy napkins, and those who managed to win the audienceâs adoration through skill and spectacle were promised fame and fortune. Looking at the Royal Canopy through that lens, it seemed almost like a dolled-up colosseum, and if someone possessed the right skills for the job -as well as an âinâ- they might be able to upstage even the gala queen herself.
Nestled in the less-cluttered, less-claustrophobic part of the Downtime district, the Seekers could find the school they were looking for. Aptly titled âSchoolâ, it lay not far from the cavern wall, and it featured its own little fenced-off grounds where great pains were taken to preserve facsimiles of green grass, autumn trees, and white picket fences beneath a gigantic umbrella that shielded against the constant rain, beneath the apex of which warmly-colored spotlights served as an artificial sun. The result was a comfy, establishment of brown brick and white marble with a nostalgic small-town aesthetic, and though the recreated environment was ultimately a lie, the atmosphere it created probably did help keep the studentsâ depression at bay.
Somewhere inside that school, according to Gallo, was the Agarthan Dark Bishop Solon, disguised as the schoolteacher Tomas. Even if the Seekers ultimately decided to eliminate P, endangering the lives of normal children was probably out of the question, but that made things difficult. Their target was someone everyone in this establishment probably liked or at the very least knew. Chances were that heâd be surrounded by kids, and given his true identity as a villain, the worst case scenario could be very, very bad.
Luck might be on the Seekersâ side, however. Today was, after all, Sunday, and school was out for the weekend.
The Amusement Park was a curious place. Normally, any circus would have to be canceled if it rained, but given the circumstances this one had to adapt. As much, the entire fairgrounds essentially lay beneath a sea of red-and-white striped fabric awnings, some of them several stories high. All the water got channeled into the narrow canals that criss-crossed the district, small enough for even young monsters to hop over easily. Only the roller coasters and water rides were exposed to the elements. Everything else was dry, not to mention a bombastic bonanza of flashing lights, wild noises, and noisy attractions. Alongside the guests here, who themselves were monsters of all shapes and sizes, there were also tons of clowns. Some were silly, some were sweet, some were smug, and some were a little spooky, but all were generally trying to make sure the visitors had a good time.
âWowâŠthis place is in-tents!â
Of course, Nadia didnât need a clownâs help to be all smiles. Already sunny by nature, she felt almost giddy just being around here. She hadnât been somewhere this fun and jovial since Carnival Town after all, which felt like ages ago. Sadly, the feral knew she was here on business, not pleasure. Somewhere among all the fun and games was a killer in disguise. âAlright,â she muttered to herself, narrowing her eyes to get her bearings. âIf I were a murder-lovinâ psycho lady, where would I hideâŠ?â
When confronted by the Others, Luka had only a brief window in which he could size them up and take his pick. By now they could sense the psionicsâ brains, after all, so time was of the essence. Luckily, it was an easy choice to make. âIâll take care of the big one,â he notified his teammates as he set his sights on the Exonerator, wishing that he both sounded and felt a lot more confident. The pressure of setting the example for his brand-new team as its leader -which meant demonstrating both combat excellence and tactical awareness for his allies- was a big contributor, but not the only one. Part of the Scarlet Guardiansâ effectiveness came from the organizationâs shared pool of knowledge, freely accessible through SAS, which stemmed from the limited variety of Others in existence. However, Luka didnât recognize this particular Other. Right now this didnât concern him because of the admittedly low chance that his team discovered a new variant, but because it could possess any number of new and terrifying psychic abilities. That made the Exonerator his responsibility to handle.
Luka disappeared in a bluish burst, teleporting closer to the bizarre, baby-faced threat. He popped back into existence just above the water, sending it flying with the pressure of the air he displaced upon arrival, but before a single droplet spattered back down he blinked away again. By teleporting in quick succession, appearing for less than a second at a time, he quickly closed the distance. Before the Exonerator knew it, Luka warped above it, augmenting the strength of his hammerfall with the power of gravity. âHah!â the grunted, smashing down on what should be the strange monsterâs forehead. The material buckled under the hefty bash, and various pieces forcibly dislodged from its frame flew in every direction. With a weird squeal the Other furiously backpedaled, trying to align its lightbulb with Luka, but he wouldnât allow it that chance. In a blink the pint-sized powerhouse teleported behind the Exonerator for another carapace-cracking wallop, yet again using outside force to amplify the power of his strike, in this case the opposing force of the Otherâs backward roll. The result was a satisfyingly brutal bludgeon, and as the Exonerator reeled, trying to get away, Luka pressed his advantage.
He used the centripetal force of his weapon to whirl him around like an olympic hammer thrower, delivering blow after crushing blow, but after a moment he realized heâd gone out of control. Before he could take a potentially disastrous tumble he teleported a short distance away, resetting his momentum, but the Exonerator managed to face him in the open area and finally get off a flash of its bulb. Its vivid yellow flare slammed Lukaâs senses like a flashbang, not just burning his eyes but momentarily frying his mind. âAgh!â he cried, unable to stop himself as he dropped his hammer and planted his palms on his eyes, limply falling to his knees in the water as he did. Completely paralyzed, he couldnât do anything as the Exonerator promptly ran him over, crushing him against the subway tracks beneath the waterâs surface.
However, Luka rose again after a brief moment, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed thinly together. Though dripping wet, heâd suffered no broken bones, and heâd learned an important lesson. âSo thatâs your game,â he told the Exonerator as it turned around, lifting his hammer from the water. âI wonât make the same mistake again.â He teleported point-blank and struck the Other like a slap to the cheek, knocking it askew. The next second he was above it again, his hammer raised for an overhead smash on the lightbulb. A whirring wail sounded out as the Exonerator wheeled backward, turning sideways to fix its newly-recharged bulb on Luka. âHmph.â Borrowing Peachâs power through SAS, he materialized a wall to block the light, then hurled his hammer straight through it toward the Otherâs lightbulb, guided by Sakuraâs telekinesis. The wonderful sound of broken glass rang out as the weak point shattered, its baleful glare extinguished, and as the Exonerator slumped over a different bulb plopped out of its open mouthâthe one that meant Luka could finish this with a Brain Crush. He teleported into the air, caught his hammer, and brought it down on the second bulb to finish the Exonerator off for good. âOne down,â he muttered, and he quickly bent to collect the spirit.
Meanwhile, his allies were working their way through the other Others. Raz split from the other three, zooming down the tunnel to bash into and then psi-blast an unlucky Rainy Rummy. When the junior psychonaut stopped to showboat, however, he quickly realized that the Other could, in fact, reach him. Sparking with yellow electricity, it aimed its umbrella frame at him, popped it open, and unleashed a lightning bolt his way. Its tottering compatriots followed suit, spreading out in the tunnelâs flooded center section to open fire on Raz in a seven-point thunderstorm assault. Their accuracy, though, was far from perfect, and they could only zap as fast as they could close their threadbare parasols again. Forced to stay on the move and out of the electrocution-prone water, Raz would be getting a lot of mileage out of his acrobatic expertise. Heâd dealt a little over half that first Rainy Rummyâs health with his batter-and-barrage, so he could take these things down if given the chance to focus, but whether or not heâd be able to on his own might be another matter.
Fortunately, he wasnât on his own. Peach joined him as fast as she could, and she heralded her arrival with a one-two punch of explosions from a grenaduck and her rocket launcher to ruin the Rummiesâ formation. âOver here!â she yelled at them as she took to the air. A few of the Others took aim at her, but the princess kept herself on the move. Making herself essentially weightless through the power of Levitation, she kicked off the ground, the walls, the ceiling, the tunnelâs support pillars, and the Rummies themselves whenever she got close to launch herself around like an astronaut. Her Scatterboomâs tremendous blasts both dealt a lot of damage and sent her flying in the opposite direction at high speed like this, which Peach quickly learned to use to her advantage. As long as they stayed mobile, Peach with her area-of-effect and Raz with his sharpshooting, the two of them could take these Rummies apart.
At the moment though, Sakura, Dexio, and Sina were all occupied by the Rat Ruts. Sakura subjected the one sheâd managed to get in close quarters to a blunt-force beatdown, making solid progress on its shell. This Other was far from helpless in melee range, however. It suddenly started doing donuts, whirling around in a violent circle to try and his Sakura with either its body or its six lateral prongs, and one of which could bash or gouge a weak point if she was unlucky. Another Rat Rut remained farther away and started shooting oil at her, putting Sakura in double the trouble.
The Rat Rut that nearly rolled over the Street Fighter, meanwhile, also tried to do the same for the other two, forcing them to jump to either side. âCool it!â Sina chided, lifting up her right arm with her left hand clenched around her right bicep. Her Refrigerant Coil came to life, channeling her cryokinesis to unleash a volley of ice blasts from her palm. At the same time, Dexio pounded the Rat Rutâs metal shell from the other side with his cestus. That shell held firm, however, only lightly dented by Dexioâs punches and seemingly unaffected by the ice. Without warning the Other began doing donuts, its six lateral prongs outstretched, and both Scarlet Guardians took painful blows. Dexio staggered, but Sina got knocked clear off her feet, and when she landed beside the track at the waterâs edge the impact drove the wind from her lungs. âUuuughâŠâ she grunted, fighting for breath as Dexio kept trying to box the Rat Rut. She loosed a couple more ice blasts, but no amount of buildup on its shell seemed to slow the monster down. âThis isnât working,â she growled, dropping her hand. As she did, she felt the water begin to chill around her hand, and looked down to see the water freezing over around her. âWait a secondâŠâ
As Dexio got knocked back again, Sina crouched at the edge of the flooded area and unleashed her Cryokinesis. A wave of ice spread across the calf-deep water, and when he spotted it Dexio caught on. With the plan communicated through Brain Talk, he took off running to bait the Rat Rut onto the ice, at which point its single narrow wheel promptly slipped and toppled its heavy body to the ground. At that point Dexio stopped, planting his hand on the ground. His Seismokinesis spread through the earth, causing it to shake. After only a moment the whole area was vibrating dangerously. â...Crumble!â he growled, and from the ceiling a massive chunk of rock shook loose to fall on and shatter the Rat Rutâs shell. With the Otherâs papaya core exposed, Sina needed only to freeze it with an ice shot so her partner could shatter it with ease. âScore one for DexioâŠâ he crowed.
âAnd Sina!â his partner finished. With their allies still in danger though, they couldnât goof around for long. They hurried down the tracks to help the others clean up.
No recognition glimmered in either Tifa or Cloudâs eyes when Roxas confronted them. If anything they seemed a bit put off by the strangerâs sudden introduction and forwardness, and though Tifa at least put on a friendly face, Cloud looked suspicious. Someone knowing the name of his new acquaintance he could understand since hers was a welcome and familiar face in town, but his? Heâd just arrived. While Roxas admitted they wouldnât know him, the extra information he offered sounded like nonsense, and it didnât explain why this kid knew his name.
Sensing the mercenaryâs guardedness, Tifa tried to smooth things out. âWell hi there, Roxas.â She gave Cloud a smile, part disarming and part reassuring. âAlways a friendly face around here.â Then she turned back to Roxas. âWeâre a little busy right now, but you can almost always find me behind the counter at Seventh Heaven when weâre open! See you later.â She waved, and without any further awkwardness or embarrassment, headed on her way. Cloud gave Roxas a last narrow look but turned and followed Tifa without a word, choosing to believe that this stranger simply happened to hear his name at some point since his arrival last night. At the very least, Roxas had time to think of a better opening before he got his next chance to see one or both of them at Seventh Heaven later that day.
Back with the rest of the group, Tora was happy to see that rather than try to continue with his rabble-rousing, Partitio joined the Seekers instead. Zenkichi spoke the truth when he said things would probably get rough out there today, but as long as the merchant pledged his strength, Tora was happy to accept him with open wings either way. âGood to hear, meh!â he told Partitio. âMany Nopon end up as merchants, so even though Tora inventor, am very well acquainted with businesspon.â He blinked, scratching his chin with one of his winfingers. âWould like know however, what can friend Partitio do in terms of combat? Plan today not involve much talking, meh.â
With the distraction offered by Partitio, Zenkichi and Poppi ended up paying a visit to the Rust Crew by themselves. The detective greeted them with a call and a wave, drawing their attention. Even if Poppi hadnât been a particularly important part of their long and arduous day yesterday, they still recognized her when she waved today, especially the robot Cain, who left Zenkichiâs preamble to the others. âAh, bonjour, mademoiselle,â he greeted her, reaching out his hand. Thinking he wanted to shake, Poppi extended her own, but to her surprise Cain gently took her hand and raised it to his faceplate as if to kiss it despite his lack of lips. Tink. âIt does me good to see you in health.â
Poppi blinked, thrown for a complete loop. âO-oh, uhâŠuh, yes, thank you.â
She gingerly retracted her as she turned her attention to Zenkichi, and Cain evenly followed suit. The detective kept things short and to the point, but even what little he did let slip piqued the squad leaderâs interest. âOh yeah? We almost got her, but things ended up gettingâŠcomplicated. Still.â He sized Zenkichi and Poppi up with a different frame of reference in mind, his arms crossed. Once he and Big Bo exchanged a glance, he cracked a wry smile. âWell, someoneâs gotta get things done around here. Might as well be us. We were fearing the worst when we lost the Hollow Child, but now that we know for sureâŠâ
âWe can do somethinâ about it,â Bo finished, nodding as he turned toward the motel room. âIâll get the goods.â
Cain went to help, and Marshall stepped away for a moment to make a radio call, briefly mentioning reinforcements. He returned at about the same time Tora waddled over, and seeing the Nopon made him grin. âYou on mission with us too, little guy?â
âTora ready to reclaim some scrap!â he proclaimed, using a wing to give the thumbs-up. âAny mechanical issues out there, Scruffypon just leave to Tora!â
âIâll do that.â As Bo and Cain returned with their equipment in tow, Marshall looked between Zenkichi and Poppi for information. âSo whatâs your plan?â
âWeâre hitching a ride with the salvagers, I think,â Poppi replied.
Marshall nodded. âBetter than hijacking a DespoRHado transport, eh Cain?â
âI merely said it would be interesting, monsieur,â the robot off-handedly replied. He flicked his head toward the Salvage Depot as if to say shall we? and without further ado everyone got moving.
The location in question was a lively one, with a number of well-equipped people and formidable six-wheeled trucks rolling around, unloading cargo and loading fuel. Poppi spotted Giovanna in conversation with an ordinary-looking everyman in a futuristic suit with copper-colored armor, presumably the Isaac Clarke she heard about while asking around. When the secret agent saw her entourage headed over through the freight yard, with the Rust Crew trio in tow, she jogged over to meet them halfway. âGood news,â she told them. âWell, in a sense. On one hand, we caught them at a good time. Itâs all hands on deck to clear out the current wrecks and caches. On the other hand, thatâs because their long-range scanners are detecting movement from the Machines. Like the tide going out before a tsunami. Theyâve gotta be quick to pick up the fish.â She put her hands on her hips. âSo, weâre probably looking at an attack, just like we thought. Anywhere between three and eight hours from now, if so. Theyâre gonna raise the alarm once they know for sure, but âtil then theyâre gonna batten down the hatches and take everything not nailed down, which is where we come in.â She raised her eyebrows at the Rust Crew. âAlong for the ride?â
âIf it means trashing some machines, weâre all aboard,â Bo spoke for them.
âThatâs enough for two trucks then. Of course, they donât take chances with their hardware here. The trucks have their routes locked in for maximum safety, with scheduled pickup and dropoff times. They drive themselves out, wait for the salvagers to load âem up, and drive themselves back. No human error.â She winked at Tora. âAnd of course, I know âno humanâ whoâs good enough with machines to do something crazy like, I dunno, override the program and give us direct control.â
Tora -whoâd been trying to find Rex amidst all the salvagers as the depot- gasped, his eyes wide. âThat me!â
âThen whatâre we waiting for?â Giovanna tossed him a hardhat, which Tora caught mostly with his belly. When he looked up, she was already wearing one. âWeâve got a quota to meet.â
Once ready to roll, the two trucks started on their own accord and began to maneuver through Scrap Boulevard, with the ten members of the team split between the first and second trucks. As much as Tora wanted to start meddling straight away, Poppi convinced him to hold off until the team reached the halfway point, that being the designated salvage point. On the far side of Scrap Boulevard, which itself harbored the scars of many a past battle, lay a massive perimeter wall with a massive hole in the center thanks to a dedicated Machine invasion at some point in the past. Some stopgap gates had been erected in the breach by the locals, and they swung open to allow the trucks through, but Poppi knew they wouldnât hold for long should they come under attack again. Better to not let the Machines reach the undercities in the first place, although Poppi knew as well as anyone the Seekers by themselves couldnât fight an entire mechanical army. They needed to find some other way to make a difference out there.
Once through the gates, and out under the rainy sky, the trucks rumbled due south. The farther south one went on the continentâs northeastern peninsula here, the lower in elevation it got, turning from temperate and autumnal at the educational northern shore to the river-carved badlands around Midgar itself to the Valley of Ruin to the south, where swampland and overgrowth choked the remains of sprawling cities. Formerly metropolises perhaps even comparable to Midgar in size, albeit far more conventional in appearance, these destroyed cities seemed to go as far as Poppi could see into the distance, nestled between the eastern and western ranges. Abandoned by humanity and reclaimed by nature, the buildings looked almost like mountains themselves, and the Seekers were already rolling into the foothills.
Tora wore a sad expression as he peered out into the distance through the rain. âSo much devastation. So many people, long gone. Especially with rain, itâŠit make Tora feel sad.â
With a slight smile, Poppi patted his head. She couldnât help but agree.
Goldlewis stared, mouth agape, at the contingent of Seekers newly returned from the reservoir with the stink and stains to prove it. None of them seemed to be wounded at all, but whether that came as a result of their own performance or of Blazermateâs healing, only they could say. Along with them they brought one hell of a story and a squat, scraggly-haired, part-alien bum wrapped and shivering in a raggedy blanket. Even putting aside the color and translucence of the skin across patches of his body, it didnât take a genius to tell he wasnât well. He clammed up the minute the away team brought him in, and just sat in a dark corner where he twitched as if addled by some sort of muscular disorder, muttering things about Suoh, Seiran, psychics, and psifish with varying levels of coherence and consistency. The last of the Bridges renovators spared him a worried look as they left the building, giving the reservoir visitors as wide a berth as they could.
âLord have mercy, Iâm too old for this crap.â Goldlewis gave a groaning sigh. Two men as old or older than himself should have known better than to dive headfirst into that dingy swamp. He removed his glasses and kneaded his wrinkled temples with his palms. âLook, yâall. I donât mean to be rude or nothinâ, but thereâs an awful lot ridinâ on us. We canât afford to run off half-cocked and pick a buncha fights when we donât know what weâre gettinâ into. I mean, I know Iâm new to the Seekers anâ all, but ainât there gonna be a day yâall kick the wrong hornetsâ nest? If those psifish you found were even a smidge more aggressive, theyâdâve popped your noggins like they popped them those doggone ghouls! How dâyou know you ainât got somethinâ in your heads right now? And even putinâ aside all that, we canât have ya pickinâ up dysentery, parasites, or worse from that stinkinâ bog down there, either.â
He glanced over at the former soldier known as Taro Chalmers, who had yet to drink from the cup of water heâd been given. His face creased itself in pity. âI know yâall wanted to do the right thing, but we ainât equipped to take care of this poor fella here. Heâs hurtinâ somethinâ fierce, both body and mind. All that time spent around psifish musta done a number on him. This man needs a hospital and trained medical professionals. I donât give a damn whether fusionâs legal or not; the consequences donât matter if he ainât alive.â He rubbed his whiskers for a moment, thinking, before he snapped his fingers. âWeâll send him through the portal. Chances are heâll get better treatment in Sector 7 than here.â
Once that was taken care of, Goldlewis rounded up the whole group. âAlright, listen up now. While yâall were down there, I got some news from Raz. The Psych-OSF opâs moments away from startinâ and itâs happeninâ down in the subway tunnels next to sectors 5 and 6, not far outside the city. Did any oâ ya see any tunnels while pokinâ around down there?â They had not; scouting had been neither a reason for their descent nor a byproduct of the time spent at the reservoir. Goldlewis shrugged helplessly. âWell, I hope you guys ainât outta steam from all that fightinâ, cause weâve got a doozy of a day ahead of us. The subwayâs sâposed to be crawlinâ with Others. Our goalâs to get in and meet up with Peach, Sakura, and Raz. Clear out any monsters in the way, make sure our buds are fine, and figure out whatever we can about Psych-OSF and the Ever Crisis.â He raised a cautionary finger. âOne thing. No matter who we run into, this is our story. Weâre part of the Special Operations Unit, sent in by Konoe himself to make sure the operationâs runninâ smoothly. My name oughta be enough to lend us all the credence we need.â He nodded at Benedict. âBut havinâ a Turk along should help shore up any doubts.â He grabbed his coffin, flung the massive object over his shoulder like a fall cardigan, and headed for the door. âNow letâs get a move on. On the double!â
Reaching the cityâs edge in Seiran proved to be a lot tougher than in the Sector 07 Slums. Rather than walk there, the Seekers needed to find a roundabout path through the skyscrapers via the network of bridges, rooftops, and cable cars. In the end, with what little time they were allotted, they found just one means by which they could descend to earth at the border between reservoir and the wilderness beyond Midgar: a defunct cable car system repurposed into a dangerous zipline. It meant a sizable detour, since the former fishing village at its base lay closer to the edge of Sector 04 than 06, but there were no better options. Unfortunately for Geralt and Benedict, it seemed like switching teams wouldnât save them from flying along at lip-flapping speeds suspended beneath a length of metal. Luckily, the cables proved tough enough to hold even Goldlewisâ weight, although he requested that Blazermate help provide a little lift on the way down just in case, anyway. Using the zipline, the heroes made it to earth, far from the area of the reservoir that Midnaâs crew disturbed earlier, but not quite free of the mireâs grasp.
Before the reservoirâs decline into hideous stagnation, the Stilt Village mightâve been the perfect old-fashioned callback to seafaring Seiranâs maritime roots, alive with hardy inhabitants and wistful vacationers casting baits and nets to dine of the salty lake in a bid to return to the simple, natural life. Now, though, there were no fish to be found, and the carcasses of abandoned fishing vessels festered in their watery graves. Only troglodytes and dying psifish chrysalises now dwelt in the half-collapsed hovels above the putrid red-tinted surf, their insane scratchings seldom audible over the miserable creak of loose, rickety boards.
Goldlewis watched his step carefully, not eager to put a foot through any of these rotten planks and plummet into the contaminated brine. With how long itâd take the team to even reach the subway, they could afford to get tangled up or bogged down anywhere on the way. The UMA in his coffin helped point the way as he guided the Seekers through the Stilt Villageâs decrepit maze, heading southeast. His airdash came in handy during big jumps, but the others could find their own ways to get around. He expressly avoided the packs of roving trogs, ghostly chrysalis drifters, and anything that looked particularly loathsome while still making decent time, according to his well-used wristwatch. Even if there was loot to be had in these hovels, left behind as the previous inhabitants fled from the psifish scourge, he wanted no part of it. Nothing wholesome could come out of a place like this, not anymore.
Eventually he found it. Just outside of Stilt Village lay a wooden train station, and beneath it, a single underground platform. Naturally, this had to connect to the rest of the network Raz mentioned, and sure enough, when the team reached the station they found evidence of Psych-OSF presence. âLooks like some kind oâ rally point,â he told the others, taking note of the supplies and communication equipment left here. âMust be planninâ to come back out this way once folks in the area get done cleaninâ up the tunnels.â He trooped down the stairs toward the platform, using a comm glyph to dial in his location as he went. âAll we gotta do is follow in their footsteps.â
Pretty soon, Goldlewis followed them straight into the site of an Other encounter. The underground tunnel opened up into a small enclosed area, mostly ruined and pierced in a few places by large roots. Odd red plants flourished here, including a kind of red flower he hadnât seen before. Another thing that caught his eye was the Missin Pound pinned to one of the roots, still weakly eking out smoke from the top of the sacklike organ within its cagelike body. A spar of rebar had been forcibly jammed through the rungs of the cage, the sack, and out the other side before the Other had been left to die. Upon noticing the Seekers, it began to exude more smoke, but without much left in the tank it failed to pose even the most tangential of threats. Still, worth noting in the veteranâs eyes. âWeâll be needinâ your scanner of more of these show up to lay down smokescreens,â he told Blazermate. It looked like the Psych-OSF squad went left from this junction, so Goldlewis turned right. After another minute or so that brought the team to a open room lined with old pipes, and barely did they arrive than a pair of Missin Pounds appeared to fill the room with smoke. âThere we go,â Goldlewis grunted, although movement in the shadows told him there was more to this ambush. Through the haze came curtain-flapping, antler-bearing Session Pounds, flashing rapidly as they closed in on the newcomers to violently self-destruct. At the same time, some of the locals appeared with a similar strategy, though their charges ended with a violent explosion of corrosive Root Rot instead.
Just as Nadia pulled her arm back to hurl her box cutter away, Ichiban suddenly -and unexpectedly- interceded. Someone with a lick of sense in his head might have attempted to grab her throwing arm rather than jumping in the way of a very-soon-to-be flying weapon, but his chosen method of stopping her short was brave, foolhardy, and effective; though unable to completely stop herself in time, the moment the frizzy-haired man placed himself in her path, Nadia managed to instinctively detach her own forearm to stop herself going through with the throw. âHey!?â
Her box cutter blade clattered to the floor along with her arm, and Endogeny went for it. Even if the fetch amounted to only a couple feet, the monster bounded toward Nadia, flecking a strange liquid from its orifice. Seemingly unaware of its massive weight and powerful gelatinous body, it accidentally knocked the feral off her feet as it went to retrieve her sword, although the sudden fall surprised Nadia a lot more than it hurt her. She scooped up and reattached her arm, then got up to see Endogeny offering her the weapon it retrieved, its tails undulating proudly. âOh,â she muttered, gingerly retrieving her box cutter to make extra sure she didnât hurt the critter. Despite everything, it still seemed to be a dog, and a good dog at that.
Jesse showed up, and she wasnât too happy about the halt in forward progress. âNo need to waise the woof,â Nadia hissed under her breath. âJust go another way. There was another staircase, right?
Ichiban then revealed his plan, which turned out to be a lot better than Nadiaâs. In hindsight, sacrificing her brand-new (and expensive) weapon just to the amalgamate off her back wasnât one of her brighter schemes. âOhh, thatâs aâŠa smart idea, yeah.â As Ichiban fed Endogeny delectable sausages from his pocket reserves, which the amalgamate accepted into its unfathomable gullets with gusto, the cat burglar marveled at the foresight it took to make such careful preparations. âGood thinkinâ, Ichi. If I lost my sword dealinâ with this dog, it woulda been âruffâ.â Despite being in his forties and being kind of a doof, Ichiban had been doing well in the Soul Sanctum so far. He could hold his own against some of the foes the team ran up against, and he did not push his luck against the more powerful horrors that reared their ugly heads. The fact alone that he chose to accompany the crew to such a dangerous and ill-omened place when a handful of their own did not suggested that he might be hero material himself.
When all those shapeless wretches first started showing up, always appearing from odd angles and often attacking either silently or a few at a time, things had been something of a scramble for the Seekers. Of course, things could only be so creepy with Bowser and Sectonia around. The former promptly went on a rampage backed up by a posse of offense-oriented Kamek clones, nearly setting fire to the towerâs dry, dusty interior with their flame in their eagerness to mow down all the spooks. Sectonia, meanwhile, flooded the rooms and halls with her antlions, packing them like sardines to pound any haunts into submission the moment they appeared. Together the royals and their cohorts did a lot to diminish this placeâs atmosphere. That said, the patients still posed a threat with their manic, flailing strength, and the farther the group went into the Soul Sanctum the more they got spread out, each forced to contend with their own handful of threats. Unless something ridiculous showed up, though, Nadia figured sheâd see the others again at the top.
She turned her attention away from the staircase and the distant noises of combat and back to Endogeny. After happily glutting itself on Ichibanâs food, the amalgamate leaned its dripping, amorphous body on him, twitching affectionately. âHuh. Furrykey as it looks, itâs actually kinda cute.â Not having to kill everything in her path was honestly kind of nice. Though she didnât want to put away her sword in case something else showed up, Nadia switched it to her off hand, then went over and stroked Endogeny just to try and make sure it was happy. The tarry substance around its gaping pit-face began bubbling up into a happiness froth, and its epidermis quivered with what might have been a contented sigh. Nadia considered giving the monster a tummy rub, but she couldnât tell exactly where the tummy began or ended. Idly she wondered what could have happened to make this creature like this, or if it just started out this way. Either way, with Endogeny essentially pacified, Ichiban could slowly ease its bulk off his body and join Nadia on their continued ascent through the Soul Sanctum.
Nadia continued to climb with a spring in her step despite the eeriness ambiance and haunted atmosphere, her wellspring of energy topped up by her surprisingly heartwarming encounter with Endogeny. Few of the creatures she met on the way up, however, proved to be as pliable. Her keen senses and reflexes spared her a nasty contusion courtesy of a patient patiently waiting just through a doorway. When it swung its rusted IV pole at her she popped her head off as she went low. She planted one of her feet in the side of its knee, taking its spindly leg out at the load-bearing joint, then drove her box cutter upward straight through its bag-head. Her own slammed down on top of the sack with the help of a blood rocket from her neck, pushing it further onto the blade, and from there Nadia could run up the wall and flip over the patient to carve the bloated bag clean in half. What sludged out onto the floor didnât bear looking at, and the smell nearly made Nadia convulse, so she popped her head back on and hurried on her way.
After a few more scraps, she reached a strange room near the top. At first she thought the room had been overgrown by a strange leafy plant, but as the fronds moved she realized that they must be hordes of butterflies, and the feral spotted a handful of strange creatures. Pallid, bulbous, and ill-defined, they stood around with empty eyes as if waiting for her to make a move. There were no Mistakes or Follies here, nor patients, just these bizarre humanoids. Nadia swallowed, unsheathed her other box cutter, then began to move forward, one step at a time. She tried to give the Everymen a wide berth, but when she got near any of them they turned their empty sockets on her, and before she made it through one quickly started to plod her way. The cat burglarâs nerves wouldnât let her stand still. âFuzz off!â She sliced through it with her blades, cutting through it like butter, but Everyman barely seemed to register her slices. It headbutted her right in the nose, and with a growl she pivoted on her heel and kicked its head clean off.
The monster stumbled back, then without ceremony, grew another head. A chill ran through Nadiaâs body as the hair on the back of her neck stood up; around the room, the butterflies took wing. They clustered together on the heads of the Everymen, causing them to writhe and thrash, and make muted cries of pain. The one Nadia hit tottered toward her, butterflies swarming around it, its arms outstretched. âScrew this!â With a yowl the feral ducked under its arms, slammed a Purrge of Vengeance orb into its back to blow it apart in a watery explosion, then ran for the door.
A few moments and a couple staircases later, Nadiaâs run finally slowed to a jog, and after another few seconds she came to a stop. The roar of drumming rain sounded a lot louder now, and a peek through a nearby window confirmed that she was pretty high up. This floor looked like a cross=shaped hallway that intersected four rooms, with three staircases leading down and just one leading up. There must be multiple routes through the Soul Sanctum to get here, Nadia realized, but only one way forward. That meant the others might have run into different frights and foes on their way up, and that things could be different for her going back down, too. Like hell I am, Iâll just claw my way down the outside, she resolved. One thing did perturb her: she could see colorful lights beneath one of the hallway doors, and hear various noises coming from within. Curious, she moved closer. It sounded like music, sound effects, and a variety of voices in a language that Nadia didnât understand. Was someone watching something in there? Nadia didnât know who would choose to live in a place like this, but IGVâs letter mentioned the top floor, so this couldnât be him. She rubbed her nose and sat down to wait for the other Seekers.
Once everyone arrived, they proceeded to the top floor. Here, the rain pounded down on the glass windows in the dome ceiling, reinforced with veins of wrought iron like leaves. Except for discarded tablets and a single chair, this floor appeared to be a single wide-open room, with no spooks or surprises beyond the lone figure who stood opposite the stairs, a mage or perhaps a scholar, his back to the Seekers as they climbed up. At the noise he turned, sweeping his fine cloak aside, and regarded the newcomers with a politely interested expression, as if theyâd just related an anecdote he was supposed to find amusing. He wore an exquisite blue robe, hemmed with gold, as well as a floppy brown hat atop well-kept shoulder-length black hair, and his sunken eyes were no less dark. In his hand he held a red tome, embossed with gold, and after his brief dramatic movement his cape settled neatly behind him. âGood morning,â he greeted the Seekers, his voice deep, silky, and as refined as his appearance. âPleased to make your acquaintance. I am Iguana Gallo Valletto.
âIGV,â Nadia said aloud, her brain cells audibly rubbing together.
âHow adroit,â Gallo purred, glancing coolly around the assembled heroes and villains. âYou certainly came in force. Iâm glad. I trust the poor creatures down below gave you no trouble?â
Chuckling through her nose, Nadia stabbed her box cutters into the carpet and crossed her arms, her tail flicking behind her. âGhosts and such donât spook us. Weâre big game haunters by now. What up with those things, though?â
âThe pitiful products of vast and varied attempts to harness the power of souls for their own ends,â Gallo explained with a shrug. âSome by their own mistaken hands. Others not so much. Such is the price for meddling in matters beyond oneâs own comprehension.â He tilted his head, a thin smile spreading on his lips. âA price that I hope we can help one another exact upon one most deserving.â
Nadia leaned against the wall. âWell, we came to hear you out, so letâs hear it.â
âVery well.â Gallo crossed the room, seated himself in the chair, tented his fingers, and began to speak. âBy now youâve heard of Gallo Tower, Iâm sure? It is named after its creatorâme. Originally, my tower was a place of artifacts and experiments, an edifice of science and sorcery where my glorious research was once synonymous with the word âprogressâ. Perhaps you may have heard of my famous Relics? The Glass Vizard, the Magic Banger, the Ars Gouda, or the legendary Randomazzo?â Despite the flair with which he said it, Gallo received only blank stares. â...No? Not a one? Argh.â He cleared his throat. âRegardless, those days are long gone. Now, Gallo Tower is merely the sty of that littleâŠpig. Consul P.â
The words dripped with such venom that Nadia couldnât help but take notice. âOof, yeah. So you got it out for P-brain, too?â
Her response seemed to please Gallo. âIndeed!â he smiled grimly. âHe is cantankerous, capricious, selfish, spoiled rotten, immature, rude, and frankly, stupid. He treats me as no more than a mere manservantâme, Iguana Gallo Valetto!â The man pounded the cover of his tome in anger, accidentally releasing a few tiny Dust Elementals that he quickly brushed away. Clearing his throat again, he continued. âRegrettably, I havenât the means to oppose him. Pâs toadies know I am much aggrieved, and I could do little by myself. But if for whatever reason your organization seeks Pâs downfall as well, I can provide all the information you needâŠto orchestrate his undoing.â
âPurr-etty temptinâ...â While she didnât want to speak for the others, Nadia thought that sounded pretty good. âWell, it couldnât hurt to tell us at this point, right? Weâre already kinda stuck together since either of us could rat the other out to P.â
Gallo nodded. âBut of course. There are just three things you need to know. One is that, while powerful, P is a simpleton. He is a woefully unfit ruler, and in fact, does not practice any ârulershipâ other than shamelessly lording about and doing whatever he pleases. He doesnât monitor the city, set up patrols, or do anything. If a problem arises, he solves it through brute force alone. This means that he knows neither who or where his enemies are, and that you can confront him directlyâŠonce you know my other two details.â
Gallo carefully opened his tome to leaf through its contents. âTwo is that he is not completely alone. He leaves all his duties to the cronies I mentioned before, the âAgarthansâ, better known as âThose Who Slither in the Dark.â They are a troublesome group, none especially remarkable alone, but if allowed to rally together in support of P by a brash attack on his person, their devious tricks might prove...rather difficult to overcome.â The scholar looked up at the Seekers. âThat is why I recommend you hunt down and take out their elites before challenging P. Without their leaders, the roaches will soon scurry back into the dark. So listen well.â Person by person, he began to spill the beans. âSolon is their Dark Bishop. He disguises himself as a cleric named Tomas, and works as a teacher in the Home of Tearsâ largest school in the western district. Kronya is their Head Assassin. She leads a double life as Monika, a red-haired mage found often in the Amusement Park. Cleobulus is their Grand Sorceress, and she moonlights as Cornelia, the glamorous gala queen of the Royal Districtâs high society, seldom far from its grandest club. In her case, I urge discretion. Finally, there is Thales.â Gallo pursed his lips. âHe is their leader, and he almost never leaves Shambhala, his headquarters. It will be difficult to dispose of him beforehand, unless you infiltrate Shambhala itself. Still, something should be done.â
âThe last thing you should understand is that P is, first and foremost, a child. He is woefully immature and prone to fits of emotion. When on the verge of defeat, he will likely flee to his sanctum to hide, which we âservantsâ masterminded in case of emergency. It is heavily safeguarded and may in fact be impregnable, but if one or two of you go there while the others fight him, you will be able to finish him the moment he arrives. And this is where it is.â Gallo offered the Seekers a diagram, and with that, he was finished.
With introductions made everyone in the newly-minted Luka Platoon could chat together over a hearty breakfast, though naturally given the dayâs events official Psych-OSF matters were never far from their minds. When Raz asked for more details about the operation, Luka was only too happy to disseminate themâsuch was his duty, as this groupâs leader. Getting the impression that this would be important, Peach laid her spoon to rest in her bowl of sugary strawberry-laden cereal. After a brief look through the cafeteriaâs red-tinted window, her attention drawn by the increasing noise of rain against the glass, she gave her squad leader her full focus.
âOf course,â Luka began as he pulled up the memo heâd received as a Vision for himself to make sure he didnât skimp out on any details. âJust to recap, Operation Scour is a joint endeavor by over two dozen Psych-OSF squads to exterminate a horde of Others that have taken up residence underground in close proximity to the city. Sasha, Camilla, Seto, Kyoka, and Morceau Platoons are all involved, so as you can see itâs a pretty big deal. In fact, this is an initiative of vital importance coming down not just from Chief Head Zanotto, but from Secretary of Defense Konoe and in all likelihood President Shinra as well, so all hands are on deck. As for the specifics, the area weâre most concerned with is the abandoned subway network that directly borders the Sector 05 and 06 undercities, Seiran and Deep-Paris. Officially, this is in response to reports of recent Other emergences there at unsustainable rate.â He gave a wry smile. âThis was announced only a couple days ago, so weâve been having to move fast, but the basic plan is to split up by platoon and sweep through the tunnels, exterminating every Other we find on the way, though platoons can support one another if need be. Weâll also have radio support from another teamâs Psych-OSF telepath, since we donât have our own yet. Some scout teams will be going down before us to help blaze a trail, and at operation start, weâll be sent down by mass Transport powers in order to catch the Others off guard and give them as little time to escape as possible. Itâll be tough, but as long as we stick and work together, we should be able to pull through.â
âThat many peopleâŠ? Wow, I feel bad for Crenshaw and whoever else.â A surprisingly simple plan for such a massive operation, but Peach remembered that she, Sakura, and Raz werenât the only ones who needed to know about it. Luckily, Raz came up with a plan to make sure that Lukaâs briefing reached the right ears. He sent the other two a private message saying that he would sneak out in order to contact the other Seekers. Peach nodded, as much to the young Psychonaut as to Luka. âRight. Good luck, and make sure youâre back in time,â she replied through Brain Talk.
Using Invisibility, Raz was able to escape the Otherlobe without raising any alarms or anything, but two odd things did happen. At one point, just after leaving the cafeteria, he suddenly bumped into something even though nothing was there. It moved when he struck him, and Raz heard a slight grunt. âWhoops, excuse me~â he heard an easygoing male voice say, although he couldnât identify the source. Nothing else came of that, but about a minute later, while making his way down a hallway, Raz passed by a particular Scarlet Guardian. Nothing about the dark-haired girl seemed particularly special compared to anyone else, but when Raz approached her, her gaze followed him despite being invisible. She looked befuddled, and continued to stare in his direction for another couple moments, but she neither said or did anything, and soon went on her way.
A few minutes more and Raz reached the street. Despite the rain, Suoh was every bit as lively -and visually busy- as it had been yesterday afternoon, if not even more so. He looked around, trying to figure out how he could get in touch with the Seekers. After some exploring he located a man in yellow and black attire, his face hidden, who caught his interest because of the familiar word inscribed on the cap he wore atop his helmet: Bridges. He remembered the name being mentioned before as that of a potential allied organization in Midgar. It was as good an option as any.
âWho am I?â the archivist asked when questioned. âI am nobody. I am but shadow, and I am but air. Yet air can carry sound, and shadows portray a looming intent. Who knows how far the winds can blow, or how long a shadow might be castâŠ?â
Despite the obfuscation, Satori the Archivist consented to âbuyingâ a bundle of data from Raz with the intent to âsellâ it elsewhere, specifically through the chiral network to the terminal just now being set up in the Seekersâ new Seiran base. Of course, that took time, and when it was done Raz needed to hurry. The time was almost nigh.
When the orange light faded away, Peach saw that, sure enough, sheâd appeared in a completely different place. Sakura, Raz, Sina, Dexio, and Luka all made it alongside her, as if the whole team simply stepped in an elevator and set foot in a new locale. In this case, her platoon had reached what looked like a flooded subway station, overgrown with roots, moss, and algae, and festooned by garbage. With the water risen to about the second level, the tops of long-abandoned trains, booth roofs, and cross-platform walkways offered ways to get around without getting wet, which would suit Peach just fine. The water smelled rank. There were also plenty of pillar supports, although some of them had collapsed at some point, and with them part of the stationâs roof. Rain showered down through the hole to patter against the surface of the water. Looking up through the opening, Peach could see skyscrapers holding up a plate. So we must be just outside Seiranâs reservoir, she realized. That would explain this flooding. For a moment she wondered if the other Seekers might be somewhere on one of those buildings, staring down at the reservoir and wondering where the infiltrators might be. Then she focused on the task at hand.
Peach and the others stood atop a second-story metal-frame platform overhang shelter, under which passengers here might have once waited for their trains to arrive. Red paint had been spattered here, presumably by the scouts, to mark out the zone the platoon would be warped to, but from here on out the team would be mostly on their own. Despite there being no enemies in sight, Luka had already hefted his heavy-looking Weight Hammer, ready to swat anything that jumped out at the team. Dexioâs weapons of choice were big, heavy blue iron cestus with flat heads like ball-peen hammers, but with three metal spikes apiece in a triangle on the fronts. Sina, meanwhile, wielded a Refrigerant Coil on her right forearm, which in conjunction with her Cryokinesis essentially let her use her arm as a cannon. Before anyone could use their equipment, however, they needed to cross the flooded station, and Luka had a suggestion.
âLetâs all use my Teleportation to get over there,â the team leader suggested, pointing out a dark tunnel on the far side. âOnce you activate it, you just need to âdashâ to where you want to go and the power will kick in. But please be very careful whenever you use it. You must teleport to completely unoccupied space.â
Peachâs eyes widened. âOh dear, could we teleport inside something?â
âYes,â he replied, his tone tentative. âBut the main issue is, since two things canât exist in the same place at the same time, teleporting inside something will cause a reaction comparable toâŠwell, a nuclear explosion.â
âIâm not going to teleport,â Peach decided that instant. Instead she jumped, double jumped, and floated to her destination with her parasol. Luka followed her in a blink, and after a moment of mental preparation both Dexio and Sina did the same without incident. Once everyone was together, they proceeded into the tunnel.
After going a short way, Luka called the teamâs attention to something. âWeâre on the right track. Look.â He pointed out a cluster of red plants growing from an island of dirty in the water next to the subway tracks, which Peach saw grew thicker the further the tunnel went. âThese pinecone flowers grow in places inhabited by others,â Luka explained. âBrace yourselves for a fight.
Sure enough, after balancing along the tracks or splashing through the water beside them for just another minute, the Scarlet Guardians reached an open area where the gray light of an overcast day, together with the rain, poured through cracks in the ceiling down to fall upon a bunch of Others. The seven Kitchen Rummies, crowned by umbrellas and coral, more or less resembled the Rummies seen before but sparkled with electricity. However, the three Rat Ruts were completely new, featuring thick metal shells that protected a squishy papaya interior, all atop a rotating eel wheel. One other strange organism rolled around the tunnel, a one-wheeled, baby-faced bruiser whose slow-charging lightbulb could emit a paralyzing flash: an Exonerator.
Lukaâs eyes narrowed, and he reached out to the others through Brain Talk. âRuts attack predictably, but they hit like trucks, and their shells take a lot of punishment, so focus on blunt force. Theyâll also shoot bolts of oil at you from those spouts on top.â He looked between the different Others, then at the terrain. âWeâre lucky these Others donât have much synergy, but donât stand in water where those Rummies can zap you. Letâs take them out.â
He teleported forward to set the example, and with her Scatterboom in hand Peach ran in behind him. Though faced with new and unknown opponents, she went to battle with a smile on her face. Maybe it was just her new spirit fusion, or maybe Nadia had rubbed off on her during their time in the Deep Blue Seaside, but she was feeling fired up and ready to show her worth.
Together the gang of Seekers made their way from clustered midtown toward the junkyard outskirts of the Slums, fast enough to make decent progress but not so speedy as to make a scene. Everyone needed to keep their eyes out for anything that could be of use on their quest to range beyond the city limits, after all. With this undercity decently populated but not jam-packed, its buildings seldom more than a couple stories high, and its dirt roads given over to foot traffic ninety-nine percent of the time, just about everywhere was quite well-lit and wide open. Tora and Poppi ended up feeling less on-edge than in Detroit, and despite her misgivings about the area Susie could breathe easy metaphorically speaking, especially with her eager bodyguard Pit on the case. Still, she ended up suggesting that the team assault whoever might be buying from the salvagers here, which left Poppi confused.
âIâm not sure how nefarious any hypothetical buyers would be,â she reasoned. âThere could be any number of mundane reasons for wanting machine parts. Stripping out precious metals from semiconductors, melting down metal plating for construction material, or recycling circuitry for use in everyday electronics, just to name a few. If wars with the Machines are as commonplace as they seem, the salvage from battles against them are probably a major source of pre-processed resources for the city.â She tilted her head, thinking. âIf we think of this place as one massive ecosystem, the people in the Slums are probably the decomposers, like earthworms and termites. A humble but vital part of the environment. And the results of their hard work simply goes on to feed the plants.â She smiled, pleased with her analogy. âIndustrial plants, in this case.â
Zenkichi and Pit were both on board with the general plan of hunting down the Machines before they could encroach on the undercities, but the latter wondered why people wouldnât just take care of things if they could figure out where the mechanical menace might originate from. âPeople here probably lack means to fight robopons,â Tora ventured a guess. âMaybe it even too much for DespoRHado to mount all-out assault, meh.â
âThatâs my guess,â Giovanna chimed in. âThe Machines are a relentless enemy, and they operate with brutal efficiency. Their factories are probably deathtraps, defended by devious anti-human traps and the deadliest units in their entire arsenal. Just fumigating their facilities with toxic gas would be enough to make an invasion nigh-impossible.â She shrugged. âMaybe theyâd have enough raw manpower if Psych-OSF joined in, but as-is an assault on the source of the Machine threat is probably just a bad value proposition. Too much risk. So itâs a war of attrition until they finally build up enough firepower, trying to stockpile faster than the Machines can wear them down.â
At about that time, the group neared a sturdy-looking merchant with a nice hat, standing on a soapbox to make sure his voice was heard. Heâd already attracted some attention from the locals, and both Tora and Poppi gave him a listen as they passed by. It sounded like he wanted to get some people together to try and improve the living conditions around here. The Slums werenât exactly a trash heap -poor as they might be, nobody wanted to live in squalor- but things could definitely be a lot better. Still, it seemed like a monumental task, and despite his good intentions this strident fellow was just one man.
Pit took an interest in him, and mentioned that he might be able to help them in some way. Giovanna, however, couldnât be sure. âSalvagers arenât exactly service workers. Their business is breaking things down, not building them up.â She raised an eyebrow in Partitioâs direction. âThis guyâs more concerned with urban planners, civil engineers, and tradesmen. He might be able to get some work done by recruiting random civilians, but heâd need to pay them better than whatever their current work does.â The secret agent sighed lightly. âMoneyâs what gets things done. Thatâs true whether youâre up on a plate, or down here in their shadows.â
Still, it was worth a shot. Tora waddled up to the small crowd around Partitio, waving his wings. âHello!â he called, trying to think of a way to explain his situation without causing widespread panic by mentioning a possible Machine invasion. âTora and friends trying to help people down here too, meh. Found way to keep them safe out in valley ruins, in fact. It very dangerous, so we wonder if you know way to cover ground fast outside city?â Unfortunately, Partitio happened to be new in Sector 07 himself, and even less in the know than the Seekers. Still, Tora might have managed to pique the merchantâs interest.
The heroes kept moving. They checked in at whatever public buildings they could for any rough and tough, rugged-looking salvage crews. Tora led the way, more animated and gung-ho than usual. He couldnât deny that the mention of âsalvageâ ignited a faint hope in his heart; there was someone who specialized in such a trade that he really, really wanted to see. After some asking around in public places like Whirling-In-Rags, he and Poppi learned of the existence of a depot connected to Scrap Boulevard, through which its vehicles reached the outside world, as well as a little history about the industry. Apparently the salvage crews used to operate as small, tight-knit, independent units, but that led to competition as well as vulnerability to Machine attacks. More recently though, theyâd been united into the Sector 07 Salvage Corps under the direction of an engineer named Isaac Clark, who was skilled and dependable despite suffering from acute PTSD from previous experiences. With high-power tools to defend themselves, the salvagers could afford to be a little more daring in their operations, driving out into dangerous areas to secure the best loot. They reported the pertinent information to Giovanna, and soon the team was on their way.
They headed for Scrap Boulevard, stopping only to gawk at a big, fluffy creature as it flew majestically overhead, perhaps keeping watch over the people of the slums. A couple minutes away from their destination, with the orange paint and flood lights of the Salvage Depot in sight, the team passed by a two-story stone apartment complex called Stargazer Heights. Out front stood a trio that Tora recognized: Marshall, Big Bo, and Cain, the Rust Crew they ran into yesterday afternoon while exploring Detroit. âOh!â Poppi exclaimed upon noticing them. âWe saw those men yesterday. They said they were looking for a special kind of Machine called a Hollow Child, who was attempting to escape with some sensitive data.â She glanced at Zenkichi. âThat sounds like the target you were after. Right, Masterpon?â
Tora didnât answer for a moment. Heâd been momentarily distracted by the sight of a gorgeous black-haired woman heading out from Stargazer Heights with a moody-looking blonde mercenary. The young lady was saying something about the Neighborhood Watch and the Beginnerâs Hall, and the two went in the direction of a crude building also near the entrance to Scrap Boulevard. Only when Poppi nudged him did he stir. âMehmeh? What is it? Tora lost in thoughtâŠuh, sightseeing.â
âUgggh.â Poppi turned her attention back to Zenkichi. âAnyway, we could speak with them. Obviously they didnât catch the Hollow Child either, but maybe they know something, or could still help us.â
Giovanna nodded. âSounds like a plan. Iâll go ahead to the Salvage Depot to see if we can arrange something. If weâre lucky theyâll be looking for extra help today. Might even be able to score a truck.â Team members could join her, stay to investigate the Rust Crew, or pursue other leads as they prepared to leave Midgar behind.
Midna wasnât the only one who busied herself in the new hideout well before the Bridges personnel were set to arrive. Once the Twilight Princess set up the portal, Goldlewis bravely volunteered to help test it, and after calling Jessica back at base via phone glyph to confirm that a random piece of junk sent through appeared on the other side, he returned to headquarters to have a quick word with Vernon. When he returned, Goldlewis brought with him some supplies, including a box of rolled-up trash bags. After that, he began the daunting task of cleaning up this place. Whether decorated veteran or secretary of defense, nobody was above tidying up. While Midna practiced necromancy on one of the operating tables, which did not bear thorough examination, Goldlewis steadfastly picked up around and swept up the new hideout. He disposed of everything left behind or otherwise dumped here since its abandonment, amassing a pile of white trash bags by the door. Then, with paper towels, cleaning spray, wet wipes, and a whole lot of elbow grease, he worked to make the place not just clean, but liveable.
Dust, cobwebs, stains, smears, and more fell before him like wheat to the scythe. Goldlewis made quick and efficient work of this task, a well-practiced routine honed during a lifetime of living alone as a rather fastidious and particular fellow. He ran into only one setback upon the completion of Midnaâs unholy project, when her newly-revived creation left a hole in the ceiling that showered down powdery slivers on its armor. Considering that the roof in here was high enough for a man of his stature to stand comfortably, Goldlewis was impressed, although that wasnât going to stop him pounding this failed experiment into scrap metal with his nearby coffin. Luckily for her, Midna hurried to convince him that it was an accident and that she had the dark knight totally under her control and that he wouldnât be engaging in any more destruction. Goldlewis shot her a dubious look, as the dark arts distinctly struck him as something to avoid dabbling in just in general, but he left the juggernaut uncrumpled. Midna made plans to leave soon after, and Goldlewis helped shoo her out the door and on her way. For better or worse, he did seem to be a control freak about his space.
Not long after, the team from Bridges came knocking at the hideout door. Wearing light, loose-fitting gray protective suits and balaclavas, the builders came equipped with satchels, backpacks, and plenty of tools. Their foreman also wore an odd metal necklace, with several shiny rectangular segments. âHowdy,â he said, reaching out his hand. âDie-Hardman said yâall might need a hand gettinâ situated. Weâre here to help.â
Goldlewis clasped the foremanâs hand warmly, linked via instantaneous kinship to his fellow southerner. âWeâre much obliged to ya. Iâd be happy to give yâall a hand while youâre here, too.â
First order of business was to get a Chiral Network node installed, which Goldlewis decided to have installed in the more techy, blue-lit part of the hideout. Once erected and attached to the buildingâs power grid, which took remarkable little time, the node terminal was connected to the network via the foremanâs necklace, which he referred to as a Q-pid. The physics equations engraved on its tags as it floated above the device contained all of the necessary security and operations protocols to integrate the terminal, and when it finished scanning the node came to life, displaying a holographic screen. âAll hooked up!â the foreman declared, patting his palms. âRight, what else ya want? Now that weâre connected and able to transfer buildinâ materials, we can rustle up just about anythinâ ya might need. Beds, for one. I figure yâainât sleepinâ on them operatinâ tables.â
âNo way.â Goldlewis balked at the suggestion, imagining what Midna might do if she began to see everyone as test subjects. He quickly tried to take stock of everyone whoâd need a place to sleep here, and where to put them. âHmm. Well, I reckon your standard military cots would be fine,â he said, too busy wondering who needed sleep and who -like Blazermate- did not consider that people like Karin might want something nicer. Though he did wonder if she might like better training equipment than the empty spot she was currently using. Obviously it would be nicer to have the beds in the more natural yellow-lit side of the hideout, and there were two former supply rooms heâd cleaned out that might fit the bill. âLetâs do eight of âem, extra large. Four in each room, hereâŠand here. I assume you can stack âem like bunk beds?â They could, so Goldlewis gave a nod of approval. His nose wrinkled slightly, though, and the lingering smells in the supply rooms. âCould use some air freshener. Fans too. And this main area oughta be the kitchen, so letâs get a table and some chairs made up. And thenâŠâ
With Goldlewis at the helm, the renovation team got busy. Any other Seekers who remained in the hideout could help direct their efforts too, however, to outfit their new residence as they liked.
Few dedicated methods of reaching the reservoir from Seiran existed. People did not want, and indeed had no reason, to go down, and they didnât want anything that might be down there to get up. For those with enough commitment, however, there were still plenty of ways to make that undesirable journey. Descenders could climb down the girders and cross-beams of tall support structures, slowly make their way through skyscraper interiors in search of stairs, or maybe get lucky enough to find a private winch-lift they could acquire the use of. In reality, most would end up braving a gauntlet of bridges, platforms, and ladders extending from or stuck to the exteriors of the buildings, many of shoddy workmanship and dubious stability. No doubt it would be much harder going back up. And after all that effort, what would an intrepid explorer find? A feculent, polluted lake of stagnation and decay.
The water, if it could be called that, was primarily brown in color and nearly opaque. Nobody could see more than a foot or two into it even where there werenât giant red and green algal blooms blanketing the reservoirâs surface, and those thick mats of toxic cyanobacterial scum looked solid enough to walk on. Even more plentiful was the trash. Large garbage patches could be found all over the reservoir, not just clustered around the rocky âshoresâ around the bases of the skyscrapers, but free-floating in massive streaks of rubbish. People couldnât be stopped when it came to throwing their trash away even in the best of times, and the idea that polluting the reservoir would help speed up the extinction of psifish probably didnât help. No doubt plenty of sewage and industrial waste made its way here, too.
Still, there were living things here, sick and sorry as they might be. Midgar was home to plenty of people who lived in poverty; the existence of an entire undercity referred to as the Slums was proof enough. The same could not be said of this place. There was no community here, nor were there people to form one, only degenerate creatures supplemented with the odd castaway. Ghoulish wretches and feral troglodytes roamed the unwholesome islands and prowled the lumber walkways that floated on tires and other refuse, happy to attack any potential meals on sight. Sometimes the furtive movement of freakish crustaceans could be spotted, stealthily preying on the unwary. Giant parasites clung to the walls and outcroppings out of the crawlersâ reach. There was a shoggoth just sitting out there in the open, looking wistful in an eldritch sort of way.
Most interesting were the strange, luminescent, vaguely aquatic creatures that Midna realized must be the psi-fish. They floated on or just above the reservoirâs surface, pulsing with blue or pink light. Some looked like jellyfish or perhaps paper lanterns, flickering like will-o-wisps, and some looked more like ghosts that drifted around in small packs. A couple seemed more purposeful, as if on the hunt, but all of them moved and shone in a lugubrious, sickly manner. Long ago theirs might have been a captivatingly beautiful but deadly display, but today all over the reservoir they blinked weakly, a faltering and pitiful parade.
Aside from that, there just wasnât much here. Just garbage, piscine horrors, and whatever foul things might flourish in such an environment as this. Midna might have a hard time even finding anyone to talk to. Her best chances lay in the few hovels and shelters sequestered in spots that the more bestial creatures here would have a hard time reaching. It wasnât just monsters down here, she knew, so those must be the âhomesâ of lepers and lunatics cast down to die in this blighted nightmare where none of them might rise to trouble the ordinary world again.
With her visit to Seamâs âseapâ concluded, Nadia returned to Habbo Hotel, and when she arrived she was happy to see the downstairs lobby teeming with friends both new and old. Sure enough, the contingent that she and the others managed to leave behind in the Ruins had forged their own path to the City of Tears, and no doubt they found their way here specifically thanks to the hint Nadia left with Undyne and the mermaid guard. From the looks of it sheâd arrived mere moments after the Koopa Troop and Sectonia returned from an outing of their own, so the feral joined them in the lobby.
âMorninâ!â she greeted them, her sunny disposition all the brighter juxtaposed to the underground cityâs perennial rainfall. No matter how many hells Nadia got dragged through, one could always count on her to have a smile on her face. âNice of ya to join us! I was hopinâ my little hint would help ya find us if you were in the area.â She spread her hands out and looked from side to side around the hotelâs bottom floor, giving the Troop a good look at her fancy orange bathrobe. âIsnât this cool? Iâve never seen such a âlodgeâ hotel in my life. Itâs inn-sane! And I managed to get a big room all to myself on the top floor. Pretty âsuiteâ, right? Makes me feel like some kinda purr-incess!â The royals found themselves subjected to a brutal barrage of hotel-related puns. Of course, compared to actual premium hotels Habbo seemed more focused on quantity than quality, but Nadia didnât know any better.
After saying hi to the Koopa Troop and Sectonia she kept moving, making sure to check in on everyone. Rubick she didnât know too well, but she could tell that his outfit changed somewhat. âOoh, what a menacing look. A mage-er improvement!â she grinned at him. While it seemed like the Adventurer didnât make it here, Bowserâs bunch did pick up a new member, and Nadia loved him the moment she laid eyes on him. âHoly frijoles, youâre the cutest little guy Iâve ever seen!â the feral cooed, crouching down to pet Teemo on the head. âWelcome to the party. I hope youâre ready âfurâ an adventure!â She also patted the Knight on top of its helmet, and though its milk-white facade betrayed no emotion, it followed her around afterward. Next she stopped by the Octopath Travelers, whoâd been catching up together. She only wrinkled her sensitive nose as the faint traces of the Rancid Egg a little. âHiya! Lookinâ good, Primrose! And TherionâŠâ Nadia squinted, her brows furrowed together in confusion. âWere you always this pequeñoâŠ? I mean, itâs cool. Iâd never dare to think âlittleâ of you!â Giggling, she hurried on her way.
While looking around for her next pun victim, Nadia spotted something weird. It floated near Omori like a balloon or a kite, but it looked way spookier than any toy. Something about it left the feralâs mouth dry, and she couldnât help but swallow nervously. Leaving Omori to his own devices, she greeted Jesse next, out of puns for the time being. â...Good morning!â
Ganondorf showed up a moment later, and with a new haircut, so Nadia gave him a wave. âI like your âcut, G!â But she ended up heading over to Ichiban like Primrose did before. âOh hey, itâs you!â she said to him, grinning. âThanks again for last night. Really, uh, saved our bacon.â As an expert when it came to lining her own pockets, she hadnât failed to notice the man saving bacon in a more literal sense. She didnât judge him for it of course, since sheâd done the same on many occasions, but it sort of took her by surprise. Wouldnât the lint-seasoned sludge he extracted later be too gross for the tastes of a man in a suit? She dropped her voice a couple notches as she leaned on the table next to him. â...From one opportunist to another, yâmight be better off with those liâl plastic vats fulla yogurt. Better than pocket eggs, take it from me!â
Once everyone got settled, the general conversation turned toward a singular topic: what to do today. In general the Seekersâ current goal was to obtain enough mask fragments to recreate the three whole masks that would unseal the Black Egg, and theyâd already managed to gather an impressive third of the total amount, but the discoveries made by both teams about the Home of Tears precipitated another important matter: the involvement of the Consuls. The report from the team that came via Ash Lake about the Flame Clocks, and by extension the very nature of the World of Light, left Nadia agape. âWellâŠâ she murmured as she tried to take the revelation in. âThat explains a lot.â So this âlifelightâ made people all over the world dependent not just on the Clocks, but on continuous combat, and those who didnât fight for it probably relied on others to sustain them. That sort of explained why gleaming people fought so relentlessly when aggravated, but in the end the news just left Nadia with more questions that couldnât be answered.
Regardless, everyone more or less came to the same conclusion, if they hadnât already from Rush Hour in the Nyakuza Metro and the disastrous elevator ride down into the Chasm: the Consuls needed to go. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that one of not both of the Consuls who seemed to preside over the Under would show up to cause more problems later, and one apparently lived in the Home of Tears anyway, so the sooner he was dealt with, the better. âSo, Consul P. He lives in Gallo Tower up in the Royal Quarter, that giant buildinâ with the clock. Oh, that reminds me!â She pulled the letter sheâd gotten from Berg from her pouch and laid it down on a coffee table. âI guess when you guys got in last night, someone in Gallo Tower spotted ya. But he let ya go without sayinâ anythinâ. Cornifer and Asgore made P-brain sound like a real dick. If the people here ainât fond of him, maybe this IGV guyâs an insider who wants to overthrow âem.â
A handful of other Seekers agreed that it was worth checking out, at least. From the letter it sounded like the Soul Sanctum would be dangerous, so sending a small team to pay it a visit might be a good idea, but any others had a lead they could pursue them, as well. That piscine guard captain came to mind, for instance; in a city ostensibly run by an evil overlord, she seemed rather good-natured and good-intentioned for an authority figure. Nadia invited Ichiban along, mentioning that her teamâs adventures were a good way to make money. No matter where they went, though, the heroes needed to get a move on. Time wasnât on their side.
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Each of the cityâs four districts had its own distinct style, and among them -barring the wacky whimsy of the Amusement Park- the Collection struck Nadia as the most interesting. Rather than a roughly fan-shaped stretch of solid ground it took the form of numerous disjointed islands, broken up by disorganized canals and connected by bridges. More giant paper boats like the one that brought Nadiaâs crew in from the Womb last night meandered through the Collection in a constant, self-propelled circuit, providing a predictable and consistent way to get around. On closer inspection, the islands and buildings themselves were made of books, with trees of paper and pencil-shaped streetlights. Even stranger were the giant, ephemeral letters that floated in the air overhead like an odd, literary smog, with all sorts of words constantly forming and unforming. As Nadia watched, three letters floated above her head to form the word âcatâ, which she dispersed with a wave of her hands.
However, despite its bookish appearance, the Collection harbored a dedicated mercantile focus, with countless waterfront markets and stores situated against a backdrop of industrial facilities, like a cannery, a printer, a refinery, a foundry, and other factories. Scattered throughout were a number of the Home of Tearsâ iconic towers, tall, black, and cylindrical with shell-shaped blue glass windows. Only one of those towersâ windows gave off a ghostly white glow, and Nadia headed there. When she arrived, she found the Soul Sanctum seemingly abandoned, its only entrance cordoned off, but the bulwark built over its front entrance lay unbarred and ajar. Within, the whispery darkness seemed to beckon. âGuess IGV already went inside,â she muttered, assuming that it would take more than some random miscreant to unseal this ill-omened doorway. As a precaution Nadia pulled one of her new grips from her belt, then inserted it into the casing to attach a blade. Giant box cutter in hand, she stepped toward the door. âIâll take point again, and make sure anythinâ waitinâ to ambush us gets the âpointâ too, soâŠdonât mind if I do.â
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Nadia was the first to set foot within the eerie place, disturbing the silence with the creak of the door. She found herself inside a grim facility, somewhere between a grand library, complete with columns, and a hospital, but rather than dusty volumes its shelves were packed with samples, tablets, tinctures, and instruments, laden with indecipherable text inscribed on paper and stone. Much of it was discarded, piled high with frustrated impunity. Dubious stains and maddened scrawls covered walls and furniture alike beneath frayed, hanging curtains, all bathed in the soft glow of white lumafly lamps, and shrouded in drifting motes of dust. Plenty of empty chairs, and a few still occupied with the empty husks of former scholars, could be found, but Nadiaâs keen eyes spotted no enemies. The echoes in this place never seemed to fade away completely; instead a slight noise remained, like distant whispers, and the feral swore she could hear the faint music of an organ a long way off. She inhaled deeply and moved in, on the hunt for stairs. Their contact awaited at the very top of this place, and according to his letter, there would be âwretched thingsâ on the way.
After reaching the third floor, the Seekers found them. As they moved through what looked more and more like a creepy research laboratory, the whispers had grown almost imperceptibly louder, and with them came a sort of scratching. Moving silently, Nadia tried to pinpoint the source, but it seemed to be coming from the walls. Finally, as the team approached the stairs, something came. Some things. Shapeless, wriggling, they oozed from the faucets and bubbled up from the drains. Others squeezed out of vents and cupboards, floating through the air like balloons. All made a beeline for the nearest Seekers, gasping and hungry for them. For their souls.
âYeesh.â Nadia cleaved through a hovering Folly with her box cutter and popped it like a bubble, then clawed away at sluggish Mistake and watched it ooze into the floor. In just a few moments, a couple more rose to take their place. It wouldnât do the Seekers any good to linger here, so they kept climbing, fending off the bodiless, soul-starved apparitions as they went. The higher they climbed, however, the more they found. Soon, they stumbled upon the Soul Sanctumâs former patients, pale gangly creatures in hospital gowns, their heads bound in swollen, bulbous bags and their bodies in restraining belts and straps, some to the extent that they could only locomote by wriggling along the ground like horrific inchworms. âYouâve gotta be kitten me.â Nadia quickly found that these were much more violent -and strong- than the Mistakes and Follies that preceded them. Some assaulted her with metal IV stands, and a few sprouted tentacles from their sacks to grasp and pierce. Their brutish attacks forced her to take them much more seriously, and after taking a few heavy blows she resorted to overwhelming them with pressure and comboing them to death whenever she could get one alone, and running when she could not.
At one point, having fled from a pair of patients, she rounded a corner at the top of a flight of stairs and found herself faced by a fearsome monstrosity of white fur on ten pawed legs, its face an empty hole dripping tar-like fluid. Her hair rose and her tail went rigid at the sight of the amalagamate horror blocking the way, just one of many that could be encountered from here on out, and with a fang-toothed grin Nadia white-knuckle gripped both box cutters. âDown, boy,â she snarked. âI like dogs, but if youâre gonna bark up the wrong tree, Iâll teach ya to play dead.â
Endogeny just tilted its head, its orifice watching her intently. It smelled like a bunch of dogs. Freaky and dangerous as it looked, the abominationâs body language displayed no overt hostility as far as Nadia could see. âHmm.â She relaxed her sword arm a little to see if it would provoke a reaction, and noted how the monsterâs gaze followed her weapon. âHuh. Ya want this? âŠFetch?â Unbelievable as that sounded, the amalgamate convulsed excitedly at the word. Am I really gonna do this? Nadia could hear the cries of the patients in the distance, growing closer. She lifted her box cutter to hurl down a dead-end corridor. Here goes nothing.
In the heat of the moment, Frisk chose to act at a dangerous time. Albedoâs frantic efforts to stop Nightingale discharging his firearms had already resulted in spilled blood, and the former child wasnât going to let her friend lose any more, no matter the cost. As Nightingale went for his handgun, keen to finish off what he started lest the alchemistâs Cinnabar Spindle spell his own end, Frisk seized his shotgun and took aim. Experience and training meant little in a situation like this; the business end of that barrel was a deadly guarantee the moment she leveled it at him. She had him dead to rights, and though heâd managed to lay hands on his pistol, he knew heâd already lost. He loosened his grip on it as he went to hold up his hands. âWait-!â
Frisk didnât wait. Sheâd grabbed the shotgun with only one course of action in mind, her decision made in an instant and without hesitation, irrespective of the consequences. The shotgunâs blast resounded through the derelict supermarket once more, close enough to Albedo and especially Frisk to be deafening, and it kicked like a mule. In fact, it was the strength of the weaponâs recoil that made a crucial difference. It flew from Friskâs inexpert grasp, deviated just enough that the shot wasnât fatal. Still, it might have been better if it were. Nightingale hit the ground with a howl of pain, an awful wound punched into the flesh and bone of his left side. Writhing in agony and with a face contorted by pain, he kept up a hideous uproar as he tried in vain to staunch the bleeding. He wasnât dead, but he was dying, and it would be neither a quick nor merciful end.
A moment later, Redâs new gun unleashed its luminous pink rays, but before the four meant for Nightingale could strike him the yellow flashes of a dancing blade intercepted them.
Breathing heavily, Albedo relaxed his sword arm, then limped over. He reached out his swordâs point and slid the handgun across the floor away from Nightingale, then approached the man himself. His features, cool and impassive despite the injury heâd endured from that shotgun as well, betrayed none of his intentions, but any onlooker could guess well enough. Or maybe not. After stopping at Nightingaleâs side, Albedo dismissed his sword, and tapped his chest to produce a friend heart in the manner Linkle taught him. He dropped it on the dying man and took away his pain, restoring him to his original state in an instant. Glistening with sweat and wide-eyed from shock, the former FBI agent stared up at Albedo in bewilderment, the question of why he would not just spare him but heal him written clearly on his face.
âPlease donât come after us again,â Albedo told him evenly. âIâd rather not hurt people.â
Nightingale glanced at his guns where they fell, but only for a brief moment. His face betrayed a mixture of gratitude and shame as he gingerly stood to his feet, then turned and clumsily ran, stumbling out of the shattered storefront and off into Edinburghâs streets in search of a bar. Whoever these people were, theirs were not the faces that tormented him in his nightmares. He remembered now that there were far greater and more terrifying things out there, and compared to them the orders of Chief Irons mattered as much as dust in the wind.
Rather than watch Nightingale go, Albedo glanced at Frisk, his expression cloudy. Though glad that she interfered to protect him, he couldnât say he liked her willingness to take a life when the threat might have been enough. With the othersâ fights still in progress he couldnât spend a lot of time on this, but he managed to say one thing as he took his sword in hand again before turning his attention elsewhere. âCommon though they may be, I find that human lives are more valuable than either gold or silver, and all the more pitifully wasted.â
Meanwhile, the fight between Big Band and Stryker had taken to the street outside. Super-Sonic Jazz ended with a backflip spin as the giant french horn stowed away, launching the cruel cop high into the air. Rather than try and follow up, though, Band elected to stack the odds even further. He deployed his bagpipes and played a quick tune in the moment afforded to him, just enough to activate Bagpipe Blues. Stryker regained his feet, still able and happy to fight. He was red with anger from the wounds inflicted on his pride, especially thanks to what looked like a taunt, and he moved in with his baton at the ready to tear Big Band a new one. He rained down a brutal series of combination blows with punches, kicks, and strikes from his weapons, mixing up low and high attacks to catch Band off guard. The pressure was on, and Stryker managed to land a few hits, but his opponent toughed it out while biding his time.
Then he struck back, using the armor from Bagpipe Blues to shrug off an overhead baton slam from Stryker and wallop him with a massive Air Mail Special, leading right into combo. He jumped up after the launched policeman and struck with Bass Blast sound jets from the keys on his side, then a dropkick that bounced Stryker off the wall on the far side of the street. He landed on his back but bounced to his feet again in a burst of sound in time to catch Stryker low with his Glissando double trombone thrust. The next moment the cop found himself caught in the pincer of Bandâs giant tambourine, jingled violently back and forth as the detective extended the beat. Suspended by Bandâs Sound Stun, Stryker couldnât escape as his foe jumped up to deliver an airborne Jelly Roll tambourine spin, and the good times kept on rolling from there. Band brought his enemy up, down, and up again in an instrumental assault of clarinet thrusts, trombone blows, and even the ring-a-ling of a musical triangle.
At one point Stryker thought the combo came to an end, only to immediately fall prey to a devious reset, and the train got rolling once again. The one-sided beatdown finally came to an end when Band deployed a ring of drum rockets around him, mechanical arms tipped with mallets extended to lay down the law. âTympanyâŠDrive!â He hammered both Stryker and the drums, which released blasts of sound downward with every beat to propel both officers higher and higher into the air. Just when Stryker seemed about to slip free, Band finished his performance by snapping shut the halves of a giant brass bell on his foe directly beneath him. âConsider yourself tolled!â With that, he smashed down two enormous ringers hard enough to crack the bell. People for miles could hear the clamor of his Death Toll, but nobody quite so acutely as Stryker.
After the two fell to earth, the cop somehow managed to get up again, but he clearly wasnât all there. He teetered back and forth woozily, barely able to stand. While Band knew he could do just about anything he might want at this point, he settled for a singular honk from a tiny horn in Strykerâs face, and the man dropped like a sack of flour, unconscious. âHuh.â The detective shook his head, almost disappointed with how easy that turned out to be. âSqueezed âem like a tuba toothpaste. Guess we were just playinâ different games.â With the face-off concluded, he regrouped with Albedo, Red, Ace, Frisk, and Lucia, whoâd been hiding with Sienna in the back both to hide the fact that sheâd defected from the police force and as a last line of defense. Ace had disposed of the robots, and there was no sign of Nightingale. âLetâs get movinâ before reinforcements show up,â Band told the team. âChances are they know where we are.â
Albedo nodded, taking point along with Lucia. Using his alchemy and some medicinal plants kept in his Inventory, heâd managed to treat his leg well enough to move. âThe hideout isnât too far.â
Party: Big Band, Ace Cadet, Wonder Red, Frisk Encounter Reward: +10 EXP Didnât Miss a Beat Bonus: Big Band, Ace Cadet, Wonder Red Didnât Miss a Beat Reward: +5 EXP
From the word âhideoutâ Band half-expected some dark, secluded hole in the wall so mean and small that nobody in their right mind would look there, but that turned out not to be the case. In fact, Albedo and Frisk had managed to procure rather pleasant accommodations since arriving in Edinburgh. Overlooking one of the frigid cityâs many canals stood a restaurant called Grammeowsterâs Kitchen, where a kindly old cat and her cohort of friendly felynes worked to supply her customers with warm food, a cozy atmosphere, and all the comforts of home. It was neither the biggest or busiest hole in the wall, but both its owner and her home-cooking were beloved fixtures of the local community that stood the test of time. In exchange for a little help from Albedo and Frisk during the evenings, as well as the handy bonus of ingredients synthesized via alchemy, Grammeowster allowed the two to stay in her own abode on the second (and third) floors. Left empty except for her ever since her own children went off to start their own families long ago, it had been an empty nest that Grammeowster seemed happy to have occupied once more, and she didnât mind her guests bringing friends, either. Everyone could pile inside as sirens blared in the distance, head through the restaurant, and climb up to the spacious room to rest.
âOof.â After laying Sienna down on the bed, Band let out a deep breath as he seated himself by the fireplace, not trusting the carpentry of what were practically antique couches and stools to hold his weight. What an afternoon it had been. With the sole exception of the All Round Spheal Show, it had been nothing but trouble the minute he, Red, and Ace set foot here. Running afoul of the EMPDâs deplorable head honcho had been bad enough to begin with, and despite the clear victory over Ironsâ pursuit squad back at the supermarket, Band knew that his troubles with Edinburghâs finest were far from over. Then there had been the whole matter with that six-winged demon in the Noumenon library, which literally happened out of the blue. Their only possible answers about that lay with Sienna, but she had yet to awaken. It would be a little bit longer before they came to light, and a lot longer before his conclusions about the Skullgirl did. Rather than state outright his intentions to kill the girl that had been Albedo and Friskâs friend, Band figured heâd let them see for themselves come nightfall. Before anything else regarding the Consuls, he needed to find this Linkle and put her down. The Skullgirl was a walking calamity, her very existence a countdown to the end of the world, and come what may Band couldnât allow her to go free.
Until then, at least, he and the others could try to relax. It was about five oâclock, with a couple hours until dark, during which time they shouldnât go out in public again. Tantalizing smells already wafted up from Grammeowsterâs Kitchen downstairs, her mouth-watering roasts and stews drawing customers from far and wide. She and her felyne helpers would probably need a hand down there, but given his sheer size alone Band wasnât suited to such work. He waited until Sienna finally stirred, trying not to loom over for her as she blinked awake, holding her head.
âEasy, now,â he told her, his voice soft. âWeâre in a safe place. You okay?â
Sienna scooted backward, propping herself up against the pillows and backboard. âIâŠI think so.â
âGood.â Band hesitated for a moment. âI donât mean to grill you right off the bat, butâŠwe pulled you outta some demon-lookinâ thing that attacked us in the library. Nearly wiped us out before Ace turned the tables. Donât suppose you could tell us what happened? Anythinâ you remember?â
The girl narrowed her eyes, her brows scrunched together. âIâŠwell, Iâm not sure exactly what happened. I was driving along with the Spheals, heading back to base. I think I glanced back to make sure everyone was okay, and when I looked at the road again, there was a man standing right in front of me. I hit the breaks, of course, and managed to stop before hitting him. Nearly gave me a heart attack.â She took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair. âIâd never seen him before in person, but I realized who it was âcause of his armor. It was Consul N. I was confused, of course. When he came around I rolled down the window, apologizing like crazy for almost hitting him. He didnât seem mad, butâŠhe was acting kind of funny. He started asking me about you guys, and where you were.â
Her face took on an apologetic look. âUmâŠIâm sorry, but youâre supposed to do what a Consul says, so I told him what I heard from you guys about going to the library. I asked him what he wanted with you, but he didnât really answer. Just started muttering to himself. Then all of a sudden he asks for my help, and, yâknow, I said âsureâ. He goes âI always wanted to try thisâ and reached in and grabbed me! He pulled me right out the window, slammed me against the car, andâŠI-Iâm not sure what he did, but it hurt really bad, andâŠI blacked out.â She seemed scared and angry at the same time. âW-what the hell was all that?â
Band shook his head. âSorry, I got no idea. Some kind oâ magic, or mad science, or somethinâ. This guy musta been tryinâ to use you to get at us.â He sighed, hanging his head. âIâm awful sorry you got caught up in all this. Itâs not your fault. These Consuls are real scumbags, and now it sounds like weâre dealinâ with two of âem.â At least it didnât seem like N cared enough to be any more thorough with his little gambit. But if he could and would do something like that to an innocent person, things in Edinburgh were only going to get even more complicated from here on out.
Given wings by her panic, Imogenâs flight brought her to the far side of the island lickety-split. Her shoes pounded the sand only a little less hard than her heart pounded in her chest. No matter how little she knew or understood about her current situation, she knew one thing with every fiber of her being: that she wasnât going to be eaten by that monstrosity. Even if her real body lay on the brink of death, whether in a hospital bed or on the silty seabed, and none of her actions here mattered one way or the other as to whether or not sheâd see another day, Imogen wanted to live. More accurately, perhaps, she didnât want to be ground into pulp inside that thingâs maw, or slowly disintegrated by its stomach acid. If she could help it, Imogen would keep going, because thatâs what sheâd always done no matter how bad things got. Even if all the world were to conspire to arrange her downfall, sheâd find a way to persevere through sheer spite.
Right now, though, her grand designs ran into a little snag. Predictably, she ran out of island, and slid to a stop in a spray of sand just inches from the bubbling surf of that uncanny sea. Imogan whipped around to look for the frog, her breathing ragged and unsteady. Despite her best efforts, she could still see and hear that damnable amphibian through the trees, but at least it didnât seem to be pursuing her. Phase two of her âplanâ had already begun, which consisted for the most part of hoping that bulbous freak went after someone else. She didnât know if she could stay away from it if it set her sights on her; only now, after her brief burst of adrenaline, could she really begin to appreciate how much her mad dash took out of her. Probable malnourishment plus a rather sedentary lifestyle did not add up to make a physical powerhouse. Her vision swam, her throat hurt, and she could only wait and watch for danger as she struggled to stay standing.
From this distance she couldnât see the whole story, but things didnât look good. At first she Imogen wondered if the ungainly beast hadnât pursued anyone -predators in the wild could be confused by the erratic movement of fleeing zebras and such, after all- but her heart sank as a more likely reason solidified in her mind. Someone might have tripped and fallen while trying to run, or maybe never fled at all, and remained paralyzed by fear on the spot. Gritting her teeth, Imogen tentatively moved along the shore until she could see a bit better, at which point her hands flew to her head. It was Maive. Someone had already been eaten -Sofia, if God was just- and now Maive stood alone in front of the heavyweight horror as it finished up the first course to move on to the second. Imogen hated the thought of just standing here and watching it happen, but what could she -or anyone- do?
As if in reply, the wind began to pick up.
Imogen froze, blinking in surprise, as a cool gust blew through her hair. Everything had been weirdly still up until now, but all of a sudden this breeze coursed through the bushes and palm fronds, building with such surprising speed that Imogen needed to steady herself to not teeter over. Equally baffled and amazed, she watched from afar as the air seemed to gather into a rippling storm cell by Maive. After just another moment, that blustery mass burst, and from within emerged a cyclonic apparition, its body like a loosely-wrapped mummy with âbandagesâ of spiraling air. Nobody who looked at it and saw another monstrous foe here to torment them could be blamed for assuming the worst, but something about it sprouted a sprig of hope in Imogenâs heart. The way it appeared behind Maive and focused on the titanic toad told her that, for whatever reason, it was here to help and not harm. Sure enough, the whirling spirit went on the offensive, attacking the malignant menace with giant ghostly hands. Unfortunately, Maiveâs helper did not succeed. She failed to extract the person the frog gobbled up, and Maive herself took a withering blow right afterward. Thatâs the end of that, Imogen thought, her hopes crushed and her day ruined (again), but somehow Maive survived the attack. Imogenâs grip on her head tightened, her eyes wide with worry. This emotional roller coaster sucked, and she wanted off. Being stuck in the peanut gallery sure wasnât doing her emotional state any favors. She got the distinct impression that Maive and that inexplicable specter needed help, but Imogen couldnât do anything. Scared, distant, powerless, worthless. Like always.
I can't find any fault with that sheet. The route you've taken with your characters in that their themes and strengths aren't best suited for fighting is an interesting one, since we do end up doing a good amount of combat in this RP, but as long as your characters continuously compel you to write I'm all for it. Partitio is accepted.
As much as she wanted to put all her fancy new psytech to the test, looking stuff up, editing her interface, customizing her SAS interactions, and generally seeing what it could do, Peach couldnât stay up all that late. She was bone-tired. Even though nothing of major importance to her campaign had been achieved today, it had been a long day, and the Seekers ended up covering quite a lot of ground. They set out from home base at Alcamoth in the continent's southeastern reaches, boated across river, rapids, and sea, fought tooth and nail with pirates, and survived the mad scramble in Nyakuza Metro all the way up in the Frozen Highlands. After the teams got separated, her arrival in Gutsford led to that absurd truck battle through the scrubland and Kunad Highway. Things scarcely got less crazy after that with the heroesâ arrival in Midgar and subsequent adventures within it, including her first brush with the Others.
Lying in bed in her dorm room, silent except for the breathing and occasional snores of other female OSF personnel, Peach could scarcely believe all that had transpired. It boggled the mind and defied prediction; if nothing else, this world was never boring. Who could have guessed that today sheâd officially join the ranks of a foreign city-stateâs psionic military? Of course, she couldnât help but worry about something unexpected just around the next corner taking her by surprise, but there wasnât much she could do about it other than trust in her teammates, and in herself, too. In Midgar more than ever before, she felt caught up in a current much bigger and stronger than herself. Fighting against it in its entirety might be impossible, but she couldnât just resign herself to the flow, either. Sooner or later, Princess Peach was going to make a difference around here. Maybe sheâd even save the world.
Ultimately, it took only a few moments of reminiscing in bed before Peach fell asleep.
Next morning, she awoke suddenly with her head ringingâliterally. One of the programs uploaded to Peachâs mind via her SAS connected -and enabled by default- was a morning wake-up call system, and though neither painfully obnoxious nor clamorous it proved insistent enough to rouse her from bed at the start of the standard Psych-OSF day: six oâclock. Throwing off the covers, she put her feet on the floor and rubbed her face. These people clearly werenât night owls. After putting herself together, she found two new Brain Messages. One was a general message from command detailing instructions for that morning, which amounted to making all the necessary preparations for starting âOperation Scourâ at nine oâclock on the dot. That meant three hours to get herself in working order, fully cleaned, fed, and equipped for her first assignment as a member of OSF. Of course, Peach also knew to keep in mind that she wasnât just some grunt. She was an infiltrator. She needed to get whatever useful information about OSF, its top brass, its relation to the government, and so forth that she could without blowing her cover. Learning more about the Others, and by extension the Ever Crisis, was even more important. The Seekers who didnât accompany the three cadets should be informed about the OSF and its movements too, although for now Peach didnât know how sheâd contact the others. It might be too busy this morning to sneak out in person, and she got the impression that whatever she sent through Psynet might not necessarily be secure. Oh well, she thought, heading for the door. Iâll cross that bridge when I come to it.
First stop after leaving the dorms was the outfitter. Rank-and-file troopers might not have a lot of say in what they could wear, but one of the benefits afforded to more powerful Scarlet Guardians -no matter their level of experience- was the freedom to customize their uniforms. Peach managed to assemble an outfit much more to her liking, something between a techwear coat and an elegant dress, complete with a tie. Even if some others might see a âbattle skirtâ as impractical, she appreciated the chance to express herself. If only she could get it in pink, since the standard Psych-OSF colors seemed to be almost completely red, black, and gray.
She headed out from the outfitter at a brisk place, having somewhere to be. The other Brain Message she got had been from someone familiar; Luka Travers. He invited her, Sakura, and Raz to join him for another meal at the Otherlobe cafeteria, so the princess made her way there quickly. The cafeteria resembled one familiar to Raz, but much larger in scale, and like everywhere else in the Otherlobe this morning it buzzed with activity. There were soldiers everywhere, scurrying around like ants as they made preparations, everyone galvanized into a state of urgency by the imminent operation. Peach found Luka at a table by one of the great glass windows with two strangers beside him.They both wore somewhat similar sleek outfits in typical OSF black and red, both with scarves and matching mask accessories, worn in their hair. The young man, though, sported red eyes with black sclera, decent musculature, angular features, a slight bluish tint to his fair skin, and a thick, x-shaped, metallic mark on his face. Meanwhile, the young woman sported long hair in a purple to yellow gradient, detached sleeves, soft features, a garment even more like a dress than Peachâs, a slight purplish tint to her dark skin, and a full figure.
âGood morning,â Luka greeted Peach. âPeach, this is Dexio and Sina. Dexio and Sina, Peach.â
The princessâs new acquaintance gave a wave and a smile. âHey there. The pleasureâs all mine. My power's Seismokinesis.â
âHi. Nice to meetcha,â Sina added. "My power is Cryokinesis."
âNow that youâve been assigned your platoon, you should get to know your teammates,â Luka explained.
Peachâs brows went up. âOh! Right, yeah, nice to meet you both. My power's Materialization. Guess weâll be working together!â She glanced at Luka. âThatâs five total, right? Do you know who our platoon leaderâs going to be, Luka?â
âActually, thatâd be me,â the young man told her, looking a little embarrassed. âCommandâs always been pressuring me to take up leadership, especially since I used to be Septentrion 6th Class, back before our merger with the Psychonauts. Needing more platoons for Scour mustâve been as good an excuse as any, and after I vouched for you three, they must have thought youâd be a good fit on my team.â
Dexio grinned. âOh, no need to be so bashful, Luka. Everyone knows youâre our ace in the hole. Hereâs to Luka Platoon, eh?â
âOh, I wish you wouldnât call it that. I donât want anything to be different between me and my peers, if I can help it.â Luka glanced at Peach again. âOh, please, help yourself to the breakfast buffet. Weâre going to need all the energy we can get for today.â The little guy had a heaping plate of high-protein pancakes and eggs to get through anyway, and he wasted no time following his own advice. Dexio and Sina, without anything to eat of their own, stood to accompany Peach to the line for food.
Level 11 Tora (148/110) Level 12 Poppi (38/120) Level 4 Goldlewis (9/40) Goldlewis, Tora and Poppi, Roxasâ @Double, Karinâs @Zoey Boey, Midnaâs @DracoLunaris, Pitâs @Yankee, Susie and Blazermateâs @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichiâs @Multi_Media_Man, Benedictâs @Dark Cloud Word Count: 3112 + 628/458
Unlike a number of their companions, both Tora and Poppi enjoyed a good nightâs sleep in their little nook. While she did not require rest to function, the artificial blade could employ her built-in sleep mode to bypass the boredom of waiting and awaken alongside her Masterpon when morning finally arrived. Since yesterdayâs events amounted to nothing more than excitement, exercise, and beating up baddies, even if he himself got a little more beat up than he would have liked, Tora slept soundly. He did not oversleep, however, and after a full eight hours roused both himself and Poppi from slumber. He wasnât a slovenly shut-in anymore after all, but a heropon, and with that mantle came certain expectations. With a yawn, Tora pushed open the closet door and waddled across the hall to peer through the windows. Not a glorious new day by any means, all overcast and rainy. The sound of footsteps behind him heralded Poppiâs arrival by his side, still in QT-Pi mode. She tousled his hair, eliciting a smile. Any day was a good day so long as he had Poppi.
First order of business for any newly-awake Nopon was, of course, breakfast. Midgarâs former Special Operations Unit had established their base of operations on just one floor of this unassuming office building, and with it being stark even in terms of a workplace, no food could be found on the premises. Despite the rainfall Tora and Poppi took to the streets, where they quickly found a small diner only too happy to serve a quick and affordable meal. The Nopon happily wolfed down the greasy, bloated sausages and watery eggs, then drank his fill of sweet, tangy orange juice, happily indifferent to its genuineness. Poppi just took in the smells and sounds of the diner, peering out into the rain as she wondered what the day might bring.
Once back at the office, Tora ran a quick diagnostic on his companion to see if he could tune anything up, but Poppi seemed to be in pretty good shape. They reviewed the spirits theyâd gotten from yesterday, which both declined to trade away. Jack Frost possessed a stature and bulbousness rather like Tora, but he didnât relish the idea of fusion, and also didnât want a strikerâhe needed no partner but Poppi. As for Chemtrail, he considered crushing it for an item, but then had a brainwave. Thanks to her fusion with that phantom Armor, Poppi Alpha already had a âheavy metal knightâ theme going for her, and the idea of making her even tankier sounded pretty good. Poppi agreed, and they set about making the dream a reality.
Spirit absorbed: Chemtrail The host has gotten taller, reaching the side of an adult. Her armor has gotten heavier with the thickest âshellâ parts gaining a chrome luster. Her shoulder-pads look like angry, yelling faces. Her lower legs are armored with especially heavy engine-boots with plenty of pipes, vents, and serrations. Her Drill Shield is now mostly chrome metal with serrated edges. This spirit confers the Power Riot Gun, allowing the Drill Shield she generates in this form to fire stronger, faster, more payloads with more stopping power but much smaller explosions, at a mana cost rather than using ammunition. This spirit also confers the Weakness Annul Light/Dark, preventing Poppi Alpha from using her Light or Dark core
Item acquired: Jack Frost Hat A royal blue cap with two zigzags on top. Anyone who wears gains Jack Frostâs strength: immunity to most elemental ice attacks
Poppi switched back to QT-PI Mode after. With it too wet outside to head out to the helipad, Tora decided the two of them should do some âtrainingâ in the meeting room while everyone else trickled in. This amounted to him attempting to follow along while Poppi practiced her new breakdance-inspired fighting techniques over in one corner, with comedic results, but the little guy kept at it until everyone was ready to begin.
After hopping up into the seat, he noticed an unfamiliar face at the table. Creased and wrinkled by many years of experience, with crowâs feet from plenty of laughter, Vernon looked serious but not unfriendly. âHello, friend!â Tora greeted him. He didnât need any introductions to know just what to call someone new.
âGood morning, son,â the former president said in reply.
Goldlewis offered a nod of respect to the Nopon inventor. âI hear you risked your neck for Giovanna last night, so to speak. You have my thanks.â He glanced at the secret agent in question as if to ask her if Tora had hers, too.
âMm-hm. She leaned back in her chair. Though pretty sure that things wouldâve been fine without Toraâs intervention, she appreciated his help all the same. Rei trotted over to shovel her head beneath Toraâs wing to be petted, which pleased him to no end.
Midna criticized the quality of the food offered, and shaky though it might be in terms of nutrition, Jessica did not smile upon the impâs feedback. âYou can have nothing if you prefer,â she deadpanned.
âIâm sorry we couldnât provide better accommodations for you all in general,â Vernon apologized, not eager for a squabble between the ladies. âWe havenât exactly been living the high life out here. Ever since our exodus from the Administration, weâve been keeping a low profile. Money is short, and most of what we make goes right back into operations.â
Giovanna shrugged with a sigh. âHow the mighty have fallen.â
With Vernonâs presence the level of formality in the room felt a bit higher, and it wasnât much longer before the meeting officially began. Like any good meeting it began with a retrospective about the road that led here, and the Seekers began recounting yesterdayâs events. Midna mentioned the Others first, and from experience Goldlewis knew that despite their bizarre appearances, those things werenât messing around. âReal tough cookies,â he commented. âSome of âem got powers, and they know how to use âem. The flyinâ electric ones and the slimy ones teamed up to electrocute me, and it hurt somethinâ fierce. I reckon we only seen the tip of the iceberg so far.â
Next she brought up the Chimeras, which in the veteranâs mind were the biggest problem by far. âBeinâ invisible and appearinâ just about anywhere outta those gates is bad enough, but that corruption is some scary shit. If the folks from Neuron werenât there, we mightâve all aberrated ourselves.â It was too easy to remember the screams of the poor people from last night as they transformed. Goldlewis didnât shiver or shudder or anything, but he shook his head in profound, brow-furrowed dissatisfaction. âWe canât take those bastards on. Not âtil we get some sort of countermeasure.â For now, he didnât dare say anything about the red spirit. He didnât know what it meant, and he wasnât sure if he wanted to know, either.
âRed matter corruptionâŠâ Poppi repeated, her tone grave. She examined the weird spirit carefully, but couldnât figure anything out other than it being, well, red instead of prismatic. âIf Neuron has the only cure, itâs worth looking into, but it definitely sounds like we should steer clear of chimeras for now.â
Juiced up on caffeine, Midna also recommended a course of action for today, which just so happened to be what Goldlewis favored as well. âThatâs what I figured weâd be doinâ,â he told everyone. âLuka mentioned it off-handedly, but it sounded like a real big deal. Some kind oâ massive joint operation with all the fixinâs, ordered by Administration higher-ups. Might be a good chance to learn more âbout both Psych-OSF and the Others, if theyâre gettinâ their hands dirty in Other territory. Plus, we oughta be there for our moles, in case things go south. I ainât gonna leave anyone behind if I can help it.â
He crossed his arms. âYesterday I procured a hideout in Seiran, real close to the lift up to Suoh. Nothinâ much happens around these parts, so Sector 7âs a good place to hole up, but if we want our finger on the pulse a base near Midgarâs beatinâ heart is what we need. Should be ready by now, too. I reckon my team should head over soon as we finish up here and get familiar with Seiran while waitinâ for details from the moles.â
Midnaâs offer to set up warp portals appealed to him greatly. âYeah, letâs do that,â he told her. âMuch as I like drivinâ the Patriot, itâs a real doggone trip to make twice or more a day.â
Next to make a suggestion was Roxas. He preferred the idea of eschewing the other factions at play in Midgar in order to go it alone, building up reputation and power through direct action. It sounded nice, but especially after he gave fictional detectives as an example, it sounded a bit fanciful too. âThat sound fun! As heropon, Tora very good at quests!â Tora seemed to be in favor, or at least enthused, and he piped out with an important question. âWhat is detective?â
Susie spoke up to rain on Roxasâ parade, reminding him that establishing such an agency would be a lot easier said than done. Goldlewis stroked his whiskers as Susie said her piece, then offered his own two cents. âGoinâ public is a risky move,â he mused. âItâs true we donât want anyone controllinâ us, but weâd be startinâ from scratch. Itâd take a hell of a lot of time, money, and patience. Assuminâ the powers that be just let it happen, or donât find out.â Karin was in agreement; the means to make something like this happen didnât come from nowhere.
Poppi held a knuckle to her mouth as she thought. âWeâre all for helping people as much as we can, and reaping whatever rewards we can get from them of course, butâŠremember what we were told about the Consuls yesterday?â She glanced at Tora for support, although she didnât necessarily expect him to recall. âIt seems like powerful enemies know what weâre up to now. Might be better to stay under the radar. Time probably isnât on our side.â
Once Susie mentioned hacking, Vernon pursed his lips. âHmm. Not to be a stick in the mud, but if youâre not psych-tech, you might have a rough time of it. Psynetâs known for being a tough nut to crack. Youâd need to access the city computer Arahabaki to even have a chance, and itâs under lock and key deep below ground underneath the Shinra building.â
Giovanna answered Blazermateâs concerns about the secret police. âActually, youâre not too far off the mark. Thereâs two kinds of Turk in General Affairs. The kind who work in the light, like Benedict here, who solve crimes, do paperwork, and goof around with G-men. Then thereâs the kind who work in the dark: my old buddies, the Auditors. You know, actual secret agents. I was with them before these guys scooped me up, and theyâreâŠwell, probably what youâd expect. Dangerous. Unscrupulous. And not anyone we want to come knocking.â
âSpeaking of dangerous, I donât suppose youâve heard anything from Raiden?â Vernon asked Giovanna.
The redhead sighed. âSadly, no. He split from us in Detroit. I donât mind him going off and getting killed by DespoRHado in some suicide crusade, but he knows enough to sink us if heâs compromised. I shouldâve kept him on a tighter leash...â
At that point, things took a turn. Vernon, Jessica, and Goldlewis had all been made aware that Benedict wasnât the only Unit Chief from General Affairs who knew about this place. Even as the meeting proceeded, all wrestled with unease at the possibility that Giovanna made a mistake. But now, rather than arriving with a horde of G-men or worse at his back, Zenkichi appeared with his daughter alone. She did not take kindly to the new company, but despite the outburst nobody took action. They all understood the telltale light in Akaneâs eyes, and could understand the anguish that must accompany Zenkichiâs position. Luckily, the Seekers could also help. Geralt suggested it and Roxas executed it, freeing the poor girl from Galeemâs grip. With that freedom came the typical mental overload, but Giovanna sent Rei over to nuzzle Akane, and as someone of comparable years Tora offered her his support. âMust be hard right now,â he said. âNothing make sense, meh. Just take easy for now.â He nodded his approval when Zenkichi got her a donut. âSweets make everything better, meh!â
As it turned out, Zenkichi hadnât come to this meeting empty-handed. Without warning he let loose a deluge of fresh information, including the announcement of a possible attack from the Machines today, which Public Security seemed happy to let fall on DespoRHado and the undercities. The news left everyone aghast, especially Goldlewis. âThat ainât good,â he summarized. âIt sounds PubSec ainât willinâ to call off the OSF op to put the Scarlet Guardians on defense duty. So theyâre leavinâ it up to DespoRHado to save the day, while also hopinâ they fail. The balls it takes to make a call like that.â He could only run his hand through his hair in consternation. âActually, I wonder if the intel that leaked to the Machines was about the op in the first place. Makes sense theyâd attack while the cityâs army is off cleaninâ out the olâ subway system.â
Zenkichiâs remarks about Public Security interested the SOU personnel especially. After mentioning Akira Konoe and that the man hailed from his own world, the detective went on to explain just what PubSecâs head had gotten up to in the before-times, and it was nothing good. Under normal circumstances a story like that would have boggled the mind, but the Seekers had no choice. They could only accept it and move on. As the conversation turned away from current affairs and more to a personal dialog between Zenkichi and Geralt, Vernon turned toward the rest of the table, his voice low.
âAkira Konoe is a member of Shinraâs cabinet,â he told everyone. âMy people left with me, so I donât know his personally. Only by reputation. Mara, head of Advanced Weaponry. Hojo, head of Research and Development. Wright, head of Urban Planning. The head of Time and Space DivisionâŠI forget her name, exactly, but sheâs some sort of erudite. And as you know, Konoe is head of the Public Security, which means it isnât just the police heâs in charge of. He is also the direct superior of Truman Zanotto, giving him the power to order around Psych-OSF. Aside from Shinra himself, heâs certainly the most powerful man in the city.â
Poppiâs brow furrowed. âSounds like someone weâll need to confront at some point. But before that, like Pit and Zenkichi said, we need to do something about this Machine attack. Are we splitting up again?â
Tora looked from her to Goldlewis, who slowly nodded. âSome back to Seiran, some back to Detroit? That seems likely. Nice as it was, looks like our little reunionâs gonna be a brief one.â He heaved a heavy sigh. âLeast weâll get to stretch our legs outside the city, eh?â
Vernon nodded. âWhile you all get out there, Jessica and I will look after things on the home front. Our talks with Bridges yesterday went well. Theyâre dispatching engineers today to set up nodes and get us hooked up to their Chiral Network. That includes your Seiran Hideout, once they contact you there. They can even renovate the place for you, make it liveable.â He paused for a moment, then added, âThe Chiral Network is a safer and more secure alternative to Psynet; we use phone glyphs for a good reason.â
âIf weâre done blabbing, we should get going. With so much ground to cover, weâll be lucky to get where weâre going before all hell breaks loose as it us,â Giovanna observed.
âRight.â Goldlewis stood. âWe got a busy day ahead of us.â Idly he wondered if the groups would be any different from last time. It sounded like Midna wanted to go to Seiran again and Karin would probably want to support her friend Sakura, but other than that he didnât know for sure.
Tora jumped down from his chair. âMeh-meh! What friends wait for then? To hero-mobiles!â
This time, Goldlewis and Giovannaâs cars rolled out in the same direction. With the chaos that had befallen the highways around Sector 7âs hub last night, and the veteranâs desire not to leave his hummer alone in Suoh long-term, he figured it would be better to go by rail. Both teams would be taking different routes from yesterday, in fact; while Goldlewis and his crew took a train to Seiran, Giovannaâs would be descending to the Sector 7 undercity. Being Detroitâs next-door neighbor and just as likely to take the brunt of a Machine invasion, albeit without DespoRHado for defense, those slums would be a lot easier to operate in. After parking and trooping over to the train situation, the division of Seekers between the Other and Machine Teams got finalized, and they bid one another farewell. âGood luck friends!â Tora called as those bound for Seiran boarded their maglev locomotive. He waved until they disappeared into the distance.
Rather than take up two seats on the train, Goldlewis stood at one end, forced by his impressive height to stoop slightly. In the course of his uncomfortable ride the veteran listened to the trainâs news broadcast. Most of it didnât matter much, but he did catch one interesting story. âAt this time, we can confirm the bombing of Mako Reactor 1 in Sector 1 at around one oâ clock this morning,â the newscaster reported. âThe destruction led to panic and chaos in Piltover as fires spread and authorities rushed to the scene. Their attempts to arrest the probable fugitives resulted in over two dozen casualties. Even the involvement of a Claw wasnât enough to bring them to justice. At this point no group has claimed responsibility for the attack, but thereâs only one name on the minds of the terrified populace: Avalanche. These terrorists are armed and extremely dangerous. Citizens are asked to report any suspicious activity they see today toâŠâ
Goldlewis removed his glasses in order to massage his temple. âAlways somethinâ,â he muttered. âAt least it was all the way over in Sector 1 instead of 7. Last thing Giovannaâs team needs right now is runninâ into Avalanche.â
From the moment Giovanna, Tora, Poppi, and the rest of their team arrived in the Sector 7 slums, they realized that even compared to Sector 8, it was a completely different beast. Detroit had the air of a run-down, burnt-out city, a boom town way past its prime desperately trying to cover up the odor of poverty and dereliction with a spritz of new-age glitz and glamor. One could almost believe it to be the home of a second technological revolution of robotics if one stuck to the shiny, metallic main streets and city center, but beyond that lay a hollow, crime-riddled husk of a metropolis. The Sector 7 Slums, meanwhile, offered no illusions; it was simply a sprawling expanse of threadbare, industrial destitution, mistakeable from a distance for one big dump. Instead of roads or gravel, it had dirt. The cluttered clusters of hovels, shacks, and shops were lucky if they were made of concrete or brick. Most were riveted together from rusty sheet metal. Everything was run-down and disorganized, slapped together as it became necessary rather than assembled with any plan in mind. After leaving the train station, Tora needed to climb over a pipe only halfway buried in the dirt road, which happened to be in use judging by the high-pitched scrapy noise it gave off. If one of those ramshackle trucks drove over it the wrong way, he figured it could easily burst the pipe and take out plumbing for the whole area, including a factory next to the train station. These slums made Detroit look pretty good, actually. At least the Plate above blocked out the rain, preventing the undercityâs floor from turning to mud.
Giovanna pointed the team in the direction of the undercityâs edge. âWeâre headed for Scrap Boulevard,â she declared. âUnlike Detroit, these slums donât have a real outer wall. That junkyard is the buffer zone where local militia and any androids or cyborgs deployed here hold the Machines off whenever they come knocking. We wonât have any trouble getting outside the city that way.â
âOnce we reach edge, what we do about Machines?â Tora asked. âStand guard until they show up, meh?â
âI was thinking weâd be more proactive,â Giovanna said. âIf we leave Midgar and take the fight to them, we might be able to nip anything going on in the bud, or at least find out more about them.â She crossed her arms. âPeople in this sector who donât commute elsewhere in the city to work probably make ends meet by salvaging, and the best loot is out in the valley of ruins. We should see if we can hitch a ride with a salvage crew. Theyâd probably have some way to tell where the Machines are while out there too, in order to avoid them.â
Poppi nodded. âMakes sense. Youâre very knowledgeable, Giovanna.â
âEhh. Iâm too lazy to go and figure all this out myself,â she said, shrugging. âItâs people like the twins who actually go and learn this stuff.â With a goal in mind, she began to saunter down the dirt road in the direction of the cityâs edge. Tora and Poppi followed behind, keeping their eyes out. To the left stood a hostel cafeteria, one of the only buildings in sight with glass in it, and down the way on the right stood a bar and restaurant called Seventh Heaven, but it wouldnât be open until lunchtime at least. All these people, just trying to make it day today, and any minute now they might find their meager home under attack by rampant robots. Tora clenched his wing. A true heropon wouldnât rest until he knew these people were safe.
The train ride to Seiran took some time, as well as an interesting route. With the Sector 6 undercity, Deep-Paris, being a massive mass of earth and architecture, the train spent most of its time in dark tunnels until it suddenly emerged into the muted light of the rainy day. Suddenly the vehicle was rattling over the murky Sector 5 reservoir on a track held up by tall metal support struts, hundreds of feet above the water. In this fashion it cruised in toward one of the biggest buildings, and when it reached it it ascended in a spiral path around its edge to the train station.
Seiran took the form of a few dozen skyscrapers that rose from the reservoir all the way up to the plate, connected together to form a many-tiered array of bridges, rooftops, and balconies. Its dark upper levels shone with the perennial glow of countless streetlamps that interspersed the railings of countless walkways. Things were nicer the higher up one -and the closer to Suoh- one was in Seiran, especially near the giant cargo lift that marked Seiranâs economical center. Conversely, the lower one went -and the closer to the reservoir- the filthier and less hospitable things became. No boats sailed those fetid waters; no edible fish or potable water could be extracted from it, and nobody in his or her right mind would immerse in it. Yet a number of the poorest, least human, and most outcast elements of the city congregated in camps at the foot of those skyscrapers, sunken too deep to ever rise again.
Goldlewis and the team stuck to the upper part of Seiran, where a crisp wind blew across the high-altitude boardwalks to play with the hanging lanterns and umbrellas of the outdoor markets, pavilions, promenades, and food courts. Their objective was the former clinic just a couple bridges away from the cargo lift, half of it yellow, half of it blue, and all of it for the Seekersâ exclusive use. Goldlewis planned to stick around to meet up with the Bridges contacts and get the place developed for use as a proper hideout, but the others could explore around Seiran or even ascend to Suoh. If they were going to help with the Psych-OSF operation, they needed to know more about when and whereâand preferably how the trio that joined the Scarlet Guardians were doing, as well.
Even among the many tall buildings of the Home of Tears, Habbo Hotel stood out as something special, and not just because of its bright orange, almost garish exterior. Sure, it might not be as high-falutin, exclusive, or aesthetic as the various premier places to stay in the Royal Quarter, but Nadia could appreciate its everyday comfort and broad appeal. When she awoke it might not be any brighter or less rainy outside than when she went to bed, but she felt refreshed and revitalized. The expensive suite sheâd secured with her ill-gotten gains also afforded her something new, something that she never wouldâve expected to get in a million years: room service.
After figuring out the phone, which took a lot longer than she would have liked, she ordered up a giant breakfast delivered not just to her door, but straight to her bed. A troop of Prinnies with ties waddled in on with silver platters, balancing precariously on their peg legs to deliver her a feast of eggs, sausage, and syrupy pancakesâall the protein and carbs she needed for another long day of constant exercise. Feeling like a princess, Nadia enjoyed the meal with gusto, drinking from her mug of coffee with her pinky finger extended and making a big show of daubing her face with a napkin after every bite.
Eventually she went downstairs. Behind her she left her suiteâs bedroom and bathroom a thorough mess of dishes, napkins, towels, perfumes, and shampoo bottles, smugly leaving the Prinny team to pick up after her. When she reached the front desk, she was wearing one of the hotelâs fancy, HH-embroidered, orange bathrobes beneath her black jacket, on top of her shorts and bra. A complimentary umbrella lay tucked under one arm. âGood morninâ,â she greeted the receptionist, a penguin with a tie. His nametag read âBergâ. âDâya know if any of my friends checked in after me last night? I let âem know Iâd be stayinâ here.â She gave a brief description of some teammates.
âOh, Ms. Fortune, good morning.â The penguin dutifully checked the register. âYes, one Queen Sectonia checked in after asking about you. As did one Mr. Dragmire, Ms Faden, young Mr. Omori, Ms Azelhart, the Koopa familyâŠâ
âOh, the others made it here too? How lucky is that!â Nadia grinned, glad that her breadcrumb trail had worked better even than she could have imagined. âCould I leave a message for any of âem that come by? Just say Nadia wanted to get together again in the lobby here at, ohâŠâ She glanced at the clock on the wall. âNine?â
The receptionist jotted that down. âCertainly. By the way, someone left a message for you as well. Not you in particular, but anyone from âthe group of travelers who arrived in the nightâ.â
Nadia raised her brows, curious. âGo on.â Berg slipped her a letter, which she opened to read.
To whom it may concern: last night, one of my sentries witnessed your arrival from Ash Lake. Such an unauthorized intrusion upon the grounds of Gallo Tower would have been enough cause to raise the alarm, but I chose not to do so. Very few who tread upon the ashes of the Flower Garden live to tell the tale. I must confess myself intrigued by you, and what brings you to the Home of Tears. We may be able to help one another. Therefore I would like to meet. Seek the tower overlooking the Collection with windows that glow an ethereal whiteâthe Soul Sanctum. Be aware that it is home to wretched things that will no doubt attempt to hinder your ascent. I will be waiting in the highest room.
-IGV
After a moment Nadia scratched her head, a perplexed look on her face. âI havenât the foggiest idea what this dudeâs talkinâ about. Guess Iâll bring it up at the meetinâ.â She put the paper in one of her new leather pouches and clasped it tight. Before turning to go, she glanced back at the penguin. âOh! One last thing. Didja see any polar bears?â
âPolar bears?â The receptionist rubbed the underside of his beak with a flipper. âI donât think so, no.â
Nadia grinned. âMakes sense. You guys are âpolarâ opposites after all.â
After blinking for a moment, the penguin gave a weak sigh. âMs. Fortune, itâs too early in the morning for puns.â
âHey, just breakinâ the ice!â Nadia said indignantly before giving a sly wink. â...Berg!â
She sped out of the hotel cackling, opening her complimentary umbrella on the way. With plenty of money still in her pocket, Nadia knew just where she wanted to go before the team reunited to figure out what their next step would be: Seamâs. The feral made a beeline through the rainy streets to where she remembered that distinctive stitched-together tent being last night, and after only a couple wrong turns she managed to find it. It seemed a lot bigger than she remembered, though. Upon entering, she found herself surrounded by all sorts of random odds and ends, including a whole host of living plushies.
âHee hee. Welcome, traveler,â a voice said from the far end of the store, drawing Nadiaâs attention away from the strange assortment of goods. At the back on a colorful patchwork rug sat a purple and orange cat with a sutured face and a single spinning button eye.
How fun! Nadia made her way over to crouch in front of her fellow feline. âSeam, I presume?â she said with a smile.
âHehe, yes. The name's Seam. Pronounced âShawmâ. And this is my little Seap. Ha ha ha haâŠâ
The feral grinned. âThatâs pretty goodâŠâ
âOver the years, I've collected odds and ends,â Seam continued. Course, I've no attachment to any of it. It's just a hobby of mine.â
âSounds good to me. Iâm looking for a new weapon, and you can have these, too. Anchors from the eastern seaboard!â She set Massachusettsâ broken-off anchors down before him. âI used âem as axes, but I figured I could do better, so I thought Iâd âaxe around.â
Seam accepted the anchors and gave a small handful of Geo in return. âThanks for that. What do you like to buy?â
âOh, havenât decided yet. Iâll take a look around.â
âTake your time... Ain't like it's better spent,â Seam chuckled.
Nadia poked around the shop. Perhaps thanks to the City of Tearsâ mostly peaceful nature, there werenât a lot of weapons, but she kept digging. Pawn shops like this were probably regular stops for any adventurers who came through, hoping to get something for all the loot they gained in their adventures that they didnât need or want. Even a valuable piece of equipment might be useless to someone who couldnât use it, after all. Sure enough, she got her hands on a couple pieces of weaponry, like a big shuriken, a sour battle-axe, and a heavy bone hammer clotted with blood, but nothing struck her fancy until she unearthed a metal case with two protruding handles. They looked like pistols, but they didnât have any barrels or anything, and when she drew one from the case she laid eyes on a segmented blade that extended from the deviceâs underside. âBox cutters?â she murmured. Thatâs what they looked like, but they were huge. When fully drawn and held upside-down, with the trigger below her pinky, it was basically a sword. Pushing in the trigger detached the blade from the grip, though reattaching it was easy enough. After shaking the case itself, Nadia realized that it must contain extra blades. Two swords with replaceable blades, eh? âNot bad.â She took the weapon over to Seam.
âKagari Rokushikisouken,â Seam said when presented with the weapon. Confronted by Nadiaâs baffled expression, the cat explained. âThe paired swords, hee hee hee. Fell out of the sky one day, probably sunk to the bottom of the lake up above and through one of the cracks. Everything that ends up here has its story, whether or not anyone still lives to tell it, hee hee.â
Nadia ended up paying a lot for it, which on top of her previous expenses cut a pretty big hole in her new funds. Easy come, easy go, she supposed. She slung the case over her back and put the grips in her belt, reasoning that when it came time to use them she could whip them out and insert a blade in each of them before the fight began. Lighter, longer, easier to use, and more versatile than the anchors, the box cutters (sheâd already forgotten their full name) seemed very promising, and she couldnât wait to try them out. After that, Nadia hurried back the way she came. It had to be close to nine by now. No matter what came of the Seekersâ reunion, she expected sheâd get to use her new swords soon enough.
Item acquired: Kagari Rokushikisouken A pair of grips, designed to be triggered when held in a reverse grip, and a case with twenty-six disposable segmented blades with a single razor edge. The blades can be inserted into the grips easily and quickly, and detached with a squeeze of the triggers. These âbox cuttersâ ae dexterity weapons that can slash, stab, and sever with speed and finesse, leave their blades inside stabbed targets, or send them flying with a well-timed trigger pull
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.<br><br>Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.</div>
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