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<<nobr>>\ <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <<set $day to 0; $night to 0; $gonknown to 0; $natalusvisit to false; $noweapon to false>> <</nobr>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Does our blood not behave the same?" one of the guests questions, and you can feel a wave of horror overtake those standing beside you. You have all grown experienced in reading the most minute shifts in behavior. At first, it was odd. Something you all stayed up discussing at night, half of you would say that the signals were not very clear while the other half swore it was the most obvious thing. Now, it feels as natural as feeling the difference between a breeze and a gust of wind. All of you know what conversations like this lead to, what it will mean for one of you. When drinks are flowing and guests chattering away, their voices rising and dropping as they discuss things outside their scope of understanding, it always means the worse for you terrans. One of them will rise and come over, using one of you as an example to demonstrate their point. Sometimes, they don't make it. Sometimes, their mind changes halfway along the way or another distracts them with a query. But the times that they do come over, it never ends well for the one chosen. A collective prayer is sent to the heavens, each of you praying to a god you have realized is too far away to hear or one you never believed existed to begin with.</span> <a data-passage="8FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"It does not," the guest who had begun the entire discussion says, looking at your line before back at Baroness Devina, who waves her dual tail in permission. They rise and approach. You suppose this day was always meant to happen. Too many times did you stand beside death, releasing a breath of relief as someone else was chosen. So many times did you think yourself lucky. Luck has now decided to teach you that you have never been that. "Must I give a personal demonstration?" the woman asks, and when no one says anything, she grabs your hand and pulls out a knife. The first cut is on the back of your hand, and though she applies a decent amount of pressure, it does not hurt as much as you expect. Your body teeters between showing its genuine reaction and remembering that you are but a doll. Stand silently and absently. You are not a person. You are not a person. The next cut causes the mantra to die, and you release a low whimper. The woman has the nerve to look at you in shock, as if she, too, forgot that you are a living being who feels. That bleeds. She doesn't dwell on the fact for long, showing everyone your now bleeding palm and how the blood rushes out far faster than the previous one. "Then," she tells them, releasing her hold on your wrist and moving it up to your elbow. You can see what she is intending. The path the knife will make as it opens up your forearm. You remember all those random conversations about bleeding, how some kids seemed proud of the idea that they knew vertical cuts were more conducive than horizontal ones. This woman will be your murderer. You so clearly can see your body on the floor, Devina worried about nothing but cleaning the blood up before it tarnishes the quality. There are maybe two or three in the line with you right now that know your name, the others will see you as but another casualty. Your siblings, who will tell them? How long will it be before they learn that you perished? A few days? A month? Ever?!</span> [[Push her away.|8FBPushAway][$gut +=3]] [[Scream.|8FBScream][$heart +=3]] [[Pull away.|8FBPullAway][$mind +=3]]
<span class ="flashback">The consequences don't matter, not when allowing the woman to do what she aims to do means that you'll be dead. No more Camila. No more Dante. There will be no more of anything. That fear overpowers any fear the trarkrans have instilled in you, becoming little more than an afterthought as you push the woman away. She is so shocked by this that there is no resistance; her body slides backwards as she trips over her tails, which frantically attempt to keep her on her feet. There is no noise other than her grunt and the knife clattering against the floor. All is silent, and you are too terrified to glance back at your fellow terrans or to look up at the table of trarkrans. The silence prolongs until you finally hear Baroness Devina let out a tired sigh. "That knife better not have scratched my floor."</span> <<include "8FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">The scream is out of your mouth before you can even consider why. You have no clue as to why you chose to scream, but you do so and continue doing so. The scream shifts to a cry as buried emotions rumble to the surface, glad to finally be free. It does not care about its company, just that it finally has an audience to voice its mentality to. Though you do not look at them, you know that your fellow terrans are there, wishing they could do the same, but far too broken, too trained. You scream and cry for all of you. Finally, you begin to stop, your lip quivering, though you make no attempt to calm yourself. "I think you broke it," one of the guests laugh, causing all of them to chuckle. Devina smiles as she takes another sip of her drink, basking in the chaos and entertainment as if someone had simply told a sensible joke.</span> <<include "8FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"No," you mumble in fear, dropping the tray as you yank yourself out of the woman's grip. She stands there frozen, completely shocked that you had done anything. Part of you truly wonders how they view you. Do they see nothing but an alien that is nothing more than an animal? Even that seems far too complicated. You are nothing but toys that can move and talk. The toys advertised to be 'just like you.' Shuddering, you glance at the woman who is only now taking steps backward, her gaze shifting to Devina, whose attention is on her glass.</span> <<include "8FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You are not sure where Overseer Naitene came from, only that one moment you are still in line, and the next, you are being dragged away. He mumbles something about your refractory ways as he yanks you down corridors you have never seen before. Is this where they lead the others when they are to be gifted to another? Or is this where they go to prepare them for death? You have dodged death just to be shoved back into its path. Naitene opens the door, and you find two terrans inside cleaning. He doesn't have to do anything more than show himself before the two skitter away, grabbing everything as they slide past him, both whispering a word that you do not recognize. "Stop," Naitene orders, and they come to a halt. "The rag." One of the cleaners passes it to him, and he tosses it at you. The smell of foreign chemicals invades your nose, and so you carefully maneuver the rag to just catch the blood, nothing more.</span> <a data-passage="8FB.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">It feels like more than thirty minutes pass by with you fidgeting in your spot, fighting the urge to just race out of the sizeable room that feels like its sole job is to suffocate. Months of careful practicing, and here you stand. Months of helping Camila sleep at night, telling her not to fret because you will be there for her. Months of promising Dante that you will not draw her ire and will do what is asked of you and nothing more. Months of doing just that, practically merging with the refulgent walls and becoming one with them, ceasing your existence on this plane. How does one become a wall? You and many others have learned. Until the moments when you were constantly corrected. Devina enters with the grace and command of one who has done this exact thing more times than one can count. Grace … command, you forgot a word—insouciance. "What is ?his name?" she asks, not even bothering to close the door behind her. "$name," Naitene answers. "Job?" "Cleaner." Her eyes move to you, and you finally realize how fish must feel upon seeing an incoming shark. Swimming away is futile; you're already dead. "Today may either be the luckiest day you've experienced thus far, or the worst. I abhor Baroness Jikivia's lessons, but I detest her need to harp on about things even more. So, I allow her to do the former. Seeing her fall due to her own hubris has made my entire cycle. Regretfully, you still acted against a superior, and if I keep you on the line, then I will face my own set of consequences."</span> [[Beg her for mercy.|8FBMercy][$mind +=3]] [[Spit at her.|8FBSpit][$heart +=3]] [[Stay silent.|8FBStaySilent][$gut +=3]]
<span class ="flashback">"Please," you start, not knowing what else to do. You ignore the look that Naitene shoots at you and continue. "I am so sorry, Baroness. I … I overreacted. I didn't know what to expect. Please, have mercy." "?He <<verb "doesn't">> shut up, does ?he?" she asks the Overseer, no trace of humor in her voice. Her tail taps the ground before she sighs. "I must hurry back. Naitene, the decision rests with you." Naitene bows. "I will get ?him caught up with ?his new duties." "See that you do," she starts in a tongue that you are familiar with before switching. You can't even begin to guess what she says due to Naitene's face staying completely neutral. Once she's gone, he motions for you to follow as he leads you out of the room. You travel down halls that become familiar over time, finally stopping at your quarters. "Pack your things, your duties have changed. You will now move with the study u̥kti'mam. Ensure you know what is expected of you." Naitene turns and begins to walk away, leaving you to do all that he asks.</span> <a data-passage="8.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You now have a scar on your right cheek that will never heal and is to be a reminder amongst many.<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">The many thoughts roaming through your mind all culminate in one single action: you spitting in Devina's face. You expect her to shriek like a child who just found out a bug has landed on them. You expect her to order Naitene to take you and tie you to a post so that you can slowly burn or whip you until your back is nothing but bone. Instead, she stares at you calmly, not even blinking. Then, a flash of something as it whips across your face, and only in your shock as your face snaps to the side do you realize it was her tail. The pain takes a while to register. You feel the blood and the ache in your jaw before it sets in, and you realize that the side of your face is now on fire. You stare at the ground as she speaks to Naitene in their language. You do not know what your fate is to be as Naitene grabs your arm and pulls you out of the room. He leads you down halls that become familiar over time, finally stopping at your quarters. "Pack your things, your duties have changed. You will now move with the study u̥kti'mam. Ensure you know what is expected of you." Naitene turns and begins to walk away. "Clean up that wound. If you drop any more blood on Baroness Devina's floor, then she will order you killed."</span> <a data-passage="8.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You have already caused enough trouble for today. Opening your mouth and uttering a single word … reacting like anything more than a doll is unwise. Her tail taps the ground before she sighs. "I must hurry back. Naitene, the decision rests with you." Naitene bows. "I will get ?him caught up with ?his new duties." "See that you do," she starts in a tongue that you are familiar with before switching. You can't even begin to guess what she says due to Naitene's face staying completely neutral. Once she's gone, he motions for you to follow as he leads you out of the room. You travel down halls that become familiar over time, finally stopping at your quarters. "Pack your things, your duties have changed. You will now move with the study u̥kti'mam. Ensure you know what is expected of you." Naitene turns and begins to walk away, leaving you to do all that he asks.</span> <a data-passage="8.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/ch_8.png"> <<if hasVisited("7.28Alcohol")>>\ Everything is too loud. Too bright. The fact that the curtains are drawn and the only noise to filter in is the distant sound of the city coming to life does literally nothing to change your mind on the matter. You feel like someone has mistaken your head for a gong and, multiple times throughout the night, tested their mettle against it. The feeling in your gut is even worse. You recall a hit you had been assigned. The intelligence on the target was vastly wrong, and instead of one or two bodyguards, she had acquired what amounted to a small contingent. They managed to get you on the ground and, with such an advantage, began to stomp you. They managed to deliver a relatively large number of kicks to your head. This. This feels like that. "$hound," you cry out pathetically, flopping around on the bed like a fish who has realized that this will be their last day alive. You shout the name again, finally hearing the near-silent footfalls of the creature, and soon the feeling of his head against your hand. You had been poised to say something goofy, but the understanding that this may truly be your last day hits you hard. What will you do with $hound? The first few days with Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl <</if>>may be fine, but what happens when he realizes that you have not returned? Would it be wiser to release him back into the wild? You know some creatures fail to adapt back to such a life, but it has only been a year; perhaps he can. Thankfully, a wave of nausea ends the thought, and you rush to the bathroom, deftly (clumsily) jumping (tripping) over $hound on your way as you barge in and upchuck all of your idiotic decisions. You'd say never again, but see no point in lying when there is a lack of audience members. <a data-passage="8.01"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif hasVisited("7.28Dance")>>\ First off, every part of you feels uniquely sore. A cocktail of misery prepared by someone with no training. Your feet aren't even the most painful; it's your calves and thighs that hurt the most. Last night was a training session in itself, one on balance and humility, if you remember half of the dance moves you decided to perform. It reminds you of a dance game you would play with your siblings back on Genesis, and how, despite the fun, you felt like you had just run a mile. Rayna was the best at it, a fact that she openly shared every time one of you would boot the game up. And if she was not there to remind you, her name plaguing the high-score list took up the mantle with glee. <<include "8.01">> <<else>>\ <<if hasVisited("7.28Kiss_NoSex")>> Waking up, the first thing you feel is the soreness of your lips. It feels like they competed in round after round and lost each one. You suppose that is partially true. The number of people you kissed last night, you are only surprised you did not anger another, and end the night in a fight. <<include "8.01">> <<else>>\ Awaking in a strange bed, at a strange time, with a complete stranger dozing soundly next to you seems to be the key ingredients for a headache. Rubbing your eye, you stretch and gaze around for the clothes that you know surely aren't on you. //Did you pay for a room? Why would you waste solars on that//, you wonder as you shift, getting out of bed and finding your clothes in a heap near a wall. Whether they were thrown or kicked off the bed will remain a mystery. For all you know, that's where your escapade started. Memories of last night hardly come to you, meaning it was nothing to write home about, or it hardly served as the proper distraction you sought … or both. Seeing that you remember all too well <<if hasVisited("7.28OZihr") or hasVisited("7.28OChecl")>>who was on your mind,<<else>>what you were trying to futilely escape,<</if>> you will count it as a failure. With all of your things either in hand or back on your person, you leave without a second glance at the person still slumbering peacefully. Outside, you use your terminal to request a sky cab to come to your current location. Yawning, you run through how much trouble you may get into for not reporting to your quarters. If you were going to get kicked out, who cares, but if there was a chance that you were safe … well, you might've just fucked that up for a one-night stand. //Better to get some now because I won't be anytime soon.// The thought pulls a snort and nothing more. Thankfully, the cab is quick, and you have a relatively peaceful ride back to the headquarters. Those at the reception desk give you knowing glances, as if they know something you don't, even though that can't be the case … or maybe it is, your mind is still back in that room, deciding if you should have gotten breakfast and cleaned the smell of after-sex off yourself. On your floor, you walk to your room, slowing when you see the gathering outside your door. //Fun.// <a data-passage="8.01"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
<<if hasVisited("7.28Oral")>>\ <<if hasVisited("7.28OChecl")>>\ Your eyes land on Checl, and every dumb, paltry thing you did last night revisits you. A shiver claims your spine as you so easily remember those very same eyes staring up at you as they sought to undo you. Only, they weren't her eyes and no amount of silent hoping or imagination was going to change that. "$name?" Checl asks, a tinge of worry in her voice, and you clear your throat, shaking your head as if that will clear all your sins. <<elseif hasVisited("7.28OZihr")>>\ Your eyes land on Zihr, and try as you might to fight the heating of your cheeks, you fail. Regardless of the truth, you had envisioned him on his knees last night, servicing you and doing a damn good job of it. Rewarded with another's actions, all due to your debauched sense of imagination. "$name?" he asks, sounding as if he's both nervous and curious about whatever has caused you to stare at him. You scoff, shaking your head as if that will clear all your sins. <<else>>\ <</if>>\ Nodding to the door, you will them to clear you a path with the motion alone. <<if $humor >=50>>"What is this? An intervention?" you snort.<<else>>"Can I help you <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>>?" you inquire.<</if>> "Where were you?" Zihr inquires and you ignore the question just like he did yours. "What do you want?" "Morning consumption invitation," Ne0 answers. You don't bother to hide the suspicion from your tone, raising a brow. "Oh, is that right?" "Sometimes all you have to do is agree," Zihr grumbles. "Not everything needs to be met by suspicion." You know none who would describe you as something other than chary. <<else>>\ A knock on the door grabs your attention and results in you pausing your moping so that you can get to your feet and trudge over. You can only pray that it is not <<if $sinRoPo >=1>>Vittorio; otherwise, you know what he'll have to say, and it is far too early for that. Sin brings an entirely new kind of issue. Their words on the roof echo in your mind, and you're unsure if you're ready to face them or the conversation that will ensue.<<else>>Sin or Vittorio, otherwise you know what they will say, and it is far too early for that.<</if>> Pressing the button to open the door, you raise a brow at the crowd now amassed at your door. <<if hasVisited("7.28OChecl")>>\ Your eyes land on Checl, and every dumb, paltry thing you did last night revisits you. A shiver claims your spine as you so easily remember those very same eyes staring up at you as they sought to undo you. Only, they weren't her eyes and no amount of silent hoping or imagination was going to change that. "$name?" Checl asks, a tinge of worry in her voice, and you clear your throat, shaking your head as if that will clear all your sins. <<elseif hasVisited("7.28OZihr")>>\ Your eyes land on Zihr, and try as you might to fight the heating of your cheeks, you fail. Regardless of the truth, you had envisioned him on his knees last night, servicing you and doing a damn good job of it. Rewarded with another's actions, all due to your debauched sense of imagination. "$name?" he asks, sounding as if he's both nervous and curious about whatever has caused you to stare at him. You scoff, shaking your head as if that will clear all your sins. <<else>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $humor >=50>>"Intervention?" you snort.<<else>>"Can I help you <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>>?" you inquire.<</if>> "Come on," Zihr starts, motioning for you to follow, "we're about to go eat breakfast, and you're joining." "Oh, is that right?" "Sometimes all you have to do is agree. Not everything needs to be met by suspicion." You know none who would describe you as something other than chary. <</if>>\ "What's really going on?" you question. "We need to discuss what happens if they decide to send you back to prison," <<if $cp>>Checl<<else>>Zihr<</if>> answers. You're not sure what there is to discuss. Groups of two and three hunters exist. You hold little doubt that your absence will change anything<<if $leader is "Zihr">>, especially since Zihr is already the leader.<<else>> besides naming Zihr as the new leader.<</if>> But you also can't say you're stunned, and so with a deep sigh, you nod. "Give me a minute to get ready." You motion for the door to close before any of them can say anything more. Yawning, you get yourself together. Clothes, teeth<<if $beard is "none" or $beard is "nb">>, and <<if $length is "bald">>scalp<<else>>hair<</if>>.<<else>>, <<if $length is "bald">>scalp<<else>>hair<</if>> and beard.<</if>> Finishing, you're about to leave the bathroom behind when your eye re-catches your appearance in the mirror. [[Move on.|8.01MoveOn]] [[Take a minute.|8.01Minute]]
You know what will be staring back at you if you dare take a longer look. If you were ever given the option to not have one, you might very well choose that. There is no reason to be afraid of one's reflection, and you're not entirely sure that's the case for you. But there is something there, something that stirs deep within whenever you see yourself. Possibly because it's not you. It's someone created. Someone mutilated past all kinds of recognition. You feel more like you're staring into the eyes of a doppelgänger who doesn't quite understand ?his job. ?He <<verb 'wears'>> your face, but that's where the similarities end. ?His smile is not what it used to be, ?his eyes are not yours, ?his body and presence so drastically different that you're leery concerning their so-called reference. And … And you need to go. Finally, you leave the bathroom behind and head back to the others. <a data-passage="8.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your forward momentum dies as you stay rooted to the spot, examining yourself. At first, you're not exactly sure what you're doing; if there's a specific thing you're trying to catch or uncover. The you that you stare at is the same one from a week ago, a month ago … albeit far cleaner. Since your time here, you have been able to take daily baths, see to your hygiene, and focus on things that you could not while in the Outlands. <<if $length is "bald">>Just like your face and skin, your hair suffered under the suffocating, dry, wasteland air. You didn't have any products to help moisturize it, and dead skin and clogged pores became something you constantly had to deal with. Now, at least, it feels like the top of your head can properly breathe.<<elseif $hair is "dreads">>Able to actually get the right products for conditioning, as well as having time for such a thing, allowed you to moisturize and re-lock your dreads. All that sand and dirt from the Outlands seemed to have found their way into some of your growth. The day you washed and oiled it, it felt like a relief before you set about twisting it back up.<<elseif $hair is "braids">>You have unbraided and rebraided your hair, but not with the proper products. Since being here, you have been able to take care of your hair the appropriate way.<<elseif $hair is "curly" or $hair is "kinky">>Your hair got some much-needed love since, in the Outlands, you could never detangle your hair like you wanted. A lack of products, dry, itchy air, and a comb that adored the game of hide and seek made such a practice hard to keep up. Since joining, you have been able to actually pay it some mind.<<else>>Though you could comb it out and keep it marginally orderly, kempt did not mean healthy. At least that is in the past; your bathroom counter now contains an assortment of products to keep your hair healthy.<</if>> <<if $beard isnot "none">>Thankfully, being back in immense society has allowed you to also tend to a beard that has been vastly reduced to the idea of I'll tend to it when I remember.'<</if>> <<if $tattoo is "none">>\ Your eyes travel over <<if $scars is "none">>mostly unblemished skin. The only thing that destroys that notion are the colored markings that frame the side of your face, traveling down your jaw to your neck, and then continuing to your arms where they finally vanish at your elbows.<<else>>the numerous scars you have and how they each tell their own story. Each possessing lessons that you learned, or at least should've. But then rest the colored markings that frame the side of your face, traveling down your jaw to your neck, and continuing to your arms where they finally vanish around your elbows.<</if>> <<else>>\ Your eyes travel over the <<if $tattoo is "several">>various tattoos you have accumulated over the years. Each telling a story in their own way, both insignificant and vital to your life's story.<<else>>few tattoos you have accumulated over the years. Their designs tell an abbreviated story of your life.<</if>> <<if $scars is "few" or $scars is "several">>They behave much like the scars you possess, each telling a different story from a lesson you may not have learned entirely. <<else>><</if>>But none plague you worse than the colored markings that frame the side of your face, traveling down your jaw to your neck, and then continuing to your arms where they finally vanish around your elbows. <</if>>\ Markings worse than any scar, than any bruise, or any other natural blemish that your skin can sport. It mars you in more ways than just physical, a stain on your psyche that you can only pray can be healed or removed, even if everything within knows better. It has made you something you don't understand and has influenced the way others view you. Has influenced the way you view yourself. The beginning of it all ... and something deep within confirms that it will also mark the end. You tear your eyes away from the reflection in disgust, leaving the bathroom behind and rejoining the others. <a data-passage="8.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
No one says anything as you trek down the hallway and to the elevator. <<if $cp>>Peering at their individual faces—save for Ne0's—you try and spot their doubt, fear, escalation, but both of their faces remain neutral at best.<<else>>Peering at Zihr, you try to figure out what he may be thinking, attempting to try and spot his doubt, fear, escalation, but he provides you with nothing.<</if>> The mess functions as usual, hunters filtering in and out as they start or conclude breakfast. Still, most of the tables are occupied, hardly giving any of you a choice. <<if $cp>>All three of them head towards separate lines, leaving you to make a choice.<<else>>Zihr and Ne0 split up, heading towards different lines and leaving you to make a choice.<</if>> [[You're not hungry. Pick a table.|8.02PickTable]] [[Grab some food. May be the last time.|8.02GrabFood]]
With everything that happened yesterday and has yet to become your present, you're not feeling very hungry. You understand that the choice may come back to bite you in the ass when you're staring at prison food that's the color of mold and exists in sludge form, but you doubt you can keep anything down. Instead, you turn your attention to the free tables, choosing one that's relatively private and heading towards it. <<include "8.03">>
You should eat, it may very well be the last time you consume a decent meal. One of these moments, you'll stop adding 'it'll be your last' to everything you do, probably when you gain confirmation that it //was// your last. Going to the levo-amino side, you grab a plate, and waste no time stacking it high with food you know you will enjoy. No care for experimentation. <<include "8.03">>
Once everyone is at the table, you watch as they fall into what you can only perceive to be a habit, immediately discussing life and hobbies. <<if $cp>>They laugh and joke about things that you were not privy to, swapping stories that have probably been retold at least a dozen times, and giving their advice on things you either find inconsequential or just disagree with. Either way, it's a constant reminder of what you are not a part of. You know that is due by your hand alone, no one to blame but you, but it doesn't make it easier to swallow.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.02GrabFood")>>As you desultorily poke at the food<<else>>As you watch them<</if>>, it finally hits you that this may be the last time you see them. After a year of surviving with them, and this could be it. <<if $ticketforone>>Though, you can't actually be 100% sure of that. You thought the same thing when you were walking past the guards and into Taouron's security check, Checl and Zihr both glaring at your back.<</if>> [[Better now than later.|8.03BetterNow]] [[You … you will miss them if so.|8.03WillMissThem]]
You would rather this happen now than a few months from now. A few more months of wanting to be included in something never meant for you. Wishing for something new and growing used to it. No. Even with all the problems that may come from such a change in plans, it is still better than remaining here with them. With those who bring out your weakness. You need to remember Tsering and the Dinami. The mysterious person who attacked you on the street. Your revenge and the answers that you must receive. Perhaps they will be here when you are done … that thought pulls out a chuckle. <<include "8.04">>
No matter how much you tell yourself that you shouldn't, you do. No matter how much you tell yourself that every choice has been one of stupidity, you still make them. Perhaps this will be good for all of you. You were never meant to live this life, and even though you probably would change a few things, this life is more of a dream than a reality. Friends that seem to want you around, a job that keeps the population safe … There is a simplicity to it all that you—a Terran Geniser—were never meant to experience. <<include "8.04">>
Great. You're giving yourself another headache. "So," you abruptly say, attempting to hide your agitation but knowing you fail. Your tone clearly illustrates just how displeased you are. The only thing it shrouds is the target of your vexation. "What is there to discuss about my possible termination?" "Mostly ways that we can avoid it," Zihr admits, ignoring the look of shock you give them <<if $cp>>all<<else>>both<</if>>. "We don't know how the process goes. Maybe we can speak on your behalf." "And tell the Superior Commander what?" you snort. "Tell her that you're going to watch for your trigger-happy terran teammate. That you're going to make sure ?he never <<verb "fires">> another gun." "$name," Zihr warns. "The answer is no. The Supreme Commander won't call any of you for testimonials because there's nothing <<if $cp>>any<<else>>either<</if>> of you can say to change the facts." You shrug. "Another bounty dead. And an entire bar full of witnesses that saw me freak out before doing so." <<if $cp>>\ "Why did you freak out?" Checl questions. "I always suspected that you have trauma, <<if $moran_xeno>>and you never really were a big fan of trarkrans, <</if>>but I wouldn't have guessed it to be //that// bad. You always seemed to possess more …" <<else>>\ "About that," Zihr starts. "What happened? I've seen you freak out. Go off the rails, break down … but never to that degree. Usually, you seem to possess more …" <</if>>\ "Tact?" you hum questionably and though <<if $cp>>she<<else>>he<</if>> doesn't verbally say that you are right, <<if $cp>>she<<else>>he<</if>> gives a look that says as much. You remain silent, even if you want to agree with <<if $cp>>her<<else>>him<</if>>. It's always odd to remember that your maltreatment didn't begin with the Dinami but the trarkrans. So much so that you doubt you would have survived the trials of the Dinami if it wasn't for what the Baron and Baroness put you through. First, your emotions and feelings. Then, your body, until your mentality was all that stood between you and permanent dissociation. Now, you're not quite sure if it still stands or not. For so long, life has been just a series of wants and plans to achieve them. Some were hastily thrown together at the last minute, while others were meticulously perfected after months of information gathering. "So what can we do?" Zihr inquires. [[“Nothing.”|8.05Nothing]] [[“Continue on like normal.”|8.05ContinueOn]] [[“Think of an escape plan.”|8.05ThinkOfEscape]]
"Nothing," you state. "If the Supreme Commander wants to get rid of me, then that's what she'll do. If she has even the slightest bit of hope that I'll get better, then she'll keep me on." "Which do you think is more likely?" Your mind goes back to your last conversation. <<if $nightwalkers >=50>>She hadn't been too fed up with you, nor did she seem to dislike you. Granted, such impressions may have changed, but something inside of you wants to say that you'll get one more chance. But then, you also have to remind yourself who you killed. It wasn't just some woman or just some trarkran. Her presence was needed in another organization, so you fucked it up for them as well.<<else>>She hadn't been your biggest fan, and if she could have, you probably would have been kicked out right then and there. No, you fail to see her giving you another chance.<</if>> But, you don't tell them that. You simply remain quiet. <<include "8.05">>
"Continue on like normal. Like nothing has changed or will." <<if $cp>>\ "You can't possibly think that's what we'll do," Checl voices, but then she stops, shaking her head, her mandibles trembling. "No. Of course, that is exactly what you think we'll do. I keep forgetting who I'm talking to." You really aren't used to Checl being this pissed off with you. Zihr, yes. But not Checl. You've angered her in the past but never to this extent. <<if $ticketforone>>She was less upset about you leaving her behind in the Outlands!<</if>> <<else>>\ "Why does it sound like you don't care?" Zihr asks, his head cocked to the side as if the new angle will provide him with a better idea of what you're thinking. "Because you jump to conclusions more often than not. There's nothing you can do, so stop worrying about it. <</if>>\ <<include "8.05">>
You snort, more so mumbling the words, "Think of an escape plan." <<if $cp>>"$name," Checl chastises, and you simply shrug. Of course, she would grow shy at the thought, and though you had been mostly kidding, a small part of you was serious. Three brains were better than one.<<else>>"You and I both know that won't help your situation," Zihr points out, and you simply shrug. You had been expecting him to say something along those lines. You were mainly kidding, but a small part of you was serious. Two brains were better than one.<</if>> If one of them could think of a way to get you out of this if it all turned belly-up, you won't argue. But of course, that was if they would even entertain you. Zihr, not at all.<<if $cp>> And Checl would need persuading, but in the end may try to at least come up with something.<</if>> Ne0 is the only one you know for sure who would provide you with concise plans that have a possibility of working. Or, it'll simply tell you that there is no probable outcome and you're destined to live behind bars until the Dinami manage to hear what has happened to you. <<include "8.05">>
The conversation begins to drift back to everyday subjects, leaving you sitting there, deep in your own thoughts. The idea of everything falling apart is heavy on your mental, and try as you might to abandon the thought or come to terms with it, you can't. Whether or not this is an example of how comfortable you've become, you're not sure, nor do you care to dig deeper to find out. "Moran." Turning, you see Vittorio standing there, a sullen look on his face as he regards you. "Come with me." When was the last time you had anything akin to a hearing? In the Dinami, <<if $dinami >=50>>you were usually on your best behavior. Incurring the wrath of one of your superiors was always imbecilic, and the few times it did happen saw you either on the floor or back on the racks.<<else>>you had far too many of them. Most of the time, they wished to discuss your actions over your behavior. It seemed that they cared little when members ran their mouths, but when you showed any sign of forgetting your place, that was when they felt it vital to step in and remind you of your position. Hands and knees, begging for scrap that another has already had their fill of.<</if>> Regardless, you did try your hardest to avoid such dealings. But at least you knew what those would entail. You understood that either you would be dismissed with a warning or a reminder, or you would face punishment. This, however, is not the Dinami. They either let you stay on or walk you out to a prison shuttle that will take you back to Phante. Back in the Dinami, it was your superiors, the Hands, who made these decisions, not the Hoods. They had far better things to do and only inserted themselves in the more crucial hearings. If they attended your hearing, then the probability of you dying went up tenfold. They were as much as an omen as they were symbols of the highest tier of the echelon. <a data-passage="8.06"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Who will oversee this hearing, you ponder. The Supreme Commander alone could, but you are highly unsure how she will rule, especially when this isn't the first time she's had to speak to you. Then, there is the chance that she's absent and you'll find yourself in front of a Council of Commanders or something akin, probably worse chances than if it is solely up to the Supreme Commander. Sin's words resurface when you were still being evaluated. They had told you that they were unsure of your presence. Back then, you were only thought to be a threat, more a mystery than anything else. You have thus shown them who you are, and they may very well come to the conclusion that for the safety of everyone, you are better off away. Truly, if ruled not in your favor, what will you do? [[Crash the prison shuttle.|8.06PrisonShuttle]] [[Prison break?|8.06PrisonBreak]] [[Make a run now.|8.06RunNow]]
Far easier said than done. The chances of you doing that are lower than your chances of survival when you landed in the Spires. Their destinations are predetermined, and if anything were to happen, they could be remotely controlled. You'd have to hack the mainframe and then figure out how to drive the damn thing while also making sure to lock anyone else out. And that's just gaining control. What happens after you crash it? How far can you get when they place the bounty on your head? Dinami and the Nightwalkers are all hoping to get to you first. The Dinami sent Tsering after you. You wonder if the Nightwalkers will have a similar kind of humor and send your team. Shaking your head, you swallow a nervous chuckle. You really need to learn how to be less exciting. <<include "8.07">>
A prison break can work, though the window between arriving and being put into a cell is far too minuscule. The chances of getting shot are high, though, and you have even heard of some places drugging their prisoners before they leave the shuttle. Therefore, the entire idea has become too risky. Too many question marks and ellipses. <<include "8.07">>
There is always the possibility of making a run for it now. It's only Vittorio, and though it will probably only feed into everyone's mindset surrounding your cockiness, you have a feeling you can easily overpower him. Grab $hound, anything you absolutely need, and then walk out and disappear. By the time they realize you're late for the hearing and come across Vittorio, you should be long gone. And then what? You snort at that. You're back to the exact same position you were upon entering Taouron, but now the Nightwalkers will be searching for you. The idea of the Dinami //and// the Nightwalkers tracking you down does not appeal to you. <<include "8.07">>
"$name?" Vittorio questions, pulling you out of your thoughts as you look from him to the room that he's currently gesturing to. It would be easy, would it not? Knock him out, drag him to some empty storage closet, and then get the hell out of here. Sighing, you rap your knuckles on the door and soon hear a muffled 'enter.' Only two people are within; four, if you now count yourself and Vittorio, who closes the door behind you. He takes a seat beside Sin while Supreme Commander Mahgunta watches you from behind her desk. Everything is sleek, that stainless and shimmering slate and cerulean that the higher rank trarkran loves so much. The epitome of trarkran perfection. You want to vomit. From the appearance to the smell that lingers in the air, it all reminds you of Miarilia and the Baron's own office. Save for the material of the walls and floor, and the dome-like curves and spheres that make up the architecture. Surprisingly, that one was far more cozy. Even with all of the dissected animals and notes about anatomy, it still felt … //Stop//, you warn yourself, practically pleading for your thoughts to abandon any train of thought that ends with that man. "$name Moran," the Commander starts, pulling up a screen connected to her desk. "Due to this not being a formal hearing, you are allowed a few opportunities that others would not typically see. Before I make my decision, I will hear your defense. Being your commanding officer and handler, I am allowing Commander Sin and Vittorio to remain to provide further evidence to back up or … refute, your claims. I have already heard their thoughts on whether or not you should remain." You fight the urge to look over at the two of them, not entirely sure what either would say, and whether you would really call it a defense. "Begin." A defense. A reason for you to stay. Something substantial enough to keep you off a prison transport and remain a bounty hunter. [[“I have nothing to say.”|8.07NothingToSay][$nightwalkers +=1]] [[“Play on my strengths, not my weaknesses.”|8.07StrengthsWeakness]] [[“I'm trying.”|8.07Trying][$nightwalkers -=1]]
"I have nothing to say," you admit. "$name," you hear Sin say behind you, their tone sounding more like a bewildered warning. The Supreme Commander simply laughs, her tesi rocking back and forth as she calms herself. "You have nothing to say in your defense." She crosses her arms across her desk as she leans in. "I find that telling." You shrug. "What is there to add? Let's be honest, you've made up your mind. If you want to see me go, then no defense in the world is going to keep me here. Allowing me to come up with some bullshit excuse is just killing the matter with kindness. What should my defense be?" You turn in your seat to see if Sin will answer. When they don't, you turn back to focus your attention on the Supreme Commander. "There's nothing that I can say that'll even make for a good defense. So, just tell me what you decided." She stares at you for a while, as if everything you just said was the defense. Perhaps, if you twist it a bit, it could be. Either way, you stand firm on your decision to just get an answer and move on. Hopefully, everything works out. Tsering may still be in the area. If he gets wind that you're on that police transport, he may stop it. No, you know for a fact that he'll stop it. From there, you'll just have to hope that you can overwhelm him or form some kind of plan on your way to the Dinami. <<if $tserRoPo >=2>>Part of you even would like to think that you can persuade him to let you go, but you highly doubt that possibility. You still don't know why he betrayed you but there is proof that he followed through with such actions while still feeling strongly for you. No, it would be utterly idiotic to rely on emotions.<</if>> <a data-passage="8.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I believe the fault lies in the hunts that I constantly find myself on." "Please do explain," she hums. "You continuously give me hunts that lean on my weaknesses; maybe two or three have leaned on my strengths." "Your strengths being killing people? So, if I do understand this correctly, you want me to only give you and your team hunts that are filed under 'Dead or Alive' or 'Dead.' All because you fail to understand how to end a hunt with the suspect alive. Is this correct?" Yes, but you can see the holes after she laid it all out. Still, some hunters may find themselves a pacifist, that 'all life is sacred' bullcrap. Would they judge those hunters the same way they are currently judging you? <<if $smarts >=10>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $nightwalkers +=1>><</nobr>>\ You snap your fingers, just remembering something about shaphs that may help your case. Turning in your seat, you look at Sin, who seems far too interested in what you are planning to say. "Commander Sin, tell me, don't the majority of shaphs have a pacifistic view?" "Mainly those from Stronoe, but it is not odd for other shaphs to feel something akin to it." "Do you?" Their smile tells you everything you need to know. "Yes." "You have shot people before, Commander Sin," the Supreme Commander states, but Sin clicks their tongue. "Yet I have never killed anyone. I use concussive rounds only. I believe everyone is due a just trial." You prepare to make that your talking point when the Supreme Commander raises her hand. "I see where you're going with this, $name. Fine. Point taken. But you forget that you are part of a team. If you were an individual hunter, I would end the conversation there, but you did not let others take the lead on a hunt that you surely knew was non-lethal. Or, do you wish to tell me that your entire team is also filled with killers or that they are just too ineffectual for you to leave such a task to them?" She has you. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>Especially since Zihr is the leader, and agreeing with the latter would mean bringing into question your own sanity for allowing such an inadequate person to claim such a position.<</if>> You shrug and answer honestly. "I just trust my own judgment more than others. That part is on me. I'm not exactly used to working in a team." <<else>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $nightwalkers -=1>><</nobr>>\ "Do you judge the pacifist hunters the same way?" She snorts. "How many pacifist hunters do you think we get? Most //pacifists// don't choose to go into a violent profession. Or is your defense that serial killers are more prone to join us and therefore need leniency?" "My point is that I was trained to kill. I wasn't trained to give those I go after leniency or the benefit of the doubt. I wasn't trained to incapacitate, I was trained to terminate." Part of you wonders how much information that sentence alone gave Sin to work off of, but it didn't matter. Either they were close enough to guessing what your last profession was, or it didn't matter because you were going to wind up on a prison transport. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="8.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I'm trying." "$name," the Supreme Commander chuckles, shaking her head as she levels you with a steely gaze. "Is that your defense? Are you choosing to go with that?" You remain quiet; you suppose you could've thought up something more substantial, but you hardly know what to say. When was the last time you've been in a situation like this? Getting into trouble with the Baroness was simple; whether you did it or not, whether you kicked and screamed or stayed completely quiet, you were going to be punished. The Dinami wasn't much better; at least they let you fight your way out of trouble. The last person standing found themselves still punished, but they saw the next day. It didn't matter if you had a solid defense; all that mattered was your ability to take out the person they placed beside you. <a data-passage="8.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is that all you have to say for yourself, $name Moran?" <<if $humor >=50>>"Besides this whole thing feeling like bullshit? Yea, that's it."<<else>>"Yep," you answer, making sure to pop the 'p' as you glare at her.<</if>> <<if $moran_xeno>>\ "Vittorio. Baloren. Leave us." Vittorio seems all too eager to do just that while Sin hesitates, glancing from you to the Supreme Commander. In the end, they say nothing as they simply nod, rise, and leave the room. The door hardly has time to seal before she starts. "I know what you are," she starts, and you stiffen but refuse to allow such incredulity to appear. "I care not for what terrans call it, but in my language it is known as mu̥l lum roti-al." "One who lacks," you hum, quickly translating before she can. You'd say the look of shock is one you will savor, but that will just be another lie. It would appear that her words are empty; she knows nothing. "I know very well what you call those like me. Just as I assume why so many of those //like// me, feel such a way about the likes of you." "Do you remember what I said during the meeting of the new recruits?" [[“Yes.”|8.08Yes]] [[“I don't care.”|8.08IDC]] [[“No, please remind me.”|8.08RemindMe]] <<else>>\ "This, $name, is your last chance. You bring this bounty in, or you pack your bags. Understand?" [[“Yes, ser.”|8.08YesSer][$nightwalkers +=5]] [[“Sure.”|8.08Sure][$nightwalkers -=3]] [[Stay silent.|8.08StaySilent][$nightwalkers -=8]] <</if>>\
"Yea, I remember." "Are you sure, because your behavior says differently." "You asked if I remember, not if I believed or agreed with it." <<include "8.08.1">>
"Permission to speak freely?" "You've been doing it since you entered." "I don't care what you said that day. I really don't. Not that day or the day after or today." <<include "8.08.1">>
"No, please remind me. I feel like you're craving to do so." <<include "8.08.1">>
"Yes, ser." "Then dismissed." <<include "8.09">>
"Sure." She raises a doubtful brow, prompting you to roll your eyes. "You possess an irreverent attitude towards your superiors. See that you add that to the list of things that you need to correct." You hear one of the two people behind you snort, your money on Vittorio, primarily due to Sin having far too much discipline to have done so. "Now. Get out of my office." You have to bite down on your tongue to keep from saying 'gladly.' <<include "8.09">>
You choose to stay quiet, keeping your eyes on the large painting of some grassy alien planet behind her as her words slam into you. Why couldn't they just give you an either/or bounty? None of this would have happened if you had just received a bounty that could be brought in dead or alive. <<include "8.09">>
"Watch. Your. Mouth. I have had it with your xenophobic views. So yes, let me remind you. I have no patience for it, nor do I allow it in //my// organization. If you can't be a professional, tell me now so I can call the transport to take you back to the hole you were going to be thrown into. See if I lose any sleep." Your mouth closes, unable to say much without fear of her actually following through on her declaration. "I don't care who you were before this. I don't care about the story behind you or those markings. What I do care about are the lives of those within these walls and the rules I have purposely put in place to ensure everything runs smoothly. You are turning out to be less of a cog and more of a rock. Do you understand where this is going?" Your mouth remains closed. "Answer me," she shouts. She's practically steaming, glaring at you with fire in her eyes. The indications of an awakened moi̥ become visible, the rampant energy just barely noticeable, resembling that of vapors more than something tangible. A smart individual would have the nerve to appear intimidated, a wiser person would simply answer her and try to bring this entire confrontation to an end. You have never truly claimed to be either. [[“I do. Who cares?”|8.08WhoCares]] [[“Then do what you have to do.”|8.08DoWhatYouHaveToDo]] [[“Yes.”|8.08Yes2]]
"I wonder how many people truly care or even believe what you said? So many of your seniors have already expressed their concerns and grievances about me, all based solely on my appearance. So why should I care when none of them seem to?" "Do not pull the conversation away from yourself in this very moment. Your issue with them is not the same as the one you have with me. And because of that issue, your lack of respect is made ever the more overt." "I see. You're hoping that I'll lose my xenophobic views overnight? I'll wake up and just forgive your entire species for what it did to me, my family, neighbors, and countless other Genisers." "I am //telling// you to get over it, at least when you're in front of me. Learn respect or get your ass out of my organization. You can have as many pity wars as you see fit, but as long as you're standing on ground that I've helped to cultivate, you're going to bury that shit so deep that not even the best mining team in the cluster has a clue where to start." You glare at her and she back at you. "Am I excused?" She slowly lowers herself back into her seat. "Indeed." You practically leap out of the seat and make for the door. You need to introduce space right now and get as far away from her as possible. From what you gathered, you're still in the organization. A fact you probably have Sin to thank for. Either she saw you more as an asset than she lets on, or Sin has batted for you, and her respect for them is stronger than you initially believed. Still, why would Sin care so much? <a data-passage="8.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes, I understand fully. Do what you have to do, Supreme Commander, because my views aren't going to just vanish overnight because //you// said so." "I don't give a damn about your views. You are one lucky terran because that shaph that walked out of here a few ticks ago believes in you so damn much. Forget about me for a moment, I'm sure that'll be easy enough for you. If I send you away right now, would you even feel bad for Sin? Commander Sin, who has practically put their career on the line because of some nonsensical hope in you. Let me remind you," she starts, shifting in her seat so that she's now leaning closer to you. "This is a bounty hunter organization, not a choose your pet project. I don't care about anything that makes you, //you//. Even more so because you have proven to be nothing but a foul-tempered liability. "Now. This is your last chance. And when I say last chance, I mean very last chance. If you fail to bring in this next bounty, then that's it. I don't care if you have to beg them. Bring them in or don't even bother coming back, because you would do better just making a run for it." You stiffen, hearing everything she doesn't say. She'd probably lead the damn hunt herself if you tried that. "Dismissed." <a data-passage="8.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes, I understand." She seems shocked that you answered so simply. In a way, you're just as shocked, but you can see how on edge she is. Ignoring how you feel about her and her species, you need to remain here. You need the safety, the access, and to a point, the connections. Ruining that because you're unable to place your views and attitude to the side would be idiotic, and you're a lot of things, but stupid is far from one of them. "Your next bounty is your last chance. And when I say last chance, I mean very last chance. If you fail to bring them in, then that's it. I don't care if you have to beg them. Bring them in or don't even bother coming back, because you would do better just making a run for it." You stiffen, hearing everything she doesn't say. She'd probably lead the damn hunt herself if you tried that. "Dismissed." <a data-passage="8.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $moran_xeno>>\ "Finished?" Sin questions, glancing from you to the now closed door. "Seeing that I don't have a message asking me to escort you to a police transport, I'm guessing that you aren't finished //here// at least." <<else>>\ You leave with Vittorio and Sin close behind you. Sin closes the door and turns to you. "Can't say that couldn't have gone better, but at least you're still with us." <</if>>\ "So, you didn't know her verdict?" "No. And when it comes to you, I can't guess which way she'll swing." Vittorio clears his throat, nodding towards the hall. "I should go brief ?him then." "Indeed. Come by my office later so that we can further discuss all of this." <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>You catch the hopeful look that Sin spares you. On one hand, you're thankful that Sin has been nothing but open and frank about their feelings for you. But on the other hand, you wish they possessed a bit less openness and a lot more nervousness or even obliviousness. <</if>>You nod, turning your attention to Vittorio, who leads you to the briefing room. Inside, you grab the first seat you come across, hoping this will be quick. <a data-passage="8.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Vittorio says nothing as he begins preparing the information, bringing up the large screen and typing a few commands into his terminal. You watch him for a while, unable to keep from wondering his thoughts on you, or more so, what you are. You have yet to come across a Primer who didn't think themselves better. Even if they smiled and acted friendly, it was something in the way they held themselves, the way they spoke, and the look in their eye that told you all you needed to know. Vittorio's cybernetics were as prominent as any other. He had the usual eye-to-cheek-to-mouth enhancements, coupled with one over his ear and one on his forearm. He may have swapped out other body parts, but since the metal can perfectly reflect skin tones, you may never know. Most allow some of the augment lines to show through, because, of course, with them, the more they have, the better. The idea of exchanging flesh for metal has never quite sat well with you, especially when so many other species have never made that leap. Did it speak to terrans just being naturally weaker? No, it spoke about Primers and their inability to feel special. Genisers can naturally adapt to a wide array of environments, but Primers can't. So they had to play catch-up and dress it up as evolution. The sound of your terminal chiming pulls you back to the matter at hand, and you begin the process of unpacking and pulling up the bounty file. <<if $smarts >=10>>\ "Your target is a criminal named Gon L'Finicik." "A shaph," you interject before even bringing up the info that Vittorio has just sent. He trips over his words, pausing and looking at you with a raised brow. "How do you know that?" "Common naming tradition for shaphs." He continues to stare at you before shaking and placing his attention back on the file. <<if $nightwalkers <50>>\ He grumbles. "You're smart enough to know stuff like that, but not when to shut up and be respectful." <</if>>\ "Gon started off as your typical backroom drug dealer until they came across a way to extract the addictive properties from a mushroom known as Whistle Cap. A highly toxic kind of mushroom that usually infects and kills you long before you can figure out which species of shroom it is. Technically, Whistle Caps don't have medicinal or scientifically significant properties, which is why most scientists have left them alone, but leave it to a shaph to find something in a plant. Gon's product seemed harmless at first, something law enforcement added to the list of things to keep on their radar until it killed a host of people." <<else>>\ "Your target is a criminal named Gon L'Finicik. They started off as your typical backroom drug dealer until they came across a way to extract the addictive properties from a mushroom known as Whistle Cap. A highly toxic kind of mushroom that usually infects and kills you long before you can figure out which species of shroom it is. Technically, Whistle Caps don't have medicinal or scientifically significant properties, which is why most scientists have left them alone, but leave it to a shaph to find something in a plant. Gon's product seemed harmless at first, something law enforcement added to the list of things to keep on their radar until it killed a host of people." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="8.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You hum. "I'm guessing the cops are scared that the drug will hit the streets and there'll be a rash of deaths before they even come close to capturing Gon. So, they want us to find and bring them in?" "Yes, but not quite. They know where Gon is, but …" Vittorio trails off as he types something in, soon bringing up a map with a large red circle. "This is their narrowed search radius. They were going to narrow it down further until the shaph disappeared off their radar. No trace whatsoever." "That's possible nowadays? In Taouron of all places?" "Seems so. They have no idea if their information is still solid. When they injured them, this is the general location they disappeared in. We're sending in three teams, including yours, to bring the shaph back, //alive//." <<if $breed is "blood">>\ "Injured? How badly?" "Why does it matter?" "Were they bleeding?" "I still don't-" "Just answer the question." He seems severely agitated with you, but does as you ask. "Yes, they managed to injure him enough to bleed." "Then you should drop us off wherever that blood is, and quick enough before any trace of it disappears." "Why?" "Because $hound is a blood aiczeots." Vittorio's unshifting expression tells you that he has no idea why that would be important, and you sigh. "Blood aiczeots, sometimes nicknamed vampire hounds, can track someone for miles off of even the smallest bit of blood." He nods in understanding, making a note on his terminal before placing his attention back on you. <<else>>\ "So this is a race?" "No. This is a bounty; it doesn't matter which team brings them in as long as they're brought in." "So I'm in the clear as long as another team brings them in alive?" you question and notice how Vittorio slows his own thinking. "Yea, thought so. A race." The file continues on, but you'll study it later. <</if>>\ "I won't state the obvious, you know how important it is that you bring this target in //alive//." You wonder how much you'll hate that word before this hunt is over. It seems wiser to make a run for it. And yet, if you do that, then what? Where do you go and what do you do? You are without money, without contacts, and to bring it all full circle, they'd probably send your own team after you to bring you back in. Just the thought of Zihr's smug face causes you to plant your feet. It's not that hard. All you have to do is not take point. You have to play more of a support role, even if that makes your head swim. Leaving the room, you check the time. Midday. You have nothing more to do today. Practically an entire day to fill up. //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Some activities will also go differently depending on when they are done. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>>
Any other time, you'd treat this bounty just like any other. But the simple fact is that you can't. This hunt alone answers the question of what's next. Do you continue with the Nightwalkers, or do you start devising plans that hinge on luck and Tsering, of all people? The latter brings a grimace to your face. Not to mention it's the worst-case scenario. If Tsering gets you, then that's it; you're relying purely on luck to see your goals come to fruition. The Dinami, whether they believe Tsering or not, will reward him for bringing you in, and they'll get creative with your punishment. You can't imagine that they'll simply kill you. Rolling your eyes to your thoughts, you focus back on the file. You turn on the television and connect your chip to the screen, letting you see it all on a much larger screen. Gon L'Finicik stares back at you in a pretty decent mugshot. They have the common brown skin tone that most of their species has, though you would describe Sin's as a taupe tone, while this one has a far richer brown. Their eyes are a deep black, and their light grey facial markings are in the shape of two jagged vertical lines, one over each eye. Along with that marking, they have a wicked scar that runs from the lower part of their left eye across their cheek to their ear. Gon wasn't raised on Stronoe but Talanus, a mineral-rich planet in the Lyrae system. The same system as Miarilia, the raza and trarkran homeworld. They were pretty far from home, and as you continue reviewing, you realize that's because they were born into a mining family. As tradition, Gon was a miner who slaved their life away for long hours, mediocre pay, and hazardous conditions. Interesting, as shaphs are one of those species that are very sensitive to poor air quality. The file says they were placed on some kind of 'drug' that would help, but you notice that there's no mention of the drug in question. Something bumps into you, and you glance down to see your attention-craving aiczeots. "Hey buddy," you start, taking a seat and resting a hand on the back of his head. He purrs, making a long huffing-like noise as he pushes his head into your side, demanding more than a hand-to-head connection. You sneer. [[Cover him in kisses.|8.11CoverInKisses][$gonknown to 1]] [[Give him what he demands.|8.11GiveInToDemands][$gonknown to 1]] [[He deserves belly rubs.|8.11BellyRubs][$gonknown to 1]]
You don't give him pets, but something else entirely. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lock a non-squirming opponent in place before raining down a barrage of kisses. You make sure to be noisy about it too, exaggerating every kiss until you stop. He lets out a low purr and shifts, pushing himself further into your hold and possibly hoping that you'll continue your attack. Chuckling lightly, you do, but soon after, place your attention back on the screen. At the same time, one hand lightly runs across his softer underbelly. <<if hasVisited("8.12StudyFileNight")>><<include "8.12StudyFileNight2">><<else>><<include "8.11StudyFile2">><</if>>
He wanted rubs, so you'll give him some. You wrap your arms around his neck and begin to carefully scratch the skin under his chin and neck. After a year of being companions, you have learned to do this efficiently, but it hardly makes the task safe for your fingers. One scratch, too fast or at the wrong angle, and your finger will get caught on a scale. They're not harsh or sharp enough to cause serious damage, but they can cause bleeding, something you've learned plenty of times in the past. Though you slow your pace, you don't stop petting him as you shift your attention back to the screen. <<if hasVisited("8.12StudyFileNight")>><<include "8.12StudyFileNight2">><<else>><<include "8.11StudyFile2">><</if>>
Moving so that there's a bit more room to roll him over, you pat his belly, and he gets the idea. He squirms, readjusting himself so that he's not impaling the floor with his shoulder spike until he's on his side, his belly facing you. You will never truly get over how an apex predator can just be a huge, needy reptilian canine. His ancestors would've seen such a display as him accepting death, the underbelly soft enough for another predator to slice and rip with ease. And here he is, presenting it to you for rubs and scratches. Which, you happily grant. You scour the length of his belly to find the sweet spot, finally finding it tucked in the crevice of his right mid-leg. His <<if $breed is "earth">>stump of a tail wiggling back and forth erratically,<<else>>tail begins to thump against the floor<</if>> while his tongue rolls out of his mouth as he enjoys the attention. You slow your pace, more so patting and rubbing now as your attention shifts to the screen. <<if hasVisited("8.12StudyFileNight")>><<include "8.12StudyFileNight2">><<else>><<include "8.11StudyFile2">><</if>>
Before now, Gon has only ever had minor infractions. Mostly those deeming them an accessory to a crime and being a low-level drug dealer. The issue you're finding with this is how a shaph goes from small time drug dealing to actually creating one. You bring up research on the Whistle Cap mushroom, unsurprised to find that only a handful of papers on its effects exist. A mushroom that was found to have no medicinal or scientifically-significant properties is now being used by a drug dealer with hardly any training in the field. It doesn't exactly make sense. Sure, one can lend credence to the fact that Gon is a shaph, but wouldn't some of the scientists have been as well? Gon has no degrees or schooling, and though they could've researched it, making drugs isn't exactly some DIY after-school activity. One's species can only take them so far; it doesn't make up for knowledge, skill, and interest. <a data-passage="8.11StudyFile3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shake your head. "Not everything is a fucking mystery." And yet, something still bothers you. You scroll further down for anything interesting, but most of that is just a rehash of what Vittorio had told you. You pull up your earlier search for the Whistle Cap mushroom, taking a second glance at all the known symptoms and comparing them to the report. The report is vague, seeing that most of those who took the drug were found dead. This entire thing feels like a dead end. Like you're grasping for straws in hopes of finding treasure that has only been rumored. Going out on a limb, you compare the mushroom to others, and though there are a few that do look identical, it is not enough to solidify your suspicions. In fact, this entire rabbit hole seems pointless when you're still not sure how a miner became a drug dealer in the first place. Something itches the side of your brain, something that you feel is obvious, but you're just not seeing. Something pertaining to the shaph, mushrooms, deaths, and the way they disappeared in today's day and age. All of it holds some connection, but every time you think about it, your brain questions why any of it is important. You decide not to itch it. Most times, these things just come to you; hopefully, it won't come too late. For now, you do something else to fill your time. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Some activities will also go differently depending on when they are done. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
There are a few things you need to take care of, one being picking up $hound's food. While you're out, you might as well check some of the stores and see if they have any new mods in. Making sure the shipment is in, you head out, deciding to visit the mod store first so that you don't have to walk around with the food. You grab a sky car and plot a route to the shopping strip. Only two stores have any worthwhile mods; the rest are for professions or just everyday life. Now that you think about it, you've never actually looked at any domestic mods; you're not even sure what they would be. Your abacus went from a basic C class to an S one with hardly any real tutorial on either. Entering the shop, you decide to … [[Look at the basic mods you still don't have.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]]
After some scrolling, you determine that the wisest path is to start with the rudimentary mods. They'll be the cheapest as well as the foundation to any other mods you get; especially seeing that most mods will require these beforehand. You have $solars solars and there are at least four mods available that you see providing worth. //You can always check out all the mods you have by opening up the right sidebar and selecting the [[loadout image|Sidebar_Loadout]]. This area will also show you your inventory.// <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]]
''Cost: 50 Solars'' It was one of the first mods you got when you were in the Dinami. If a shield and health mod is vital, then ammo mods were right up there. This mod allows any gun, not just plasma guns, to hold a variety of ammo upgrades, allowing you to use anything from inferno rounds to acid rounds. It also allows you to use $hound's toxins if you have them in the canisters. <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11BasicMods2][$mod_ammo to true; $solars -=50]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' The armor comes equipped with shields, but once depleted, they need a moment to recharge unless one has a shield mod. The mod constantly recharges as long as the armor is connected to the wearer's abacus. It also contains a slot and backup shields to reduce the chances of shield failure. There is little conversation to be had on the cons of purchasing such a vital mod. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11BasicMods2][$mod_shield to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' Comes with all combat packages, the same as shields. It works in tandem with armor that has adrenaline and booster slots. Monitoring vitals, it sends a signal to the armor to pump a cocktail of drugs to the wearer to make sure they survive whatever harrowing experience they find themselves in. You're not dumb enough to count how many times it saved you when things got far too dicey. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11BasicMods2][$mod_health to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 60 Solars'' Though it retains its essentiality, it didn't exactly reach the same levels as the shield or health mod. <<if $tech >=10>>For you, it was a necessity. You won't bother counting how often having the mod has helped you get in and out of certain situations. Hacking without it is doable, albeit at such a torpid pace that it would be wiser to just attempt brute force.<<else>>You were never much for hacking. It's not that you fail to see the uses; it's just that you were never the most tech-savvy person. For one to hack, they must know the fundamentals, and the truth is, you didn't know them. Getting the mod could be the first step in figuring that out, but was it worth a buy when others are far more helpful?<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11BasicMods2][$mod_hack to true; $solars -=60]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 50 Solars'' Another disputatious mod. Many will scream until their voice has gone hoarse that the mod is needed, no matter the class of fighter. There are times when one simply needs to disappear, and other moments when it would be far more conducive for an individual to be amidst the action to properly situate and anatomize for the sake of a plan. Others have no issue voicing that with a clever mind; half of that is doable without a cloak, and some wish to call as much attention to them as possible. Both, you can clearly see. <<if $markings is "blue">>Cloak is nice, but it is even nicer when you can do it thanks to biology … or in your case, experimentation. Either way, buying a cloak mod is pointless when you can enter into a stealth mode upon will.<<elseif $class is "sniper" or $class is "hunter">>But due to your chosen style, you have far more need for something like this.<<elseif $class is "engineer">>Due to your chosen style, you can see the argument for and against it far too clearly. It would be nice to be able to set up things and hack what you can without detection, but there are limitations that make it redundant.<<else>>Your chosen style hardly needs a cloak. It would be hilarious to see one's face as you leave the shroud and bash them in the face, but you can find little else to truly justify the purchase.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11BasicMods2][$mod_cloak to true; $solars -=50]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
Purchasing the mod, you figure out if that will be all or if you want to purchase more. <<if $mod_shield>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the shield mod.|8.11Shield]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the health mod.|8.11Health]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|8.11Hacking]]<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|8.11Cloak]]<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|8.11Ammo]]<</if>> [[Look at the more advanced mods.|8.11AdvancedMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
Eventually, you'll need to start going after the more advanced mods. The basics are fine, but they're just that, basic. If you want to actually improve, you'll need these mods more than the others. Looking over what they have, you see a plethora, some of which need basic mods to work, so you'll have to keep an eye out for that. You have $solars solars in your account. //You can always check out all the mods you have by opening up the right sidebar and selecting the [[loadout image|Sidebar_Loadout]]. This area will also show you your inventory.// <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]]
''Cost: 60 Solars'' The absorber mod takes up one of the shield slots and works in tandem with it. If you remember correctly, it can also work with the barrier mod, providing the trait to both the shield and barrier. You also remember some people having an additional mod named Lash that sends some of the absorbed energy back. Many get the mod for the subcategories, as the absorber alone is just a slightly upgraded version of the shield. Useless alone, but powerful when combined with others. <<if solars >=60>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_shield_absorber to true; $solars -=60]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 60 Solars'' The barrier mod takes up one of the shield slots and works in tandem with it. While the shield provides a semi-thick layer of protection around your immediate body, this mod creates a kinetic barrier pushed a few feet away from you. You're not exactly sure if it works off a charge or has a limited lifespan based on the force hitting it. Either way, it helps to provide quick cover and a more open positioning for sniping. <<if solars >=60>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_shield_barrier to true; $solars -=60]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' You wouldn't personally consider this mod advanced, but you're not the one doing the labeling. The booster mod shoots a dose of drugs through you that speeds up recovery. When placed against your own regenerative abilities, it'll damn near heal you enough to make the injury nonexistent. Of course, it has certain limitations. If your hand gets chopped off, then there is no healing for that. Bone fractures may be healable, but a broken one will probably stay that way. <<if $solars >=40[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_health_booster to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' You wouldn't personally consider this mod advanced, but you're not the one doing the labeling. The adrenaline mod shoots a dose of an adrenaline drug through you, making you nigh invincible for a short period. It'll get you out of tough or impossible situations, but once that time is out, you'll probably be knocked out. So, you'll have to be wise with the timing. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_health_adrenaline to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' Needing the overall hacking mod to function, the bypass mod allows you to do exactly as it sounds: bypass systems. Usually, that means security systems and firewalls, but it can also bypass other things, like drones, if needed. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_hack_bypass to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
''Cost: 50 Solars'' Needing the ammo mod to function, the bypass mod allows you to do exactly as it sounds: bypass systems. Usually, that means security systems and firewalls, but it can also bypass other things, like drones, if needed. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11AdvancedMods2][$mod_hack_bypass to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough solars to purchase this mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
Purchasing the mod, you figure out if that will be all or if you want to purchase more. <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_absorber>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Absorber Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the absorber mod.|8.11Absorber]]<</if>> <<if $mod_shield and $mod_shield_barrier>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_shield is false>>You need the shield mod to buy the Barrier Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the barrier mod.|8.11Barrier]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_booster>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Booster Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the booster mod.|8.11Booster]]<</if>> <<if $mod_health and $mod_health_adrenaline>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_health is false>>You need the health mod to buy the Adrenaline Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the adrenaline mod.|8.11Adrenaline]]<</if>> <<if $mod_hack and $mod_hack_bypass>>You already own this mod.<<elseif $mod_hack is false>>You need the hacking mod to buy the Bypass Upgrade.<<else>>[[Buy the bypass mod.|8.11Bypass]]<</if>> <<if $mod_rounds_element>>You already own this mod.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<<elseif $mod_ammo is false>>You need the ammo mod to buy the Element Rounds.<<else>>[[Buy the Element Rounds mod.|8.11ElementRounds]]<</if>> [[Look at the basic mods.|8.11BasicMods]] [[Leave the store.|8.11Errands2]]
With that task completed, you leave and walk to the butcher shop that holds $hound's food. Like always, you send the money as soon as you see the shipment and thank them. Then you call for another sky car to head back to the headquarters. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Some activities will also go differently depending on when they are done. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
<<if lastVisited("8.11StudyFile3") is 1>>Getting out of bed, you perform a quick stretch before walking towards the closet to grab $hound's muzzle. Upon seeing it he hisses but approaches, probably having strong mixed emotions about its meaning.<<else>>Returning to the room, you greet $hound who is currently stretched out on your bed. Your approach garners no response until you head over to the closet and grab his muzzle. His tongue flicks through the air, and though he rises and comes over, he hisses his discontent. You have no doubt that he has strong mixed emotions about its meaning.<</if>> "Would you rather stay in here?" you question as you begin to buckle it around his snout, making sure the straps are on tight enough. You call for a sky car, setting the destination to the shady neighborhood where you had both run into Tsering and met your mysterious assailant. Since then, you have seen neither. You have grown used to the roads and the side streets; some faces have become familiar, albeit they have remained parlous. You have extended your jogging route, pushing further out towards the crystal hills to allow $hound a moment to run unbounded. At times, he'll get a whiff of a junk rat or manage to catch one of the numerous birds in the area. It is all you can do to keep his senses up. As you watch him stretch, leap, dig, and roll around in the dirt, you begin to ponder your relationship. He is not a dog. He's an incredibly intelligent creature that almost became the apex predator of its planet, beaten out solely by the vetix who managed to grow a spine first. Vetix use them as hunting companions but there lies the problem. You are not a vetix with acres of land and constant puzzles to keep such a creature engaged. You have seen vids of all the work they put in, and it simply isn't something you can do in your current predicament or with your resources. The Outlands were better, far more freedom. Here … Will it ever get better? You will go from one cramped space to the next, hoping to adequately accommodate a creature as large and demanding as he. [[Perhaps he would be happier free …|8.11HappierFree]] [[You'll make it work.|8.11MakeItWork]] [[Would he even wish to be without you?|8.11WithoutYou]]
Perhaps … You squint as you look off into the distance. The hills continue on for a few more miles before the neighborhood stops them, and from there, you know the city will begin. To return him to the Spires, or even deposit him on a planet with far more wilderness for him to claim, may be the wiser decision. Your personal feelings should not compromise his health. And yet, there is no denying that you wish to let your selfishness win out. <<if hasVisited("8.12HoundWalkNight")>>\ <<include "8.12HoundWalkNight2">> <<else>>\ <<include "8.11HoundWalk2">> <</if>>\
You're not exactly sure how you will accomplish such a feat, but you will do all that you can to accommodate him. This life is not the one you plan to live forever. After you solve your problems, you will be free to do whatever you wish. Perhaps you can get help from a vetix beast tamer and learn all you can. Or you will retire to the wilds, allowing him to come and go as he pleases. Or—and perhaps the far more appropriate scenario—you will not make it past this year, and none of this will matter. <<if hasVisited("8.12HoundWalkNight")>>\ <<include "8.12HoundWalkNight2">> <<else>>\ <<include "8.11HoundWalk2">> <</if>>\
Picturing the aiczeots happy without you proves itself to be a problem, not with how he acted when you finally got him back. He was excited to see you. The two of you have bonded, and as far as you can tell, aiczeots don't just bond with anyone, and they do not break them simply because. But the problem comes with issues. What happens if you go somewhere he can't follow? If port officials refuse to allow him to travel with you across planets? The thought causes you to cringe. It is far too probable. <<if hasVisited("8.12HoundWalkNight")>>\ <<include "8.12HoundWalkNight2">> <<else>>\ <<include "8.11HoundWalk2">> <</if>>\
But this is a problem for a future $name. One who will probably forget this moment. Whistling, you call $hound back to your side and head back into town. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
Nothing has changed. If anything, this entire ordeal has caused you to start deciding how you'll get out from underneath the hunters. At first, your timetable was at least a year. Get in their good graces, make some money, and build contacts that'll make your entire mission easier. But Tsering and the Supreme Commander have caused you to shorten that to months, maybe even something quicker. Tsering knows what organization you're part of and who knows what else. At any moment, he may decide to strike, having grown bored with his hunt. That's also considering that the Dinami don't send someone else. And now, with the Supreme Commander's eye on you, you doubt successfully completing this hunt will cause her gaze to stray. Continue training. Continue planning. Arriving in the training room, a few others greet you, faces that you have grown used to seeing. A specific circle of you seem to practically live here. You have grown so accustomed to them and their schedule that transitioning between stations has become seamless. You don't know most of their names and most probably don't know yours, but you would be lying if you said their absence wouldn't cause you to pause. A weird thought when you've never felt anything near the same amount of kinship to those in the Dinami. An absence could mean an entire host of things, and their death meant very little. The only faces you remember as constants back then were Tsering, Ceram, and Daenyra. They were practically the only ones you talked to, aside from Ceram. His trarkran roots—even as a hybrid—always proved an issue <<if $moran_xeno is false>>, even though you weren't xenophobic. No, his shit-eating grin just always managed to piss you off on that dumb face of his.<<else>>.<</if>> You shake your head as you register your presence and then decide what to do. [[Go to the simulators.|8.11Simulators][$agility +=5]] [[Go to the practice ring.|8.11PracticeRing][$combat +=5]]
It has practically become a ritual for you. Coming down here and visiting this little corner of the large room. So much so that the other regulars seem to know when to visit it and when not to. Typically, you go for weapon practice, but after weeks of that, you decide to mix it up, at least to give your trigger finger a much-needed rest. The last thing you need to do is practice weapons with the upcoming bounty. Instead, you type in directions for an agility course. The specific one you requested is a chase; it makes little sense for you to do something basic or elementary when you need to be pushed. Deciding on advanced, you begin the simulation. Back on Genesis, there was a game you would play with Dante and Rayna. You'd move an assortment of furniture around the room, turn on some music, and play the "floor is lava" or "quick, it's quicksand." The aim was to not touch the actual floor and only land on the items. Sometimes you'd extend the game outside the room. Taking pillows and throwing them along with you in a race to get downstairs. This was a lot like that. Racing as fast as possible, using the objects nearby to aid your ascent. The main difference is that you're not at home on Genesis and the thing you're trying to avoid isn't lava or quicksand, but a drivval. Each jump and sprint gets quicker. The chase is relentless, and while your muscles grow weaker, it only grows more persistent. You finish, or more so, get caught halfway through the simulation, your breath coming out in quick gasps as the world the simulation built up falls around you. Yea, perhaps you should be focused on these kinds of exercises from here on out. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
You head to the practice ring, fully planning on just dragging over a dummy to work any anger out on. But an approaching vetix changes that. She's the same vetix you were put on a team with back during the trials. You didn't think you'd learn anything more about her but she became one of the faces you grew used to seeing. "Natalus," you greet and she nods, leaning forward on the ring's ropes. "You practicin' with anyone else?" "Not planning on it, want to go a few rounds?" She nods, leaping over the ropes with a heavy thud. "What kind of sparring do you want to do?" you question, continuing to stretch and warm up. "Let's go conditioning. I need to work on some defensive moves." You nod, it'll be helpful for you as well. Continuing through your warm-up, you place your attention on Natalus. She was nowhere near the same kind of opponent that Tsering was, and it would be best not to treat her as such. Yet, you have no doubt that she'll prove herself a sufficient sparring partner. Perhaps it will even give you some insight into areas you need to improve. This'll be the closest you'll get to fighting someone even remotely close to Tsering. It'll have to do. Entering the ring, you follow Natalus' request and act offensively. The first few jabs are tests, both of you getting used to moving and sharpening up your skills to the level you require them for fighting. Once you feel comfortable enough to act, you pause long enough to figure out how you want to come at her. [[Hard and fast.|8.11HardFast]] [[Slow and testing.|8.11SlowTesting]]
You decide to be decisive. Every charge forward is made more so due to instinct than preservation or thought. One part of you understands that you're fighting Natalus, a female vetix who likes to act offensively. She charges into challenges headfirst, literally. From what you have watched, she's more of a battering ram than a fighter. But another part keeps trying to imagine Tsering adopting this style too. At the very least, you can say that you can never see it. Whether due to the Dinami or just being too young to have trained with his clan, Tsering has never been a true offensive fighter. Like you, he likes to observe and then modify his style to better defeat his opponent. One thing the two of them do share is their wish to end fights quickly. Whether that's a vetix thing, a trait related to their specific race, or just something they share is anyone's guess. At the very least, it gives you a foundation they share, so the two parts can begin to merge. Lunging for you, you duck and charge forward at the same time, unrelenting in your pursuit. You need to keep the pressure ongoing, to give her little time to successfully think and dodge. You're teetering on a dangerous tightrope concerning your stamina but you figure that while she practices her defensive nature, you can work on your stamina. "You're losing your cool," you warn, reminding yourself to keep this somewhat friendly. She takes your warning into consideration, and though she doesn't drop her guard, you can tell that she does indeed seem to regain the composure she started off with. This continues on. A training session full of you sending forth impulsive but targeted punches and kicks. It doesn't take long for you to see why she chose this. She desperately needs to practice her defense, either always needing to be reminded that she's losing her cool or missing obvious hits. The end of the spar has you tired, but Natalus' deep sighs tell you that your exhaustion is nowhere near the same as hers. <<include "8.11Ring2">>
You decide to behave meticulously. One part of you understands that you're fighting Natalus, a female vetix who likes to act offensively. She charges into challenges headfirst, literally. From what you have watched, she's more of a battering ram than a fighter. But another part keeps trying to imagine Tsering adopting this style too. At the very least, you can say that you can never see it. Whether due to the Dinami or just being too young to have trained with his clan, Tsering has never been a true offensive fighter. Like you, he likes to observe and then modify his style to better defeat his opponent. One thing the two of them do share is their wish to end fights quickly. Whether that's a vetix thing, a trait related to their specific race, or just something they share is anyone's guess. At the very least, it gives you a foundation they share, so the two parts can begin to merge. Lunging for you, you deftly shift to the side, pushing her slightly before again dodging to the left to avoid a swing of her arm. Staying right out of her grasp proves to get her more irritated than causes her to focus. "You're losing your cool," you warn, reminding yourself to keep this somewhat friendly. She takes your warning into consideration, and though she doesn't drop her guard, you can tell that she does indeed seem to regain the composure she started off with. This continues on. A training session full of you sending forth calculated punches and kicks. It doesn't take long for you to see why she chose this. She desperately needs to practice her defense, either always needing to be reminded that she's losing her cool or missing obvious hits. The end of the spar has you tired, but Natalus' deep sighs tell you that your exhaustion is nowhere near the same as hers. <<include "8.11Ring2">>
"Nice practice," she tells you, playfully shoving you as she slowly gets to her feet. "I didn't expect that kinda work out." [[“Thought it would be another fight with Ne0?”|8.11AnotherFightNe0]] [[“Where did you learn to fight?”|8.11LearnToFight]] ♡ [[“I aim to please.”|8.11AimToPlease]] ♡ [[“I'm a fan of making folks sweat.”|8.11FolksSweat]]
"Thought it would be like another fight with Ne0?" She snorts or growls. The noise that vetix make always sounds far too deep and nasally to decide which one it is. "Has that robot gotten any better? That fight is still listed as one of my most underwhelming." "We figured he's more of a support role than an offensive one." "Shame to get a damn near immortal body and be shit at using it." You hum as Natalus grabs a bottle of liquid and squirts it on her face, sighing while it sizzles against her skin, causing unique wisps of smoke to fly off. "Thanks again for the workout. Are you about to do something more?" "No," you hum, "my knuckles need a break." She shoots you a toothy grin before nodding and walking off. You watch her go for a while before looking at the knuckles in question. They're raw but not bloody. But this was also a friendly spar; you'll have to keep in mind the level of impact your next confrontation with Tsering will be. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"Where did you learn to fight, anyway?" "Pretty much like all vetix, their clan. You?" "Eh," you answer, attempting to appear deep in thought or dismissive. "Here and there. Self-trained mostly." "Come up with a better lie," she laughs, gaining your attention. "It's obvious in the way you move, how you watch your opponent, even down to your stance, that you were properly trained." "Obvious because you were trained or because it's really that obvious?" "Trying to hide it?" You shrug, not actually knowing the answer to that. "It's not really me trying to hide it as much as I'm trying to avoid questions." She stares at you for a moment before shrugging. "Obvious, regardless of training. If anyone sees you fight and believes your self-trained lie, then they're gullible. I'm sure I don't have to tell you why." "It'd be a waste of breath." She nods in agreement as she leaves the ring, tipping her crest in your direction as a farewell. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"I aim to please, no matter how big or small the task." She pauses, her four eyes shifting to you and brightening. "Is that so?" The way she asks it makes you second-guess your next sentence, and a brow rises as you regard her. "Why do you say it like that?" "I'm finding myself curious about you aiming to please and whether or not it extends to more intimate matters." <<if $s_att is "none" or $int is "men">>\ "That's the one place it doesn't." She shrugs, stretching as she exits the ring. If she's at all unhappy with your words, then she doesn't show it. It's as if she asked you whether or not you wanted to grab some lunch with her, nothing more serious than that. <<else>>\ "Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't." She shrugs. "Meet me in my room, and we can figure it out together if you want." ♡ [[“Room number?”|8.11RoomNumber][$natalusvisit to true]] [[“We'll see.”|8.11WellSee]] <</if>>\
You shrug. "I'm a fan of making folks sweat." She pauses, her four eyes shifting to you and brightening. "Sounds like an invitation more than a threat." "How so?" "There's only two activities that have ever managed to get me sweaty." You hum in understanding. "So, which was it? An invitation?" <<if $s_att is "none" or $int is "men">>\ "A threat then," you smirk. "So, next time we perform a round two?" "Only if we switch it up and you go offensive." She stretches as she exits the ring. "I can do that." You nod, and with that, she heads off. <<else>>\ "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't." She shrugs. "Meet me in my room, and we can figure it out together if you want." ♡ [[“Room number?”|8.11RoomNumber][$natalusvisit to true]] [[“We'll see.”|8.11WellSee]] <</if>>\
"Room number?" "18th floor. Room 23." You make a mental note of the newly acquired information as Natalus heads out. You aren't entirely sure whether or not you'll meet up with her or not, but it's good to have the option. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"We'll see," you remark and she simply nods, leaving the ring behind. You watch her go, thinking over her proposal for a moment, but inevitably, you shoo it from your mind. <<if hasVisited("7.28Oral")>>The last thing you need is to get intimate with someone, <<if hasVisited("7.28OChecl")>>and actually shout Checl's name while lying in bed with another.<<elseif hasVisited("7.28OZihr")>> and actually shout Zihr's name while lying in bed with another.<<else>>further exacerbating all the issues swarming around in your mind.<</if>><</if>> <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
Gathering yourself, you head over to Sin's office, wondering if you should have sent a message beforehand to warn them of your approach. Perhaps they should have no forewarning, forced to deal with your presence and questions as they emerge with no preparation. It would be nice to finally catch the shaph off their game and unprepared, and perhaps see whether they are typically so disarming or if they converse with you only when prepared. <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>A few more steps cause you to doubt just how much of a good idea this all is. You have only thought about how completely idiotic it is for Sin to have feelings for you. How anyone having feelings for you is just heading towards disappointment. The last time the two of you discussed it, you made it clear that the thought scared you. How will this time be any different? You never took a moment to think it through, to stop and consider … Because there's nothing to consider. Your feelings for Sin could be the purest thing on this planet, and it would all be for naught.<<else>>Making it to their office door, you find it already open and choose to invite yourself in. Residing close to an open window is Sin, their back to the door as they busy themselves with what you assume is paperwork.<</if>>\ <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ [[Leave.|8.11Leave]] [[Enter.|8.11Enter]] <<else>>\ <<include "8.11SpeakToSin1">> <</if>>\
Visiting them is stupid. There's nothing to discuss concerning the two of you or what the Supreme Commander allowed. Before you can think about it any longer, your feet carry you backward. You almost run into someone, but ignore their presence as you continue on your new path, putting more space between you and that office. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
Making it to their office door, you find it already open and choose to invite yourself in. Residing close to an open window is Sin, their back to the door as they busy themselves with what you assume is paperwork. <<include "8.11SpeakToSin1">>
"Le'Ynane, just place them-" They pause upon seeing you. "Ah, my apologies, $name." "Le'Yanay?" you ask, unable to truly pronounce the name. Either it was due to Sin's accent or simply not being able to replicate the sounds they had just spoken. "Another handler beneath me. I am expecting a few reports. I didn't think you would be by so soon." Taking a moment, you glance at the walls that are currently portraying a unique and colorful sunrise over a thin mountain range. At random intervals, a star will glimmer brightly, or the sun's rays will sharpen and send lens flares across the view. "I didn't know your walls were displays." "They weren't always," they hum, their attention back on their screen. "Once I realized I was content with my role here, I decided to request them for my own sanity." [[“Your sanity?”|8.11Sanity]] [[“Content with your role?”|8.11ContentRole]]
"Your sanity?" "Shaphs do poorly within metal walls." "I'm not entirely knowledgeable about shaph architecture. Are you telling me that all of your buildings are made of natural material?" "Metal is natural," they snort. "But, to answer your question, in a way. We make our home inside of plants and trees, while some of us find comfort underground and close to the roots resting there." "Your plants are big enough for that?" "Especially," they laugh. "The abnormal fauna you are used to has always been odd to me. Small, though one must still appreciate the resilient traits they share." <<include "8.11SpeakToSin2">>
"You said 'once you were content with your role'? What do you mean?" They shrug with their lower two arms. "At one point, I only wished to retire. One can only handle law enforcement for so long." "What changed?" "Mahgunta. I was at a low point, believing it all a waste of time, that it would never get better and that trying to make a change was hopeless. She, in her frank way, told me that I was an idiot for thinking that. It was either that I quit and be content with never making a difference. Or I stay, and continue to try and change it all as much as I could. Whether the difference was small or large, it was still more than quitting." "I can see you chose the latter." "Indeed. Even the strongest roots need nourishment. Being the difference that I wish to see, showing others that they can be as well." <<include "8.11SpeakToSin2">>
"What do I have to do to get some windows like these?" "Become a Commander," Sin laughs, the sound jolly, even making you smile. "Ah, so I will never get them." "Not the way you're going in this organization. But you would make for an inspirational tale. Criminal turned successful bounty hunter. A true testament to willpower and a desire to do better." You snort hard enough for it to cause your nose to sting. <<include "8.11SpeakToSin2">>
There is a lull in the conversation and, for a moment, you do nothing more than stand there awkwardly. Finally, you sigh and realize that you may as well <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>get this over with<<else>>ask the question on your mind<</if>>. <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ "We don't have to talk about it," Sin says before you have the chance to say anything. "You'd … rather not?" you ask carefully, the words coming out slowly as if they—nor you—know in which order they should appear in. "//I// would. But you have made it clear that your fear of my feelings towards you outweighs the value of conversation. I have been told no before, $name. We can keep our relationship friendly." They sigh, placing the tablet down as they turn to face you. "I know interspecies relationships bother some-" They think your trepidation is due to your species and perhaps also to your work relationship. It almost tickles you that neither of those things truly bothers you, not like the truth. But perhaps Sin has given you a gift. The ability to end it all without ever worrying that the truth may come out or you needing to face it for the sake of another. [[“Then that is that.” (This will end Sin's romance route.)|8.11ThatIsThat][$sinRoPo to 0; $flirt_sin to false]] [[“That's not it.”|8.11ThatsNotIt]] [[Remain silent.|8.11RemainSilent]] <<else>>\ "Why? Why do any of this?" Sin opens their mouth to answer but you raise a hand, warning them. "And don't say for the mystery. No mystery is worth putting one's entire career on the line. You didn't have to bat for me with Mahgunta, I'm pretty sure everyone's life would become five times easier if I was put back on a transport out of here. So, why?" "I wouldn't entirely agree with that," they chuckle, far too relaxed for you. "The way you view yourself is extremely interesting. Anyone else with your abilities would be bragging, boasting and trying to amass a fan club." [[“Good thing I'm not someone else.”|8.11SomeoneElse]] [[“I don't want to hear shit about my markings.”|8.11Markings]] [[“You're avoiding the question.”|8.11AvoidingQuestion]] <</if>>\
"Then … that is that, I suppose." They nod. "If you don't mind, I have work to get back to. Unless you have something else you wish to discuss." You don't, so you rise and head back out. You wonder how the two of you will interact now that this line has been established. Knowing, Sin, they'll act like nothing happened, putting professionalism in front of whatever feelings they once harbored. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"That's not it," you admit. "Then what is it, $name?" "Something that I don't want to talk about." "So then you're not ready." "That's far closer, yes. But even then, I think that's putting it all in simple terms. Between trying to …" The words are almost out. But the words cease to exist, choking you before dissipating and leaving you standing there. <<include "8.11S2S_Romance1">>
Sin looks at you, having finished whatever they were saying before you zoned out. Finding you just as quiet as before, they sigh. "$name. I don't know what else to say, as I believe I have already been plenty open and straight-forward with you. I'm not the type to carry on something that is one-sided." "I don't know what to say. I've never been good at this sort of … thing." "Nothing has ever been more clear." You throw them a scowl, but otherwise keep the exact words to yourself. It's not like they're wrong. <<include "8.11S2S_Romance1">>
"There is a constant internal war going on behind those eyes," Sin reveals, getting to their feet and approaching you. "What are you more shocked by, $name? That someone could ever find you intriguing and wish to get to know you on a deeper level? Or that it's me who feels that way?" "What do you know about me, Sin? You don't know where I came from, what motivates me, and you said it yourself, I'm going through my own war. Why the hell would you want to include yourself in it? Does your curiosity truly go that far?" [[“Don't waste your time.”|8.11WasteTime]] [[“You. Don't. Know me.”|8.11YDKM]] [[“Do I look like your personal project?”|8.11PersonalProject]]
"Let me give you some advice, Sin, don't waste your time on me. It won't end well for you." "You're so sure of that." "Yes. All of this is a distraction, and I doubt either of us needs distractions." "Speaking for me now?" You bite your tongue, shaking your head. "It's just the smart play. You don't know me, Sin. Truly. Let it go." <<include "8.11S2S_Romance2">>
"You. Don't. Know me," you repeat, hoping that these words will finally land with Sin. "You don't know where I came from." "Terra Genesis, that one is easy," they snort, and you almost want to chide yourself for giving them such an obvious target to hit. "You never got your answer to what my previous occupation was." "A hit-person, if I had to guess. It was between that and an assassin, but you don't carry yourself as the latter." You almost want to physically slap their words out of the air. "None of this is proof that you know me." <<include "8.11S2S_Romance2">>
"Is that what I am to you? A rehabilitation project? Help the poor terran through this difficult period." "Don't put words in my mouth, $name. What I see in you is something you seem to fail to see in yourself." "Again, you don't know me." <<include "8.11S2S_Romance2">>
Their arms grab you, steadying you as they stare into your eyes. "You're $name. A resilient and stubborn terran that has an awful trigger finger. You hardly care about what others think about you, but to an extent, that's not true. Your goals guide your life, and therefore, you will do anything to make sure you reach them. <<if $humor >=50>>Your humor is a bit odd to me, but you believe yourself funny nevertheless. You also cannot stand serious moments, always needing to lighten them for your own sake and focus.<<else>>You are a serious type of person, not too strict that many find you unbearable, but you are getting there. But that seriousness allows you to focus.<</if>> And despite how <<if $view >=50>>much this world has burned you, you still have the ability to view it with the brightest, glimmering eyes.<<else>>wondrous this world is, there is a lack of joy in those eyes. Replaced by a jaded look that is simply tired.<</if>>" Their thumb graces your chin as they stare at you as if seeing you for the first time, a look of wonder and admiration lighting their own features. "<<if $view >=50>>I don't think you understand how many times I've begun to wish for you to look at me the same way, with those beautiful $markings eyes of yours.<<else>>So many times do I find myself wishing that I could do something to bring a shine back to these beautiful $markings eyes of yours.<</if>>" They take a step back, but you find yourself gravitating toward them, wishing to once again feel their touch. "Anything else, I wish to have the opportunity to learn." <a data-passage=":: 8.11S2S_Romance3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Sin nods. "I'll make you a deal, something that will make this easier for both of us. I'll give you some time, especially since so much still belongs in the breeze's current, and your focus should be on the hunt. When you are ready, tell me. If you never bring it up again, then I know the answer." The chance to avoid a conversation you will probably not want to have is all you need to get you to agree. They're right, you can focus on this after. Right now, the bounty and your future here matter more. "Deal." Leaving Sin's office is harder than you ever care to admit. The thought that this may be the last time you see them is heavy on both your mind and heart, part of the reason you always wished to avoid this kind of commitment. Waving the thought away, you continue away from the office and to the elevator, trying to figure out what else you need to get done. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"It's a good thing that I'm not someone else then, huh?" "I can't entirely say," Sins snorts good-naturedly, "I feel like it would make my job a lot easier." <<include "8.11SinNoRomance">>
"I don't want to hear shit about my markings," you growl, tempering your anger. "I wasn't speaking about them, but I'm also sure another would flaunt them more than loathe them." "Well, another is stupid." "I'm starting to suspect that loathe is far too simple a word." You don't answer, mostly because you know where this line of questioning is going, and you're not ready for it. You barely have the conversation with yourself, let alone someone you're not entirely sure you trust. <<include "8.11SinNoRomance">>
"You're avoiding the question." "$name. Honestly? Besides the obvious points, like you being skilled and resourceful? Something in my roots is telling me to keep an eye on you. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like you are meant for something far more important than any of us, even you, know." "So, you're risking your career on a whim." "I don't know if terrans have something familiar, but when a shaph feels something in their roots, it is "If your roots warned you that I was an immeasurable threat, would you attempt to kill me?" "No, but that's because I am a pacifist. I would, however, make sure you were on that prison transport and warn the guards to never let you go. No matter what." You gained an answer, but you're not entirely sure you're happy to know that's how Sin feels. On one hand, they're at least on your side, but that means little when the only thing keeping you out of prison is something you find equivalent to a gut response. <<include "8.11SinNoRomance">>
"Listen, $name. I can sit here and give you every reason why I think you're an asset. But if you don't believe me, then it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you're still here. I believe in chances; it is simply who I am. If you want to squander the ones Mahgunta and I give you, then do so on your own time. I'm sure the prison transport path is still within reach. Otherwise, fall in line and keep your head down." That seems to settle it all, and with nothing more to say, you turn and go. <<if $day is 2>>\ <a data-passage="8.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ //Your day will be divided into two; some activities now will not be able to be done later. Be wise about your decisions.// <<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.11StudyFile][$day +=1; $smarts +=5]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Errands")>>Do errands.<<else>>[[Do errands.|8.11Errands][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.11HoundWalk][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11Train")>>Train.<<else>>[[Train.|8.11Train][$day +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11SpeakToSin")>>Go and speak to Sin.<<else>>[[Go and speak to Sin.|8.11SpeakToSin][$day +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
As the day carries on, you find yourself growing lazier. Night is upon you and curfew will soon strike. Releasing a yawn, you decide to do one last thing before calling it a day and retiring. <<if hasVisited("8.12StudyFileNight")>>Study the file.<<else>>[[Study the file.|8.12StudyFileNight][$night +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12Dinner")>>Go eat dinner.<<else>>[[Go eat dinner.|8.12Dinner][$night +=1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.11HoundWalk")>>\ You have already taken $hound for a walk today. <<else>>\ <<if hasVisited("8.12HoundWalkNight")>>Take hound out for a walk.<<else>>[[Take hound out for a walk.|8.12HoundWalkNight][$night +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $natalusvisit>>\ <<if hasVisited("8.12Natalus")>>Pay Natalus a visit.<<else>>[[Pay Natalus a visit.|8.12Natalus][$night +=1]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <</if>>\
<<if hasVisited("8.11StudyFile")>>\ With nothing else to do, you choose to revisit the file. "I've never put this much work into any of the other ones," you mumble as you take a familiar seat on the bed, bringing up the view. At least this time, you have a snack. For the second time … or third, if you count the actual briefing, you look over the information gathered, only this time you keep that itch you had at the forefront. With everything you have, the synopsis is that Gon is a miner turned drugmaker and has somehow created a deadly drug from a mushroom that shouldn't be anything but deadly. If they were a serial killer, then all of this would be far simpler. Their actions would be to kill rather than to turn a profit from clientèle. But no drug dealer goes into the practice with the hopes of killing everyone off. There's no business, and at the end of the day, that's the point. Not to mention that this is still working with the knowledge that Gon is probably self-taught. Dealing drugs is easy, but the reports are saying that they're the ones making them. Believable only because it's killing people, but otherwise still labeled as strange. [[Closer look at the reports.|8.12Reports]] [[Closer look at Gon's history.|8.12History]] [[Closer look at the mushroom.|8.12Shrooms]] <<else>>\ Any other time, you'd treat this bounty just like any other. But the simple fact is that you can't. This hunt alone answers the question of what's next. Do you continue with the Nightwalkers, or do you start devising plans that hinge on luck and Tsering, of all people? The latter brings a grimace to your face. Not to mention it's the worst-case scenario. If Tsering gets you, then that's it; you're relying purely on luck to see your goals come to fruition. The Dinami, whether they believe Tsering or not, will reward him for bringing you in, and they'll get creative with your punishment. You can't imagine that they'll simply kill you. Rolling your eyes to your thoughts, you focus back on the file. You turn on the television and connect your chip to the screen, letting you see it all on a much larger screen. Gon L'Finicik stares back at you in a pretty decent mugshot. They have the common brown skin tone that most of their species has, though you would describe Sin's as a taupe tone, while this one has a far richer brown. Their eyes are a deep black, and their light grey facial markings are in the shape of two jagged vertical lines, one over each eye. Along with that marking, they have a wicked scar that runs from the lower part of their left eye across their cheek to their ear. Gon wasn't raised on Stronoe but Talanus, a mineral-rich planet in the Lyrae system. The same system as Miarilia, the raza and trarkran homeworld. They were pretty far from home, and as you continue reviewing, you realize that's because they were born into a mining family. As tradition, Gon was a miner who slaved their life away for long hours, mediocre pay, and hazardous conditions. Interesting, as shaphs are one of those species that are very sensitive to poor air quality. The file says they were placed on some kind of 'drug' that would help, but you notice that there's no mention of the drug in question. Something bumps into you, and you glance down to see your attention-craving aiczeots. "Hey buddy," you start, taking a seat and resting a hand on the back of his head. He purrs, making a long huffing-like noise as he pushes his head into your side, demanding more than a hand-to-head connection. You sneer. [[Cover him in kisses.|8.11CoverInKisses][$gonknown to 1]] [[Give him what he demands.|8.11GiveInToDemands][$gonknown to 1]] [[He deserves belly rubs.|8.11BellyRubs][$gonknown to 1]] <</if>>\
Pulling up the few reports about Gon and the drug, you start to shuffle through them to know exactly what was found. Three documented reports in all, but only two led law enforcement to Gon. From what you read, the first batch was more of a wild goose chase and didn't exactly kill everyone, but instead sent many of them to the hospital. The second group saw far more casualties, but the few that were still alive were able to give statements that matched the description of the first. The third resembles that of the second, but all of those who took the drug died. The officers were able to interrupt Gon's fourth attempt, and that was when they cornered and managed to follow them back to the area and get a shot off. You're not typically around chemists, so you're not entirely sure what the process is when it comes to making and testing new drugs. You always believed they tested it on fast-reproducing animals before moving on to the main target demographic. From what you're gathering, though, Gon just went with it. The lethality improving with every iteration. Other than that, you find little else that can help. <<if hasVisited("8.12Reports")>>Closer look at the reports.<<else>>[[Closer look at the reports.|8.12Reports]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12History")>>Closer look at Gon's history.<<else>>[[Closer look at Gon's history.|8.12History]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12Shrooms")>>Closer look at the mushroom.<<else>>[[Closer look at the mushroom.|8.12Shrooms]]<</if>> [[Think about it all.|8.12StudyFileNight4][$gonknown to 2]]
Pulling up Gon's history, you read all of it slowly, even though half of it is already well-known. You'll know enough about this shaph to have a therapeutic conversation with them if you keep this up. The information about Gon's birth and place of origin means little beyond discussing how mineral-rich the asteroid is. Was born "in a company," which is a phrase that usually meant you were the company's property and you owed them a specific number of years until they even entertained the idea of releasing you. A contract you were born into. It was why these mining companies adored families and always encouraged those down on their luck to bring their families out so they could have 'peace, wealth, and everlasting happiness.' Only to learn that none of it was exactly free or euphoric. By the time they realized that their decisions were made out of a desperate act, they had already signed a fifty-year contract with enough stipulations to have them and their entire gene pool fall under the title of 'asset' for the company. Of course, Gon managed to break that contract, but nothing in their files says they committed a crime doing so. Meaning that there was no death, so someone smuggled them out or bought their contract. Smuggling could have been done by a soul with a kind heart, but if someone bought their contract, then that had to be an expensive expenditure or by the hands of a zealous cult looking to bolster its numbers. A gang or mercenary group … no, too expensive, and they usually don't go off planet for members. Organizations like the Dinami do, but nothing in Gon's file has a wide enough gap. That, and there shouldn't be a file to begin with if so. Other than that, Gon's life has been pretty boring. In and out of odd and quick jobs, always finding themselves going back to some kind of criminal-affiliated activity, though nothing too big. The biggest thing you notice is—again—the switch from drug dealer to maker. Either they learned poor lessons from their past predecessors, or there was a lot more going on. <<if hasVisited("8.12Reports")>>Closer look at the reports.<<else>>[[Closer look at the reports.|8.12Reports]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12History")>>Closer look at Gon's history.<<else>>[[Closer look at Gon's history.|8.12History]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12Shrooms")>>Closer look at the mushroom.<<else>>[[Closer look at the mushroom.|8.12Shrooms]]<</if>> [[Think about it all.|8.12StudyFileNight4][$gonknown to 2]]
Taking another look at the mushrooms and the symptoms don't really bring up much besides allowing you to notice just how flawed they are. The more you look at it, the more you realize that the drugs are basically dried versions of the mushroom, losing some of their more potent attributes in the process, but that's all. People are dying, just slower than if they actually found the mushroom in the wild and took it. And, seeing that the mushrooms aren't native to this planet, the local authority probably knows little about them. This isn't some carefully thought-out drug. No, this was something you could do if you just knew the process of making shrooms. <<if hasVisited("8.12Reports")>>Closer look at the reports.<<else>>[[Closer look at the reports.|8.12Reports]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12History")>>Closer look at Gon's history.<<else>>[[Closer look at Gon's history.|8.12History]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("8.12Shrooms")>>Closer look at the mushroom.<<else>>[[Closer look at the mushroom.|8.12Shrooms]]<</if>> [[Think about it all.|8.12StudyFileNight4][$gonknown to 2]]
Before now, Gon has only ever had minor infractions. Mostly those deeming them an accessory to a crime and being a low-level drug dealer. The issue you're finding with this is how a shaph goes from small time drug dealing to actually creating one. You bring up research on the Whistle Cap mushroom, unsurprised to find that only a handful of papers on its effects exist. A mushroom that was found to have no medicinal or scientifically-significant properties is now being used by a drug dealer with hardly any training in the field. It doesn't exactly make sense. Sure, one can lend credence to the fact that Gon is a shaph, but wouldn't some of the scientists have been as well? Gon has no degrees or schooling, and though they could've researched it, making drugs isn't exactly some DIY after-school activity. One's species can only take them so far; it doesn't make up for knowledge, skill, and interest. <a data-passage="8.11StudyFileNight3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shake your head. "Not everything is a fucking mystery." And yet, something still bothers you. You scroll further down for anything interesting, but most of that is just a rehash of what Vittorio had told you. You pull up your earlier search for the Whistle Cap mushroom, taking a second glance at all the known symptoms and comparing them to the report. The report is vague, seeing that most of those who took the drug were found dead. This entire thing feels like a dead end. Like you're grasping for straws in hopes of finding treasure that has only been rumored. Going out on a limb, you compare the mushroom to others, and though there are a few that do look identical, it is not enough to solidify your suspicions. In fact, this entire rabbit hole seems pointless when you're still not sure how a miner became a drug dealer in the first place. Something itches the side of your brain, something that you feel is obvious, but you're just not seeing. Something pertaining to the shaph, mushrooms, deaths, and the way they disappeared in today's day and age. All of it holds some connection, but every time you think about it, your brain questions why any of it is important. You decide not to itch it. Most times, these things just come to you; hopefully, it won't come too late. Maybe sleeping on it will help. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
All the information you gathered causes you to pause, your brow furrowing as you pull up and look around the area they dropped off the radar. Studying it, you find that the area sits amidst a crystal field with some coral-rock-like plants, and with a medium-sized stalagmite mountain range nearby, that resembles those belonging to the spire. You had never considered what those ranges might hold; as far as you were concerned, it was just rock and more rock. But what if there was something valuable within? But that still didn't seem to answer for the deaths. Could there be a tunnel or something underground causing interference? Maybe the deaths were covering for something larger? It was a technique you saw plenty whilst in the Dinami, though you perceive that the organization did a much better job than this lone shaph. You feel like you are much closer to uncovering the truth here, but you won't know for sure until you arrive and can see for yourself. At least you know what to look for. And unless someone else (not a wholly unreasonable conclusion) were piecing the pieces together like you, then you were the only one with this knowledge. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Feeling peckish, you decide to finish the day off with some dinner. It's around the time when many others are thinking the same. Meaning a crowd, but also all the lines will be hot and ready for serving. Heading to one of the only lines available to terrans, you glance over the assortment, trying to figure out what you have a taste for this evening when you're interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Turning, you find it to be … "Ne0?" you start, raising a brow. "Who taught you to clear your throat?" "Checl." "I'm surprised you have the vocal cords to do that." "Feeling. Odd. Convincing?" "Almost," you hum, going back to your original task of grabbing the most appetizing dishes. Once complete, you head toward an empty table, aware of the figure following you. "Can I help you, Ne0?" <<if $checlRoPo <1 and $checlne0 >=1>>\ "Company …" It actually gazes to the side in a contemplative manner. "And query." "Color me intrigued," you hum, gesturing to the chair, and it takes a seat. "So, what's up?" Ne0 remains quiet for a beat longer, not necessarily watching you eat, as it feels like its gaze is traveling past you. But seeing that there's nothing but a wall behind you, you surmise that this is just how it ponders. Ne0 shifts, straightens up, but then goes back to that questioning look. It restarts this process a couple of times, each time looking more and more … uncomfortable. You never thought you would see a draqe in your lifetime, let alone see one get nervous and develop actual emotions before your eyes. It's a journey you can guess is strange and perhaps even uncomfortable for Ne0. "Not sure how to say it?" "Affirmative. Computing knowledge … limited." <a data-passage="8.12Dinner2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "Company," it answers, saying nothing more as it takes the seat opposite you. You start to eat, waiting to hear what Ne0 will say, but it remains quiet, its gaze traveling past you. But seeing that there's nothing but a wall behind you, you surmise that this is just how it ponders. Ne0 shifts, straightens up, but then goes back to that questioning look. It restarts this process a couple of times, each time looking more and more … uncomfortable. You never thought you would see a draqe in your lifetime, let alone see one get nervous and develop actual emotions before your eyes. It's a journey you can guess is strange and perhaps even uncomfortable for Ne0. "Can't answer a question if there isn't one, Ne0?" "You." <<if $humor >=50>>"You looking to file a complaint too?"<<else>>"What about me?"<</if>> Yet again, Ne0 appears lost for words. "Absence," it starts, but fails to say anything more. You continue eating, giving Ne0 plenty of time to think through whatever it wants to say, but it never does. <a data-passage="8.12Dinner3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"What's it about?" "Checl." The food almost misses your mouth, though you're not entirely sure why you're surprised. As soon as Ne0 saw her, it complimented her, and since then, the two have grown closer. Naturally, feelings would arise, more so due to Checl's influence than a natural progression made by Ne0. "Are you wondering if I think she's into you?" "Negative." "Do I think you guys make a good couple?" "Negative." "You'll have to give me something here, Ne0. I can only guess for so long." "Query. Worth it?" You hum, closing your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. "You're asking if going down this path with her is worth it?" "Affirmative." "Depends on what you mean by worth it. Worth rewriting your code enough to even qualify what you're feeling as feelings. Or if you mean if she's worth it. Or if you mean the romance part period. Or even just the emotional side of it all." It stares at you for a moment longer before nodding, and you snort. "Probably not the best person to ask." "Trustworthy. Respected. Friend." That pulls a long sigh out of you, along with you dragging your hand down your face as you think about your next statement. [[“It's not worth it.”|8.12NotWorthIt][$ne0 -=5]] [[“It can be worth it.”|8.12CanBeWorthIt]] [[“It's worth it.”|8.12WorthIt][$ne0 +=5]]
"It's not worth it, if I'm gonna be honest with you." Shrugging, you lean back in your seat. "I'm not saying there aren't moments where things are good and less of a headache. Or that there aren't any times or moments that make it //seem// worth it. But in the end, it's just a big mistake. You have the gift of being able to go an entire lifetime without ever truly feeling. No emotions or wayward feelings. Just pure rational and logical thought without emotions weighing you down and steering you off course. Keep that." "Understood." "Is that going to actually sway you?" "Unknown. Advice constructive. Conclusion unknown." <a data-passage="8.12Dinner3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It can be worth it, with the right person. Otherwise, it's more trouble than it's worth." "Right person?" "I'd say soulmate, but I doubt you'd know what that really means." "Soulmate defined. Close friend or romantic partner with whom one-" You wave its words away, shaking your head as you start to finish your food. I can read definitions, too; it's not the same as actually feeling or living it. That definition doesn't tell you about the times you'll butt heads with your soulmate, or when you just want alone time, and they think you're being distant. It doesn't talk about the unadulterated love you may feel for them, paired with the inability to properly speak or convey it in a way that they can feel and understand it, leaving you guys in a negative place that you don't quite understand." <a data-passage="8.12Dinner3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's worth it, even the bad and annoying parts. It's the baggage that comes with feelings and emotions. Can't have all the good, so even though it's not nice, you learn to appreciate it for what it is. In your case, it'll probably feel really weird and take a while to get used to. They can be … overwhelming." "Understood." "Is that going to actually sway you?" "Unknown. Advice constructive. Conclusion unknown." <a data-passage="8.12Dinner3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You finish eating, and Ne0 keeps you company by remaining silent. At least with it, it feels like it's actually performing some behind-the-scenes analysis that requires its attention. With others, it would just be awkward and empty silence. Once you're done and you get to your feet, Ne0 does the same. Joining your side until you get to your floor and head down the hall to your respective rooms. "Do you sleep, Ne0?" "Negative." "So, the bed just sits there?" "Negative. Removed." You pause, finding yourself far too interested to not ask. "Can I see your room?" Ne0 doesn't nod, but it does take the lead, and once at its door, moves to the side for you to see. Its room is incredibly unique. Maybe it's because you don't know much about Ne0 and its tastes, or maybe it's because you didn't expect to see this. The room itself is still reminiscent of the one you are all assigned to, but the amount of creativity Ne0 has thrown in has turned it into something entirely eclectic. The room is filled with clutter, but it all has a proper place, looking more like keepsakes than what some might consider collected junk. Various posters, flags, and paintings ranging from landscapes to buildings and businesses to animals, and a few that portray people and scenes. "Did you … did you paint these?" you ask, jerking around to look at Ne0. "Affirmative. Checl recommended. Hobbies acquired. Events attended." Placing your attention back on them, you can't help but chuckle at how some paintings look like perfect copies but then begin to degrade in quality, taking on a more personal style. "Good job," you hum. "Acknowledged … grateful." Telling Ne0 goodnight, you head to your room, wondering when it had time to start an entire hobby, buy so many decorations, and acquire so many knick-knacks. The two of you were doing this entire job differently, and you're not exactly sure which one was more in the right. You close the door behind you, shooing the thought away as you lie down to sleep. Tomorrow is the hunt, so you need to be prepared, seeing that it's your last chance. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You haven't been able to take $hound on his daily walk, might as well do it now. Returning to the room, you greet $hound who is currently stretched out on your bed. Your approach garners no response until you head over to the closet and grab his muzzle. His tongue flicks through the air, and though he rises and comes over, he hisses his discontent. You have no doubt that he has strong mixed emotions about its meaning. "Would you rather stay in here?" you question as you begin to buckle it around his snout, making sure the straps are on tight enough. You call for a sky car, setting the destination to the shady neighborhood where you had both run into Tsering and met your mysterious assailant. Since then, you have seen neither. You have grown used to the roads and the side streets; some faces have become familiar, albeit they have remained parlous. You have extended your jogging route, pushing further out towards the crystal hills to allow $hound a moment to run unbounded. At times, he'll get a whiff of a junk rat or manage to catch one of the numerous birds in the area. It is all you can do to keep his senses up. As you watch him stretch, leap, dig, and roll around in the dirt, you begin to ponder your relationship. He is not a dog. He's an incredibly intelligent creature that almost became the apex predator of its planet, beaten out solely by the vetix who managed to grow a spine first. Vetix use them as hunting companions but there lies the problem. You are not a vetix with acres of land and constant puzzles to keep such a creature engaged. You have seen vids of all the work they put in, and it simply isn't something you can do in your current predicament or with your resources. The Outlands were better, far more freedom. Here … Will it ever get better? You will go from one cramped space to the next, hoping to adequately accommodate a creature as large and demanding as he. [[Perhaps he would be happier free …|8.11HappierFree]] [[You'll make it work.|8.11MakeItWork]] [[Would he even wish to be without you?|8.11WithoutYou]]
But this is a problem for a future $name. One who will probably forget this moment. Whistling, you call $hound back to your side and head back into town. You walk down the now lively street, keeping an eye on those who deal in the dark but being lazy about it. Most of those who watch you pass possess a look of familiarity, they've seen you before. You've become a common sight here and that little fact has at least allowed you to pass by with hardly any problems. Passing by the bar, you order a skycar to pick you up at the usual spot when you hear someone perform a low whistle. Not slowing your pace, you glance over your shoulder at a scrawny-appearing raza. "That's a pretty little pet you got there," they sigh, taking another gulp of their drink. "How much you be willing to pass 'em over?" [[“Off limits.”|8.12OffLimits]] [[“Fuck off.”|8.12FuckOff]] [[“Oh, sure. Make an offer.”|8.12Offer]] [[“Buy me an armada.”|8.12Armada]] [[Ignore them.|8.12Ignore]]
"Off limits. Don't make another offer," you warn, pausing only for a moment to take a second look at the raza. Besides having a fast trigger finger, you're comfortable in assuming that you can at least beat them in a fight. Being in a drunken state doesn't help their chances either. Now that you think about it, $hound is right by your side. There's no way they'll win, even if they did have a weapon and friends willing to risk their lives. "You got something stuck up that tight ass of yours, huh?" they grumble, pushing themselves forward, but lean too far and almost fall over. Oh yea, you are not worried. Rolling your eyes, you continue along your path, leaving the figure to grumble in the dark as you call a skycar to meet you.
"Fuck off," you grumble, your upper lip rising in both disgust and as a warning. Pausing, only for a moment, you take a second look at the raza. Besides having a fast trigger finger, you're comfortable in assuming that you can at least beat them in a fight. Being in a drunken state doesn't help their chances either. Now that you think about it, $hound is right by your side. There's no way they'll win, even if they did have a weapon and friends willing to risk their lives. "You got something stuck up that tight ass of yours, huh?" they grumble, pushing themselves forward, but lean too far and almost fall over. Oh yea, you are not worried. Rolling your eyes, you continue along your path, leaving the figure to grumble in the dark as you call a skycar to meet you.
"Oh, sure," you start, mustering up the most sarcastic tone you can. "Make an offer, and I'll be sure to consider it." "500 solars," they state, almost looking excited. The idea that they think that you're being serious and that their offer would be regarded as serious causes you to question your tone. Though they're drunk, everything is probably going over their head. "I'll think on it," you shout over your shoulder as you continue on, rolling your eyes at the entire interaction. You call for the car to pick you up at the usual spot, leaving the neighborhood behind. Getting into the car, you head back to the headquarters, yawning all the while. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Buy me an armada, and I'll actually let you share space with him," you shout over your shoulder, refusing to slow your pace. The raza says something, but you stopped listening to their drunken words. You call for the car to pick you up at the usual spot, leaving the neighborhood behind. Getting into the car, you head back to the headquarters, yawning all the while. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You keep walking, refusing to pay the person a second thought. They were either drunk or just one of those talkative types who believed a bit of liquid courage gave them the right to say anything they wanted. "I'm talking to you!" they scream, but you continue on. No one comes running behind you, and no shots go off. Getting into the car, you head back to the headquarters, yawning all the while. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Recalling Natalus's invitation, you decide to take her up on it and head to the memorized room number. You have no idea how this tryst will play out, given all you know about Natalus. She is extremely laid-back, competitive, and seems to mostly keep to herself. The only reason you ever learned her name was that her Commander shouted it out while helping her with some drills. You make it to the door before the scenarios have a chance to play out, a blessing in disguise. Pressing the buzzer, you take a step back and wait for a mere second before it slides open, revealing Natalus. "I'm surprised you came," she greets as she shifts to the side, allowing you entry. A tad more decorated than your own, but sparse enough to give you the idea that whoever lives here is hardly ever present. Some leftover food cartridges decorate the counter, a cup or two sit on the table, and a lone jacket is draped across the booth. But that's it. The rest of the room is relatively clean and put together with no personal touches besides a footlocker and a picture on a nearby end table of who you believe is her family. You spare it a quick glance before passing your attention over to her. "Not a fan of decorating?" "Did you really come here for small talk?" You shrug with a grin. "I didn't want to just walk into your place and tell you to strip off all your clothes." "Maybe that would've gone over better," she snorts, pressing her body close to yours as she claims your lips. She's demanding with her kiss, a promise that she'll do all the work—if you allow it—while also assuring you that she'll make the problems you're attempting to escape disappear if only for an hour or so. For now, you allow her to lead, responding to her wordless invitations and just finding the natural contours every body possesses. <a data-passage="8.12Natalus1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You should take these clothes off," she grumbles against your lips, her upper mandibles pinching your lips. You break the kiss off as you start removing your clothes, and she does the same. "Have you ever had sex with a vetix?" she asks, removing her pants and revealing there to be another layer. [[“Yes, but never a female vetix.”|8.12YesNotFemale]] [[“I have.”|8.12IHave]] [[“Nope.”|8.12Nope]]
"I have," you start, cocking your head to the side as you continue to lazily remove your own clothes while watching her. "But never a female one." She hums as she finishes, standing confidently in front of you now that she's nude. You've never stopped and actually taken a long look at her. She's a more rusty orange tone, bordering on wanting to just be labeled as red. Her tiger-like chitin markings are a dirty brown, and you think you can see gray speckles scattered throughout. Her eyes are blue, a pretty deep tone that reminds you of the ocean with the sun starting to set. "It's mostly the same," she tells you, handing you a lubricant bottle that you have used with male vetix. "But <<if $sex is "p">>our vaginas have ridges along the walls, great for vetix penis, not so good for anyone with more sensitive ones."<<else>>since our vaginas have ridges, you need protection from chafing, but you also get the added benefit of quicker stimulation."<</if>> "Sounds promising." She smirks, pushing you playfully onto the bed. <<include "8.12Natalus2">>
"I have," you hum, continuing to remove your clothes and throwing them to the side with a smirk. "I know what to expect." "Great. No need to talk anymore then." She hands you a lubricant bottle, and you immediately begin to put it on your extremities, unable to remember what happened the first time you slept with a vetix. It was their first time sleeping with a terran, and one can imagine just how shocking and uncomfortable it all was until you both realized that vetix spit was a lot more helpful. Once you're done, she pushes you playfully onto the bed. <<include "8.12Natalus2">>
"Never," you answer as you continue to undress. "Crash course?" She nods. "Vetix aren't allergic to your cum and vice versa. My spit will lubricate you <<if $sex is "p">>so when you go in, you won't tear your penis.<<else>>so you won't end up chafing.<</if>> <<if $sex is "p">>\ "Tear my penis?" "We have ridges along our vaginal walls, great for vetix penis, not so good for anyone with more sensitive ones." "So, this is safe?" "Yes. But you should put on an extra layer of coating just in case. Spit wears off quickly." She leaves your side to grab something from a drawer, returning with a bottle that your abacus translates into "EZFuc Lubricant Overlay." You put it on, silently praying that this won't be the day you discover you're allergic to something. Once you're done, she playfully pushes you onto the bed. <<else>>\ "It can be that bad?" "I've never seen it get bad, but that's because I take precautions. I've had sex with some terrans, and they all seem to enjoy it, guess the ridges do something for you." She leaves your side to grab something from a drawer, then returns with a bottle that your abacus translates as "EZFuc Lubricant Overlay." You put it on, silently praying that this won't be the day you discover you're allergic to something. Once you're done, she playfully pushes you onto the bed. <</if>>\ <<include "8.12Natalus2">>
"Anything you're super into?" you question as she straddles your lap, then starts to trail her mandibles down your body, exploring with a nonchalantness. "Our environment slits," she murmurs against your skin, "they're sensitive to even the slightest shift in temperature." Digging her claw into your inner thigh drags a breathless gasp from your lips as she starts to work her way back north. "Some of us like it more than others." She rises back up so that you can put her words to action, and you softly blow against the slit, watching as it restricts, and she shudders against you. "Like that?" "Yes," she murmurs, and you continue on, trying to blow differently to change up the pace. Either way, you can tell she's enjoying it as her claws continue to dig into your flesh, and she starts to rub herself against your leg. You bend it, allowing her to use your knee and watch as her mandibles tremble in bliss. She shifts so that she can meet your mouth again, her tongue snaking and filling your mouth. <<if settings.showec>>\ <a data-passage="8.12Natalus3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ The next thirty or so minutes are filled with blissful, slightly rough sex that has you panting in need and feeling an ounce of energy leave you. It was the kind of sex that made you want to stay in bed, despite not knowing your partner, and frankly, not caring. It's odd to think that if tomorrow's bounty goes wrong, then this will be the last bit of intercourse you'll have in a very long time. With that in mind, at least it was satisfying. <a data-passage="8.12Natalus5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
Before you can decide on what to do next, she makes the decision for you. Lowering herself back to your core as she <<if $sex is "p">>circles the head of your cock with her tongue before slowly taking more of you into her waiting mouth. With hardly any trouble, she has almost your full length in her mouth and shows no signs of slowing. Her mouth is warm, but her saliva feels like it's cooling it down while dutifully applying lubrication. Either way, it creates an amazing sensation that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.<<elseif $sex is "v">>licks the short length of your slit, her tongue parting your lips and skirting across your opening. Carefully, she uses her claws to gain better access before sliding her tongue into you, plunging deeper with every passing second. Her breath is warm, but her tongue or saliva is actually cool, creating a unique sensation that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.<</if>> <<if $sex is "p">>\ Not realizing what you're doing until you do it, your hands find their way to her crests, gripping them tightly as you encourage her to quicken her pace. She grunts but doesn't stop you, letting you control her head and, therein, her pace. Her tongue teases the underside of your member before she shifts it around so that her mandibles rub against it. Her spit seems to coat your member because, though you can feel the points of her mandible dig into your skin, it's less sensitive than you would have imagined. Pulling you further into her mouth, you let out a low groan as you rub against some of the bumps you find inside her mouth, just as she uses her free hand to fondle your balls. Unable to keep it in, you come, your seed spilling into her patient mouth. She swallows you easily, licking your member clean before pulling back and rising just enough so that she could now ride you. "Tell me if you want me to slow down," she whispers in your ear before slamming down, starting off at a tortuously fast pace and making it impossible for her to adjust. Though you suppose she doesn't need it with the amount of lube you both have. You rest your hands on her hips, not guiding her but setting them there as a precaution. The way she slams down is slightly worrying, causing you to feel like she may try to break your dick off if she continues. Thankfully, her pace evens out, not entirely easing up but enough for your worry to lessen. <<else>>\ Her tongue circles your swollen nub, sucking at it and pulling moan after moan past your lips as you arch against her. Her large knuckles push against your hole, and a stray thought comes to mind, one concerning vetix claws and vaginas. Those things would easily tear a terran vagina apart, but would a vetix one be more adept at handling such sharp material? The idea hardly has time to settle, thanks to the work of the woman's tongue. You can feel your orgasm nearing and then spilling out of you as your juices leak down your inner thigh. Natalus doesn't miss a beat, shifting so that her tongue runs against your heated skin. She moves and positions herself against your swollen vulva, giving you a moment to figure out if the position is comfortable for you as well. Having no issue, you let her set the pace, a pace that is more of a sprint right out of the gate. Pleasure clouds your gaze as you rock your hips against her, both of your vaginas rubbing against the other. Her ridges cause you to feel an entirely different kind of sensation, one that feels so damn satisfying that you can see yourself getting lost in it. You're not sure if she's feeling it, but your lips feel like they're becoming a delicious sort of raw, the sort of raw that is made up of just sensitive nerves that have properly been pleasured. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="8.12Natalus4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $sex is "p">>\ The ridges of her pussy feel exactly like you expected, heavenly. If she had decided to slow down, it would have probably been too much. The feeling and pressure mix together to create a wave of ultimate euphoria. Natalus is a quiet partner; her moans so low that you have to hold your breath at times to even hear the slight sounds that she makes. Instead, she's more physical, her claws digging into your flesh, or how her entire body trembles, mandibles included. "Shit," she groans, leaning forward as she continues to slam down onto your cock. "Nat," you growl, "I'm getting close." She slows down her pace just enough to have better control. Typically, that would calm you down, give you a bit more time. But with how her ridges feel, milking and massaging your member at the same time, it doesn't matter. She pops off of you, shifting so that you are once again in her mouth. That earlier sensation is all that's needed to push you over the edge, and you explode into her mouth, humming in content as she once again cleans you up. The wonders of that tongue. <<else>>\ Continuing to grind against you roughly, Natalus manages to get you into a spot where she is hovering over you, and only her leg placement is keeping her from putting all of her weight down on you. You take the sweet punishment, your fingers digging into her sheets as her claws dig into your skin. Natalus is a quiet partner; her moans so low that you have to hold your breath at times to even hear the slight sounds that she makes. Instead, she's more physical, from her claws to how her entire body trembles, mandibles included. "Oh, I'm right there," you mumble, feeling your orgasm building up in your core, ready to tear free. She grabs your thighs and steadies you, those ridges successfully pushing you over the edge and causing you to quiver as a second orgasm tears through you. She releases your legs, letting them fall to the bed. <</if>>\ <<include "8.12Natalus5">>
You lie there for a few more minutes, regaining your breath as she stretches and heads into her bathroom. Upon her return, you switch spots, she takes her bed, and you move to retrieve your clothes and put them on. If Natalus wants any aftercare or even a conversation, she doesn't show it. Instead, she stretches out along her bed, watching you get dressed. Thinking up something to say finds you constantly doubting the words that come to mind until you finally decide to just quit. "Thanks," is all you manage to get out as Natalus hums, tipping her crest in your direction in farewell. "No awkward aftercare talk, just awkward farewells," you mumble as the door closes and you decide that's a good way to end your day, especially since you need to take a shower now. You head back to your room, looking forward to just lying down and sleeping. <a data-passage="8.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Securing the last bit of your armor, you stand and stretch your joints. Ignoring the small bit of ignorance resting within that dreams of beating the target within an inch of their life if only to earn a prized scowl from the Supreme Commander, you need the full amount of this bounty. If you're going to begin plotting your escape, you'll need not only better weapons but better armor. As far as you can tell, seniors and top-ranking teams and individuals get first pick. There is no plan to stay long enough to reach that level, so you'll need to have enough solars to legitimately buy it or bribe someone in the underground markets, probably the latter to avoid in-depth questioning. In truth, you'll need more than just better armor. You're going up against Tsering. At the //very// least, you'll need everything you had before that fateful day on the plane. A year isn't too gruesome a gap for so much new technology to have come out, and tech will only get you so far. But isn't that just part of the headache? You have to be faster, smarter, more technologically advanced, stronger, meaner, and more ambitious to keep Tsering at a distance; only hell knows what you must do to bring him down. And this … this isn't even speaking about your mystery assailant. Granted, they snuck up on you, a gaff that will not be repeated. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ The plane judders for a moment, <<if $cp>>causing Checl to grip the seat before catching your glance and attempting to relax. You ponder how many planes she's been on since leaving her ark. Not many if she ended up in the Outlands.<<else>>pulling a yawn as you attempt to relax in your seat.<</if>> "$name," Zihr starts, his expression serious as he comes over. "We need to talk about your role in this bounty." //Your role in this bounty.// Your upper lip rises in distaste, an action you're unaware of until your mind catches up to your instincts. [[“This should be fun.”|8.13ShouldBeFun]] [[“Do tell.”|8.13DoTell]] [[“I thought I already had one.”|8.13AlreadyHadOne]] [[“Scared I'll kill them?”|8.13ScaredKill]] <<else>>\ The ride is quiet. <<if $cp>>The others sit beside one another, mostly silent and in their thoughts, but periodically turning to one another and discussing something.<<else>>Zihr and Ne0 sit beside one another, murmuring and laughing about something.<</if>> You could have chosen to sit next to them, but here you are, on the far side. At your side rests an antsy $hound, his tongue flicks through the air, and upon learning that he's still in a confined space, he growls loudly. It's odd. In a way, this is just another hunt. But this hunt could mean so much, and you still haven't grasped just how bad this can go. It's a shaph, not a trarkran, but what if it comes down to you or him? What if he's getting away? Is letting him go a better choice than finishing the job? You're not exactly sure if that'll give you another chance on another day or if the Supreme Commander will summarize all that up to mean that you either kill or let the person go. <a data-passage="8.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Well, this should be a fun talk." "Should it?" "I'm estimating that whatever you come up with is going to be something I don't want to hear and probably won't cooperate in, so sure." <<include "8.13ZihrLeader1">>
"Do tell. I'm all ears." He squints in bewilderment, but you wave away the cultural saying before he can ask too much about it. One of these days, you'll want to just sit in a room with other species and hear all of their common sayings and phrases and what they mean. You may be able to add a few new ones to your repertoire. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader1">>
"I thought I already had one," you point out. "Last I checked, I was the $class." "You still are. That's not exactly the role I mean. Or, I guess it is." You raise a brow as he seems to try to figure out what he means to say, until completely abandoning it. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader1">>
"Scared I'll kill them?" <<include "8.13ZihrLeader1">>
"Look, none of us wants to see you getting on a prison transport at the end of the day. And all of us want to do this right and get the full amount. So, just be a team player for once in your life and take a supporting role. I'm not saying stand around and do nothing but -" "But you are indeed benching me." "I don't know what that means," he admits. "But if it means that you take up the rear and stand around. Then yes." He clears his throat, and you narrow your eyes as he takes on the appearance of a man with more bad news. "I also think it'd be best if you surrendered your weapon." He holds his hand out expectantly, and you blankly stare at it. A million—not a dozen or a hundred—thoughts rush through your mind as you stare at that awaiting palm. Some of those thoughts understood his fear and the need for precaution. Others were just how crazy he had to be to think that you would give your weapon over. Then some were more action-based than verbal; none of those ended well for either of you, especially while on a transport. You take a deep breath in, trying to steady both your mind and body. [[Give it to him.|8.13Give][$noweapon to true]] [[Keep it.|8.13Keep]]
Slowly, as if trying to show an enemy that you would not fight back, you demagnetize your weapon and hand it over. Zihr is at least smart enough to know not to make some snarky comment or flash you some superior grin. He simply rotates it to stow in one of his own empty holster slots. "You're gonna be okay?" he asks, brow raised. [[“I feel naked.”|8.13Naked]] [[“You know I can kill without a gun?”|8.13KillNoWeapon]] [[“Don't ask me stupid questions.”|8.13StupidQuestions]] [[“Yea, I'll be fine.”|8.13BeFine]]
"I feel naked," you grimace, Zihr chuckling softly. "Yea, I can understand that. Look, $name, I'm-" You raise your hand to stop him. "Don't. You asked, and I gave it to you without furthering the issue. Let's just leave it there. If I think about it too much, this'll just dissolve into an argument neither of us cares for." He nods, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing as you, that this is probably the most sensible you've ever been to one another. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader2">>
"You do know I can still kill without a gun, right?" "That mysterious training of yours making you into an all-out weapon, I'm guessing." There's a bit of what you would consider envy or irritation underlying his words, but not enough to goad you into an engagement. "Just know, hands can choke a man out just as thoroughly as a gun can rip a hole through a cranium." "A lovely image to consider," he sighs, turning to go. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader2">>
"Don't ask me stupid questions. You'd be pissed if I pulled the same thing on you." "You're right," he nods. "But I'd also understand why you did it and just bite my tongue." "Then consider my tongue, bit." He nods, nothing more to say, as he turns and heads back. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader2">>
"Yea, I'll be fine." Zihr considers you for a moment longer, possibly trying to come up with something to say since you actually submitted. When he comes across nothing, he only nods and heads back. <<include "8.13ZihrLeader2">>
Placing your attention back on $hound, you ponder if certain actions were wise. You are naked. You're going out there with just a secondary weapon that <<if $w_secondary is "pistol">>is a gun, but not one you can rely on like your primary.<<else>>won't do much if you find yourself in a fight against someone with a gun.<</if>> You have your moi̥ in the worst-case scenario. <<if $markings is "gold">>Focusing internally and calming your breathing, you attempt to read where its current levels are. A trarkran could probably do this with little to no issue; even the kids probably don't need to focus to stay in touch with their levels. But you're not a trarkran, and their 'gift' is in an unfit body. Finishing the check, you realize you can use a discharge, though not mandatory.<<else>>It's been a while since you discharged, and though you're not keen on having the others see such a thing happen, it is your last defense.<</if>> <a data-passage="8.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You glance from his hand to back up at him, trying to keep from snorting. "No. No way." "$name," he hisses, but you wave his anger away. "Throw a hissy fit if you want, but I'm not giving you my weapon. You want me to walk into an active hunt without it, that's madness." "That's me trying to keep your stubborn ass here and someone from dying." "Stop thinking I'll kill them." "You've proven that I can't just do that." "I don't care. I'm not surrendering my weapon over. Unless you're about to pull rank." Frankly, even if he did, you still wouldn't give him your gun. Vittorio or Commander Sin would have to order that for you to even start contemplating the action. But, you were curious to see just how far Zihr would go with this." He shakes his head, taking a step back. "Like I said, I'm trying to help you. If you want to get out of here, that's on you." You watch him retake his seat as you return your attention to $hound. His tongue flicks through the air, and upon learning that he's still in a confined space, he growls loudly. It's odd. In a way, this is just another hunt. But this hunt could mean so much, and you still haven't grasped just how bad this can go. It's a shaph, not a trarkran, but what if it comes down to you or him? What if he's getting away? Is letting him go a better choice than finishing the job? You're not exactly sure if that'll give you another chance on another day or if the Supreme Commander will summarize all that up to mean that you either kill or let the person go. <a data-passage="8.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Alright," Vittorio shouts, standing in front of the cockpit threshold. "We're placing you down <<if $breed is "blood">>here at the request of $name. The other teams know that you may wander into their sectors; you're the only team with that permission. Don't make me regret pulling those strings. <<else>> here, the other teams are at their sectors and will be sweeping them.<</if>> Your task is to track down the bounty, call it in, and apprehend. If you can, figure out why they dropped off the radar, but that's secondary." You feel the helicopter land, and the doors soon slide open, letting your team disembark. "I'll be here monitoring," Vittorio shouts after you. "Radio in when you have the bounty, and I'll give you the coordinates for extraction. Buona fortuna." He then heads back inside, leaving your team to complete the bounty. You find yourself curious about where on Crion you are. You can't spot any buildings, meaning that you're deep in the wilds of the planet. But you also don't see the similar mountain range of the Spires. There are some stalagmite mountains, but they are much too small. Perhaps once part of the greater rocky chain, but no longer due to below-surface interference. A myriad of crystals dot the land, coupled with large root-like spines that shoot up out of the ground. The duo, when scattered sensibly enough, makes it easy to spot the horizon. But when they form clusters, they act like trees, blocking the view and forcing you to shift to regain an idea of the terrain. <a data-passage="8.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $breed is "blood">>\ "Alright," Zihr starts, "what did he mean by putting us here on your request?" You gesture to $hound, who is already taking an interest in his new surroundings. "$hound can track blood. If there's still some in this area, then he can track it down to the source." <<if $cp>>"That'll help out considerably," Checl states, patting the aiczeots on the head.<<else>>"Ah," Zihr starts, peering over at the aiczeots. "I'm starting to see why so many others feel like our team is just one big cheat."<</if>> You whistle the command for him to seek, nodding your chin to the cluster of crystals and rocks before you. $hound immediately moves forward, already seeming to have locked into something of interest. Hopefully, it's a trace of blood and not some prey animal. <<if $gonknown is 1 or $gonknown is 2>>In the back of your mind, you keep all of the things you discovered and speculate about Gon.<</if>> Following him, you navigate across the land, your team close behind. <<if $cp>>\ "So what happens after he finds the scent?" Checl questions. "He'll give me some kind of sign when he's either lost track of the source or is close to it. He won't move in any closer unless I say." "So, all we have to do is wait?" "Pros of having an aiczeots that can track blood, dontcha think?" "How does someone manage to hide out here anyway?" A great question, honestly. The more you walk, the more you find it nearly impossible for someone to go off the grid here of all places. In fact, it causes you to pause as you glance around at your environment. <<else>>\ "What do we do once he finds whatever he's looking for?" "Depends on what he ends up finding. We may come across the target or he may lose the scent long before." "Alright. Then tell me what we're doing for both of those scenarios." <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the leader?" "It's your aiczeots." "Yes," you hum, rolling your eyes, "because that little fact is all that's required for you to finally listen to me." He glares over at you but you decide to travel past before either of you can descend into another back and forth. <<else>>\ "Patience, Zihr. It makes little sense to make up plans when we don't have a big enough picture." <</if>>\ Continuing forth, you keep an eye on $hound as well as your surroundings. Something that bothers you is the possibility of someone successfully going off the grid here of all places. In fact, the more the thought shifts around, the slower your pace becomes as you glance around at your environment. <</if>>\ Losing someone in this area feels completely ridiculous, something that shouldn't be possible, and yet … No. The area is too sparse. The only alternatives is that Gon went underground but disappearing into some kind of safe house … no. And that still doesn't exactly explain how. Law enforcement should have powerful enough technology to counteract anything that could jam their radar. <<else>>\ <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "Alright, everyone," Zihr starts, checking his gun as if that task wasn't done multiple times on the flight over. "We make a march towards the center, each of us staying a specific distance apart to cover more area but also to be viable backup." He doesn't wait to see if anyone has any questions, or more specifically to see if you'll argue, and heads out. You suppose he's learning. <<else>>\ "Alright, $name," Zihr starts, checking his gun as if that task wasn't done multiple times on the flight over. "What's the plan?" "Fan out. Radio in anything that looks odd or out of place. Other than that, radio silence." You all separate, adding enough distance between you to encompass a larger search perimeter but still aid another if the need arises. The area is silent, no wildlife, no signs of the other teams, or that of Gon. Their injured, but that doesn't mean they stayed behind, what makes the leadership even think Gon remained? Would've been marked if they did, but not so true depending on how they managed to go off grid out here. Losing someone in this area feels completely ridiculous, something that shouldn't be possible, and yet … No. The area is too sparse. The only alternatives is that Gon went underground but disappearing into some kind of safe house … no. And that still doesn't exactly explain how. Law enforcement should have powerful enough technology to counteract anything that could jam their radar. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $smarts >=10>>\ [[Follow through on your hunch.|8.15SmartHunch]] <</if>>\ [[Continue on, it doesn't matter.|8.15DoesntMatter]] [[“Ne0, run an analysis.”|8.15Ne0Analysis]]
"A moment," you communicate to the others, allowing $hound to continue without issuing a similar order. You pull up your terminal and navigate to your short-range sensors, finding them to be fine. Now, to test the hunch. "What's the problem?" Zihr asks over the comms, his voice tinged with impatience. "I'm surprised no one realized this," you mumble as you make your way towards one of the crystals, looking it over. Though they appear to be the same, they're not wholly identical to the ones in the Spires. These require far less sun, and because soil composition and density differ significantly, they have developed unique traits. One of those traits may just be a natural jammer. You bring your terminal to the crystal to check, finding that nothing happens. Glancing around, you look for a cluster and set a path for them. <<if $cp>>"Realized what?" Checl questions.<<else>>"$name, what are you on about?"<</if>> Once at the crystal grouping, you do the same thing you did to the previous ones, finding that though your tech does show signs of being impacted, it's not enough to lose signal. So, it's possible, but it would require a massive pile of these crystals to cause any kind of interference. Not just that, but they would have to form some kind of boundary … Or … a good enough mind, along with the right tech, could just enhance their strength. "$name!" Zihr snaps, pulling you out of your musings. He sounds close enough to actually be standing near you instead of a couple of yards away, no doubt glaring. "I'm onto something, but not quite there," you admit, straightening and retaking your spot in the perimeter line. He doesn't say anything else, allowing you to continue thinking. Mystery after mystery, it seems. <a data-passage="8.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Ne0," you say over comms, "can you run an analysis of the surrounding area?" It remains silent for some time. "Analysis complete. Query unknown." "Check for nearby electromagnetic interference, any degree of frequency." "Significantly low amplitudes determined." "What's causing it?" "Crystals." <<if $cp>>\ "What is any of this for?" Checl asks, but you shush her. <</if>>\ "Ne0, I need you to run a simulation. What would the interference be if a cluster of these crystals, say … of a two-meter circumference, was detected?" Again, silence. "Low amplitude determined." So, they're not strong enough even when grouped together. But the simulation at least proved that they are causing interference. What to do with that new information is what stumps you. "Great, are we done playing with crystals now?" Zihr snorts. "Let's get back to the hunt." <a data-passage="8.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
If high-grade tech and expert minds couldn't figure out why radar was dropped, there's no way you will. Nor do you see the importance of figuring it out. Your job isn't to figure that out but to find the shaph that's hidden somewhere in the area. And, seeing that it affects how long you'll be staying with the bounty hunters, you would much rather find them first than sit here and figure out possible electric interferences. <<include "8.16">>
<<if $breed is "blood">>\ Your trek continues on. If you have traveled into another team's area, you're unsure, as there have been no signs of life since you touched down. A fact that bothers you. Crion is known to be quite desolate; that much is true, but it still houses creatures. You should at least hear some of the insects. $hound lets out a nearly mute yelp, his pace slowing until he's sitting down. "Guess he lost the scent?" Zihr questions more than states. You examine $hound's posture more closely. If he is truly sitting down, then yes, but if he was more so in a sitting pounce position, then no. You check his middle and back legs, noting that most of his weight is balanced forward. No, he didn't lose anything; he was just waiting for you to give the command. "We're close," you tell them, ordering for $hound to stand down. His job is over, and you can't use him anymore; otherwise, it'll be yet another death on your hands. The Supreme Commander may just think you did it intentionally if you bring back a dead body. $hound whines, his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he licks at the ground incessantly, indicating to you that he's not pleased in the slightest about this new development. You pat his side. "How close?" Zihr asks, coming to your side. "$hound usually gives the signal when we're within a few kilometers." "So, still a bit of walking." "Possibly." <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "Alright, we continue the previous plan, but we need to be even more vigilant. $name, maybe it's best that you stay further back." "Oh, here we go," you sigh, but Zihr doesn't entertain an argument, only turning his back to you as he starts to walk off. Fine. You'll play along. At the end of the day, you just need this bounty. If you have to play a supporting role in their capture, then so be it. You need to figure out your next steps, and you can't do that with limited time and in the back of a police transport. <<else>>\ "What do you want to do?" "What we were doing before. We just need to be more vigilant now." He nods, appearing like he wants to say something, and you almost believe he'll keep it to himself. "Maybe it's best that you stay further back." "You have got to be kidding me." "Not at all. You'll get credit, so why does it matter just how much of an active role you played? For once," he sighs, visibly biting his tongue. "Just. Stay back." <<if $cp>>\ "I second that," Checl chimes in through the comms, almost earning a harsh shut up from you. "Agreeable conditions," Ne0 says before you can say anything to Checl, and you actually find yourself growing quiet. Zihr and Checl teaming up against you is normal; you're used to that. But Ne0. Et tu? <<else>>\ "Agreeable conditions," Ne0 says before you can say anything to Zihr, who has already begun walking off. Hearing Ne0 agree leaves you speechless. Zihr is a given. But Ne0. Et tu? <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<else>>\ Your trek continues on. If you have traveled into another team's area, you're unsure, as there have been no signs of life since you touched down. A fact that bothers you. Crion is known to be quite desolate; that much is true, but it still houses creatures. You should at least hear some of the insects. "$name." You slightly turn to see Zihr approaching. "Maybe it's best that you stay further back." <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ <<if $noweapon>>\ "First, you leave me weapon-less. Now, you're trying to bench me?" "I'm trying to make sure you aren't on a prison shuttle by the end of the day." "Is this your new excuse? How's it going for you." "Just stay back, $name," he grumbles, walking off. Next, you'll learn that he voted you off the island, hoping the decision will save you from yourself. Fine. You'll play along. At the end of the day, you just need this bounty. If you have to play a supporting role in their capture, then so be it. You need to figure out your next steps, and you can't do that with limited time and in the back of a police transport. <<else>>\ "Oh, here we go," you sigh, but Zihr doesn't entertain an argument, only turning his back to you as he starts to walk off. Fine. You'll play along. At the end of the day, you just need this bounty. If you have to play a supporting role in their capture, then so be it. You need to figure out your next steps, and you can't do that with limited time and in the back of a police transport. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "What do you want to do?" "What we were doing before. We just need to be more vigilant now." He nods, appearing like he wants to say something, and you almost believe he'll keep it to himself. "Maybe it's best that you stay further back." "You have got to be kidding me." "Not at all. You'll get credit, so why does it matter just how much of an active role you played? For once," he sighs, visibly biting his tongue. "Just. Stay back." <<if $cp>>\ "I second that," Checl chimes in through the comms, almost earning a harsh shut up from you. "Agreeable conditions," Ne0 says before you can say anything to Checl, and you actually find yourself growing quiet. Zihr and Checl teaming up against you is normal; you're used to that. But Ne0. Et tu? <<else>>\ "Agreeable conditions," Ne0 says before you can say anything to Zihr, who has already begun walking off. Hearing Ne0 agree leaves you speechless. Zihr is a given. But Ne0. Et tu? <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="8.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your group continues on, entering the area where the miniature spires rest. Up close, they're tall, but that only reminds you just how gigantic those in the Spires are. These, you could attempt to climb if you wanted, a feat you would have never done in the Spires, even though there were probably far more footholds. The entire area is strange, a hodgepodge of small mountainous rock, crystal, and the weird plant you didn't quite know the name of. It feels like someone just dropped them all off here and, as one grew closer to Tebriri and Taouron's borders, decided that only the crystals could remain. Again, the ease for someone to hide here is called into question. The simple truth is that there is no place to hide unless they go underground. Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted. <<if $cp>>\ "Movement!" Checl shouts over the comms, and you instantly begin searching for her. You just barely see her sprinting towards something, screaming for whatever—or whoever—she chases to stop. You dart after her, hoping to cover just as much ground when you hiss in pain and fall forward, hearing the sound of something electrical sparking up. Glancing behind you, you notice bindings around both of your ankles, keeping you in place to the anchor. A ways off, you hear her shriek in what your brain interprets as shock and pain. "Checl!" you shout, forcing yourself to pause and take a breath to calm down. Franticness won't get you out of this trap, and it damn sure won't help Checl. "What's going on?" Zihr shouts over the comms. "Go get Checl," you tell him, focusing on the electric binding around your legs. "She should be northwest of your current location." <<if $tech >=10 and $mod_hacking>>You rack your brain for the name of the cuffs. Specific brands have set frequencies that cause them to short-circuit, while others just need a bit of teasing to release. On others, if one can find the anchor, they can actually free themselves.<<else>>The smartest thing to do is call Ne0 and hope that it can free you while Zihr helps Checl. But it may be quicker to find the anchor, you can take care of yourself, Checl cannot.<</if>> "Gon is here," you hear her say in between gasps, "they're with another shaph." "Stay back, Checl<<if $leader is "Zihr">>, that's an order<</if>>," Zihr shouts, but you hear no further word from Checl. [[Call Ne0.|8.17CallNe0]] [[Find the anchor.|8.17Anchor]] <<if $tech >=10 and $mod_hacking>>[[Figure out the brand.|8.17Brand]]<</if>> <<else>>\ "Movement!" you shout, immediately giving chase as you watch the figure turn in an attempt to avoid your glance. Too late. "$name! Stay back!" you hear Zihr shout over the comms, but you ignore him. You're not just going to stand there and wait for him or Ne0 to reach you. Following the figure, you contemplate sending $hound out after them, but decide against it in the end. You never did practice a detain command. <a data-passage="8.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Ne0," you shout over the comms, "while Zihr goes to Checl, you come to me. I have found myself in a … situation." "$name, I swear-," Zihr starts, his comms starting to go in and out, a fact that piques your curiosity. "On route," Ne0 answers you. A couple of minutes later, Ne0 appears, slowing at your side as it focuses on the trap. A few seconds tick by before Ne0 finally acts, pressing a single digit against the current as it sputters out, then dies. "You can send electric pulses?" "Affirmative." It reaches out to help you to your feet, and before you can say anything more, it begins to run in the direction you had seen Checl going. You sigh, but sprint after it. You can hear the others on your comm, but something interferes, making it mostly static. Then, you hear a lone shot ring out. <a data-passage="8.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You need to find the anchor. From there, you can probably break it or at least find the off button. Common sense says it'll be buried, so this is a trap connected to the ground. But that also means you'll have to dig<<if $breed is "earth">>… or not so much.<<else>>.<</if>> <<if $breed is "earth">>\ "$hound," you call, performing the set of whistles that command him to use his ability. He doesn't immediately do it, licking the air, before growing curious at the trap. It takes him a bit of time to figure out what is going on, and when he does, he needs no further instruction. He trots around your vicinity before finally stopping a few feet away. You watch as he grounds himself, his head directed at the ground just as it begins to shift and shake. You watch as a sinkhole forms in a specific area, revealing the anchor. You wouldn't have guessed the anchor to be all the way over there, but thankfully, you have $hound. $hound digs the area around it before you give him the command to destroy it, a task that's probably even simpler than unearthing it. Just a swipe from his claw is all it takes to release you. "Good boy," you mutter, patting him in thanks before heading in the direction that Checl was. <<else>>\ "$hound," you call out, gesturing to the ground. "You mind helping?" He sits, but makes no move to do anything more. You simply roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby rock to interrupt the ground as you begin moving sand and dirt out of the way. He at least seems to understand what you're trying to do, so he comes and helps dig. It takes far longer than you expect to find the origins of the trap a few feet away, just far enough to be out of reach, but thankfully, you have $hound. You give him the command to destroy it, and a swipe from his claw is all it takes to release you. "Good boy," you mutter, patting him in thanks before heading in the direction that Checl was. <</if>>\ You can hear the others on your comm, but something interferes, making it mostly static. Then, you hear a lone shot ring out. <a data-passage="8.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You pull up your terminal and start a program that will aid you. While the program loads, you study the cuffs in hopes of finding a brand name. If there is one, it's attached to the anchor, which isn't visible. So, you're forced to study the design and the way the currents present themselves. You narrow it down to Zisca Magnetics or Vern Electronics. The former is a leading producer and one of the most lousy, easy to purchase, but always has some kind of issue, and is easy enough to disrupt if an individual is knowledgeable enough. Vern is a toss-up. Their consumer products have a failsafe, but their military-grade products are far more difficult to best. Shaking your head, you tailor the program to send a pulse that would disrupt Zisca's property's pulse. Crion has contracts with Vern, but it shouldn't extend to the people here; it's just a … low-effort smuggler … Frowning, you back up, giving the program the command to try and counteract what Vern is known for. Something is tickling your brain, telling you that none of this is as it seems. You run the program and watch as the currents sputter out before dying completely. There should be relief flooding through you; instead, you're left confused and bothered. You can hear the others on your comm, but something interferes, making it mostly static. Then, you hear a lone shot ring out. <a data-passage="8.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("7.02TeachHer")>>\ <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>\ "Checl," you scream, running even faster as you come up on the others. As soon as you see her, you practically slide across the ground to make it to her side quicker. Your hands softly grab onto her face as you look her over, trying to find any wounds or blood, anything that will tell you what's wrong. "I'm fine," she manages to mumble, and though you're not entirely calmed down, you're calm enough to think and realize your current positioning. Slowly, you remove your hands while looking her and the situation over. She looks a little worse for wear, but otherwise seems fine. Her uniform is dirty, there's a haunted look in her eye, and her grip on her gun is still tight. A body lies a few feet in front of both of you, and you're almost shocked you didn't see it when running up to her. Zihr is nowhere to be seen, but Ne0 stands over her, looking clueless about what to do. "Hey," you whisper softly, placing your hand back over hers. "It's over. Give me the gun." "$name," she starts, but you shush her, shaking your head as you place a soft kiss on her forehead. The action itself causes your heart to thunder wildly, and you can't deny that a voice cackles, calling you an idiot. But you don't dwell. "We'll talk about it later." The dead body is a raza, meaning Gon is still out there. <<else>>\ "Checl," you scream, running even faster as you come up on the others. Checl looks a little worse for wear, but otherwise seems fine. Her uniform is dirty, there's a haunted look in her eye, and you can … Blinking, you take in the entire scene. A body lies in front of her, with her gun still clutched between her talons. Zihr is nowhere to be seen, but Ne0 stands over her, looking clueless about what to do. "Hey," you murmur, bending down to her level. "It's over. Give me the gun." "I … I didn't mean to … I was … I didn't … they were …" "Shh. We'll talk about it later." You go over to the dead body, noticing that it was a raza, not a shaph, which meant this wasn't Gon. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "Checl," you scream, running even faster as you come up on the others. Checl lies on the ground, Ne0 looking her over, while a dead body lies not too far away. "What happened?" you question, bending down and still trying to understand the situation. "I didn't know what to do," Checl coughs, flinching from a bad bruise that lies across her once unblemished skin. <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>\ You delicately take her face in your hand, performing a thorough check. Thankfully, it seems like the only bruises are a few on her arm and the one on her face. Obviously, she came out the victor in whatever happened here, if only it is because she still breathes. <<else>>\ You take a moment to look her over, spotting bruises along her arms but nowhere else. Obviously, she came out the victor in whatever happened here, if only it is because she still breathes. <</if>>\ "Ne0?" you question. "Target threatened Checl. Neutralized." How you wish you had someone like this back in your school days, straight to the facts, probably would be a great study buddy. You go over to the dead body, noticing that it was a raza, not a shaph, which means this isn't Gon. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="8.18.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "$name," you hear Zihr repeat over the comms, a bit of crackle accompanying it. "We … over here. Can you … whether or … chasing Gon?" <<if $agility >=10>>Hypothesizing what he says, you'll be able to get an ID in a moment. Though it's not immediate, you are gaining on the figure, the space shrinking little by little until you're close enough to see that it is indeed a shaph.<<else>>Hypothesizing what he says, you'd be able to get an ID if you were faster. They're pulling away; it's obvious, and you're steadily losing energy.<</if>> <<if $agility >=10>>\ "I got Gon!" you tell them, pushing yourself to go faster, just a bit more, and you can tackle them. "Don't ... $name. ... coming." You at least have a valid reason to ignore him, seeing that he's once again going in and out. Once finally within lunging range, you dive, your hand wrapping around fabric and yanking it down to the ground as you go. A boot to the face follows a mouth full of dirt, but it doesn't deter you. At most, you reach out with your other hand to grab onto Gon's ankle. Using it to pull yourself forward, you blindly punch, hitting something and hearing a grunt. "Get off, meat stick," Gon grunts, using an arm to grab your shirt and throw you off, but you refuse to let go of them. "Shut the fuck up," you answer, grabbing a fistful of dirt and throwing it into their face. They shout but release you as they attempt to get away. You kick them in the ribcage, sending them right back to their knees as you use your shoulder to charge into them. The two of you grapple, Gon managing to land more punches while you can do nothing but aim for areas that you know may manage to debilitate them. "Enough!" you hear Zihr shout, his voice not coming over the comms, and both you and the shaph pause as you look at the raza, his weapon drawn. "I win," you snort to Gon, landing one last punch as you roll away. Zihr keeps the gun trained on them as you head to his side, attempting to figure out just how bruised your body feels. "Calling transport," Ne0 states as it arrives. Zihr approaches and secures both of Gon's wrists with the cuffs, forcing them to stand up. You grab onto their arm, guiding them behind Ne0, who silently gestures for you to follow. <a data-passage="8.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <<if $mod_banshee>>[[Use the banshee call.]]<<else>>Use the banshee call.<</if>> <<if $noweapon is false or $w_secondary is "pistol">>[[Shoot them in the leg or knee.]]><<else>>Shoot them in the leg or knee.<</if>> [[Order hound, carefully.|8.18OrderHound]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\
"Where did Zihr go?" you ask Ne0, and it points to the west. You nod, not bothering to tell it to stay with Checl as you rush in the direction. You grow closer to the spires, just as you spot a bright current of electricity racing towards you. You narrowly avoid it, sliding across the ground as you point a gun towards the shooter. <<if $noweapon>>It takes a moment to realize what you now hold, and you almost snort, oh, Zihr is going to have so much to say about this.<</if>> "Where are they?" you call out, surmising that Zihr will be in the area. "Stay back," Zihr hisses at you, but you ignore him, your eyes still searching the area. "$name, I'm-" "Shut up and-" The entire sentence isn't able to make it out of your mouth as the person you surmise is Gon attempts to shoot you again. Missing and inevitably giving away their location, you shoot forward. You scan the area, understanding how they got to the perch behind one of the spires. You follow the path, using one of the crystals as a boost to one of the odd plants, hoping it's strong enough to support your weight. Finding it, you climb up the stem, then throw yourself to the nearest stalagmite, grabbing hold of a ledge and pulling yourself up. "$name!" you hear Zihr shout, an irritating tone letting you know exactly how he feels. You continue on, jumping to a much narrower ledge that puts you right in front of Gon. Your next action is more stupid, but there's nothing else you can do. Grabbing Gon, you allow gravity and a loss of balance to pull you backward, Gon following you as you go tumbling to the ground and grapple. "Fuck you, meat-stick," Gon growls, landing a punch to your side as your elbow hits their eye. "Enough!" Zihr shouts, drawing closer. "How did you think that would end?" you snort to Gon, landing one last punch as you roll away. Zihr keeps the gun trained on them as you head to his side, attempting to figure out just how bruised your body feels. You feel like you're getting too old for this. "Calling transport," Ne0 states as it arrives, supporting Checl as they draw near. Zihr approaches and secures both of Gon's wrists with the cuffs, forcing them to stand up. You grab onto their arm, guiding them behind Ne0, who silently gestures for you to follow. <a data-passage="8.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You pull up the terminal, head to your mods, and activate the banshee one. If you're correct in your assumptions about how it works, you shouldn't be harmed by it whatsoever. You hear a ding, but nothing follows it, and yet, you can see Gon suddenly stop as they drop to their knees, covering their ears. Seems like you made a wise investment, especially since it's a niche type of mod. You catch up to them and attempt to land a punch, but their lower two arms grab you before it can connect. They send you soaring overhead, and you skid across dirt and rock. A well-made uniform plus shields makes such a tumble damn near soft. Scrambling out of the way, you just narrowly avoid Gon's charge, using your foot to hook under theirs and trip them. They land on you, landing some punches as you can do nothing more than try to shove their larger frame off of you. You manage to at least get from underneath them, placing a foot on their face to create more space, but they just grab your leg and pull you closer. "Enough!" you hear Zihr shout, his voice not coming over the comms, and both you and the shaph pause as you look at the raza, his weapon drawn. "I win," you snort to Gon, landing one last punch as you roll away. Zihr keeps the gun trained on them as you head to his side, attempting to figure out just how bruised your body feels. "Calling transport," Ne0 states as it arrives. Zihr approaches and secures both of Gon's wrists with the cuffs, forcing them to stand up. You grab onto their arm, guiding them behind Ne0, who silently gestures for you to follow. <a data-passage="8.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $noweapon>>Thankfully, you didn't give Zihr your weapon. Of course, what you're about to do is exactly what he didn't want you doing, but hey, what can you do?<<else>>Grabbing your secondary, you think about how much shit you'll hear from Zihr for doing this. Even more, how much shit you'll give yourself if you end up missing and hitting something vital.<</if>> You stop running and aim your weapon. You're going to just have to hope that shaph anatomy is not dramatically different than your own, at least in the leg. Pulling the trigger, you watch as he goes tumbling to the ground, shouting a series of expletives, some you understand and others that refuse to translate. "I'd advise you to stay down," you tell Gon as you approach. "Otherwise I'll have to guess where your vitals are, and //hope// I miss them." "Fuckin' meat-stick," he grumbles, clutching their leg. "At least stop the bleeding." "No, I think you'll be okay. I don't like wasting stuff." They surge to their feet as if to tackle you, but scream out in pain instead, tumbling right back down. "$name?" Zihr questions as he approaches, his frown deepening as he looks from the bleeding shaph to the gun in your hands. "Save it," you say, raising your hand. "Obviously, they're still alive. I know how to aim." "The last few hunts would disagree." "Give me the cuffs," you grumble, practically snatching them from him as you put them on Gon and force them up to their leg, having to aid them due to the leg. "Transport contacted," Ne0 tells you upon its arrival. You throw Zihr a lopsided grin that says 'see, no harm done,' but he ignores you as you lead Gon behind a leading Ne0. <a data-passage="8.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You wince, but there's only one viable option, lest you want Gon to get away. Either you send $hound in or you lose Gon, and hope for … something. "Don't maim them," you tell $hound, who only licks the air in his usual fashion. You almost want to tweak the command, hope that $hound, in all his brilliance, will realize what you somehow want and do it. But that may be just as dangerous. Better to give the command than order him to stop as soon as you see that he's got the shaph down. Giving the command, $hound bounds off, shooting towards the shaph like an arrow let loose. You sprint after him, hoping to be as close as possible so you know what's going on. You're not even halfway there when you hear the shaph scream out in pain, and you command $hound to stand down. You repeat the order at least two more times so $hound knows that you're serious, and by the time you get to the two of them, $hound is simply standing there with Gon's bloody arm still in his mouth. "Help me!" Gon cries. "Please." "Definitely needs to work on that," you mumble, whistling the stand down command yet again. This time, $hound drops the arm and backs away, performing a yelping whine of confusion. You want to reassure him, but it's not the time, especially not with the approaching figures. "$name?" Zihr questions as he approaches, his frown deepening as he looks from the bleeding shaph to the gun in your hands. "Save it and just give me the cuffs," you grumble, practically snatching them from him as you put them on Gon and force them up to their feet, being careful not to mess with the bloody side. "Transport contacted," Ne0 tells you upon its arrival. You throw Zihr a lopsided grin that says 'see, no harm done,' but he ignores you as you lead Gon behind a leading Ne0. <a data-passage="8.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You were supposed to stay back," Zihr grumbles, and you wonder if he could visibly see the vein bulging out of your forehead. Forcing Gon to stop and get on their knees, you turn to face Zihr. "I'm starting to think your issue with me is simply due to me being better than you, and you can't cope with the knowledge." "You inflate your own ego," he growls as he walks past you. No, you refuse to let him get away from this conversation. This back-and-forth has been going on for far too long, and frankly, you really don't understand what his issue is. At first, you thought it was all due to a horrendous first impression; then, to your falsely perceived cockiness and inability to stay out of trouble; now, you believe it's just his way of flirting or something equally childish. Regardless, it has gone on for long enough. "Impossible when you're always there, ready to pop it. My very existence seems to aggravate you. I can't wipe my ass without you telling me how I messed it up." "Don't be disgusting. My problem is that you're not a team player. You never listen. You want the glory with none of the sacrifice, and you know what the worst part is? You get it! You walk around as if you're untouchable, talk to people however you like, threaten them, and at most, you get a slap on the wrist. You don't have to learn any hard lessons because you get out of each and every problem by shoving that problem onto someone else. You would gladly sacrifice any of us as long as it benefits your secretive goals and expect us to be okay with that." "I don't expect anything from any of you. If you want to walk around with a chip on your shoulder. So be it." "There it is!" he shouts, the tip of his ears growing more red by the minute. "Have you ever said the words: I fucked up. I'm sorry?" <<if $cp>>\ "Guys, this is not the place for this," Checl says, but she may as well have been whispering because neither of you pays her much mind. <</if>>\ [[“The truth is coming out.”|8.19TruthComingOut]] [[Ignore him.|8.19Ignore]] [[“What are you on about?”|8.19OnAbout]] [[“You wanna have this out now?”|8.19HaveThisOut]] [[“Don't you dare.”|8.19Dare]]
"The truth is finally coming out, ladies and gentlemen. About damn time. So, let me get this straight. You don't like me because you just believe I'm some lucky terran." "Believe?" he snorts. "You are. None of us would have been given as many chances as you." "How do you know that?" "Because none of us have whatever the fuck it is you have going on. I don't care what those markings mean, and my care for your past extends only so far as it concerns the safety of the rest of us. But you keep parading it around as if all of it makes you better than the rest of us. As if all of it makes you worthy enough to keep going, and the rest of us are collateral." <<include "8.20">>
You're set to ignore him, you've done it plenty of times so why would this time be any different. "No," he snaps, his amber eyes filling with righteous anger. "Not this time. Talk. Explain why you can't ever do something for the sake of the team. You don't want to be here, then go beg Commander Sin or the Supreme Commander to let you go solo. We don't want you here if you don't want to be here, dragging us down with you because we know you don't care about what happens to us." <<include "8.20">>
"What are you on about this time, Zihr?" "You know damn well what I'm talking about." "I think you just really like hearing yourself talk and arguing with me is just one of your favorite pastimes." "I'd revel in the moment where we could come to some kind of agreement. But you refuse to see your own flaws. Or, if you do, you just like to hide them under this sarcastic persona that you probably spent so long crafting up." <<include "8.20">>
"Alright, Zihr. Is that what you want? To have this specific conversation here and now?" "Why not," he snorts. "If I leave it up to you, you won't have it at all. You'll just say some witty, annoying line that's supposed to keep this mysterious charade of yours up. You always have an excuse." <<include "8.20">>
"Don't you dare," you shout, balling your fist up. "You don't know half of the shit I went through-" "Exactly!" he shouts back, "No one does, $name. You keep yourself so wound up and then get mad when situations like this come up. I can do nothing but make generalizations because you give us nothing. To us, you're just a spotted terran who likes to play mystery games with everyone's mind." <<include "8.20">>
<<if $emotion >=50>>"It's a testament of my patience because otherwise, I'd punch the fuck out of you," you warn, doing all that you can to calm down. You scan the skies for the helicopter, needing to place some well-needed space between the two of you.<<else>>"Fuck off," you grumble, looking past Zihr and scanning the skies for the helicopter. You need to place some well-needed space between the two of you.<</if>> "Or-" You watch as Zihr's eyes widen in shock, lunging toward you just as you find yourself unable to move, as if frozen in time. A slight tremble courses through your entire body as you stand there, attempting to figure out what this odd sensation is. Then, a flash of white, blinding light that dims but then comes back, each time more blinding than the last. There was Zihr. And Ne0<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>. You think you hear $hound, but you can't be entirely sure. Not really. <a data-passage="8.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You were on a bounty, and you had just managed to capture them. Little by little, things fall into place, but it still feels like a veil of fog shrouds everything else. What … what is … A trarkran appears, his smile wide with excitement as he flits between a variety of machines. His mouth moves, but the words aren't translating. You feel your muscles stiffen, your body locking up as a multitude of needles pierce your skin and … "No!" you shout, fighting against imaginary restraints. Your breath leaves you as it feels like something heavy comes and settles itself on your chest; it presses down, whispering about how much it wants you to stop breathing. "Hey!" The voice that rips through the veil is a calming one. It strikes your brain, telling you that your one fear is not what you think it is. You're not back in Miarilia. You're in a medical bed, but it's not //his// medical bed. There are no needles, no syringes filled with questionable contents, no chiming machines, and no blood-spotted bedsheets, and the feeling of being ripped in two is absent. You're fine. And yet, you can't stop shivering. <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>\ "Hey," Checl repeats, her hands now resting against your cheeks as she peers at you. "You're okay. You're safe." You inhale shakily. Taking a moment to center yourself based off her touch. Rising slowly off the bed, you gaze around for a moment before the action brings forth a headache. "What happened? How did I get here?" "The bounty hit you with an electric round. They said your heart stopped for three ticks before you came back to the land of the living." You snort, wondering how the death spirit felt to lose once again. You realize that Checl has yet to let you go and your eyes go from her hands to her. She's peering at you, a trepidatious look in her eyes that warns you of what is coming next. "Checl," you whisper, "I'm fine." "But you weren't," she hisses, soft enough to reassure you that her anger and fear is not targeted at you. "For three ticks, you were gone. I screamed your name and you didn't answer. It was the longest three ticks in history." Her mandibles quiver and you can see her eyes growing glassy. "Don't ever do that to me again, $name. I know you don't care about me that way or want me to care about you but I can't. I can't imagine this world without you and I don't want too." [[“Checl … I do feel the same.”|8.21FeelTheSame]] [[“I'm fine, Checl. I'm here.”|8.21ImHere]] [[Wipe away her tears.|8.21WipeTears]] [[“All this for little ol' me?”|8.21LittleOlMe]] [[Let her go through it.|8.21GoThroughIt]] <<elseif $zihrRoPo >=3>>\ "Hey!" Zihr repeats, his hands a few inches away from your shoulders. They waver, partially wishing to move forward to touch and settle you down, but they maintain their distance. "It's okay," he reports, "you're just in the Nightwalkers' med-bay." You fight a shiver. "How did I get here? What happened?" He frowns, shying away. "It was my fault. It wasn't the place or the time, and I kept going anyway. I should've …" "Stop," you grumble, rolling your eyes as you shift uncomfortably. "It's not like I died." "You did." "What?" "You were dead for three ticks." Taking an unsteady breath, he continues. "The bounty somehow managed to get free of the cuffs, I … I guess I may not have activated them before giving them to you, or we didn't check to see how tight they were. Regardless, they shot you with a high-voltage electric round. You went down, and your heart stopped beating for three ticks before it started up again. You died, $name." You snort, wondering how the death spirit felt to lose once again. Did they know or did they believe themselves closer than they ever were before? <a data-passage="8.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $sinRoPo >=3>>\ "$name?" Sin questions, their eyes narrowed in concern as their lower left arm rests on your shoulder, and the upper one hovers just beside your cheek. "You're awake," they whisper, nodding as they move back. "Everything is okay. You're in the Nightwalkers' med-bay." "How," you start, shifting in the bed. "How did I get here? What happened?" "You were shot with a high voltage electric round that caused your heart to stop beating for precisely three minutes and six seconds." You hear the words, but for some reason, they hardly make sense. "I … died?" "Indeed." You let out a low snort, wondering just how pissed off the death spirit was when they learned they lost again. <a data-passage="8.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "$name?" Sin questions, their eyes narrowed in concern as their lower left arm rests on your shoulder, the upper one hovering just in case it needs to restrain you further. "You're awake," they whisper, nodding as they start to move back. "Everything is okay. You're in the Nightwalkers' med-bay." "How," you start, shifting in the bed. "How did I get here? What happened?" "You were shot with a high voltage electric round that caused your heart to stop beating for precisely three minutes and six seconds." You hear the words, but for some reason, they hardly make sense. "I … died?" "Indeed." You let out a low snort, wondering just how pissed off the death spirit was when they learned they lost again. "You don't seem surprised." You wave their words away. "I've met death's spirits one too many times to properly fear them … it … whatever you want to perceive them as." Your own sentence starts to fade away as you think about how odd your words and reaction probably come off. But it was true. It's one thing you at least liked about the Dinami. Every member has met a death spirit at least once; some of you far more than you ever care to share. Throughout the entire organization, the idea that death was to be respected but not feared was a universal understanding. Maybe that was what the Dinami wished, maybe it was just a byproduct of countless months and years of torture. Didn't really matter. <a data-passage="8.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Checl … I do feel the same," you find yourself saying, not exactly sure if it is the wisest thing to say. You expect her to look at you with some kind of hope or even curiosity, but there's nothing but a guarded barrier residing between you. Too many times have you pulled her along only to cut the rope and watch her fall back to the ground, repeating the process all over again. <<include "8.22">>
"I'm fine, Checl. I'm here." "But you weren't," she continues to sob, attempting to calm herself but inevitably working herself up even more. "I just don't know what to do, $name." You want to tell her to calm down or to just relax. But all of that just feels like it'll either push her farther or end with the two of you arguing for something pointless. <<include "8.22">>
"Hey," you whisper lightly as you place your thumb on her cheek, wiping away the tears. "Come on, calm down." You stare at where your hand remains on her face, your brain telling you to remove it while everything else wants to keep it there. How much longer will you have to endure running from your feelings for her? How much longer will you be forced to watch her break down over a lie, all because you can't give her what she wants? All because you're terrified of what she'll think when she learns the truth of what you are … who you are. <<include "8.22">>
"All this for little ol' me?" you smirk, attempting to get her to smile or at least chortle. Instead, she glances up at you, her mandibles quivering and forcing you to look away, feeling some kind of odd regret for trying to make light of the situation. It's odd for someone to care more about your life than you. Maybe it's because of just how many times you danced with death, the two of you probably better friends than you would ever care to admit. <<include "8.22">>
You remain silent, allowing her to rein in her emotions on her own. You're not exactly sure if there's anything you can say to make her feel better. She has already quoted your most-used phrase, and repeating it would probably only push her further. In truth, you're just as lost as she is; you just manage to hide it better. How much longer will you have to endure running from your feelings for her? How much longer will you be forced to watch her break down over a lie, all because you can't give her what she wants? All because you're terrified of what she'll think when she learns the truth of what you are … who you are. <<include "8.22">>
<<if $checlRoPo >=3>>\ "What do you want from me?" she whispers. "Tell me and that'll be the end of it. But I can't keep chasing after something I know I can never catch, $name." //Note: None of these options will end or lock-in a relationship. Feel free to choose any of them.// [[Let her go.|8.22CheclPreBreakUp][$prebreakup_checl to 1; $checlRoPo -=1]] [[Reassure her.|8.22ReassureChecl][$checlRoPo +=1]] [[Kiss her.|8.22CheclKiss][$checlRoPo +=1]] <<elseif $zihrRoPo >=3>>\ Zihr's brow furrows as he glares at you. "I tell you that you died, and all you can do is snort?" "You'll be surprised how many times I've skirted the edge of death. It's becoming quite common." He looks less guilty and more exacerbated now, an expression you know too well to not know what will follow. <<if $zihrRo <50>>\ "Do you know how utterly infuriating you can be?" "No, but some part of me tells me that you're about to make it known." "No," he sighs, all of his gusto suddenly depleting as his shoulders slouch. You notice a look of utter defeat and a sense of loss in his eyes as he stares back at you. He repeats. "No. I can't … I … You died out there, and if I-" "And if you hadn't been yelling at me, then my attention would've been on the bounty. Maybe I would've remembered to pat them down for weapons or to make sure the cuffs were secure." He pauses, glaring at you. "Great. Are we past that now? I'm the one in the bed, and I'm not blaming you, so stop trying to find a reason to make it your fault." "That's not … I'm not …" "Zihr. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried about me." "You died," he growls. [[“I would've thought you'd be celebrating.”|8.22Celebrating]] [[“Well why didn't you say that earlier?”|8.22Earlier]] [[“So, you were worried?”|8.22WereWorried]] [[“We've gone over that.”|8.22GoneOverThat]] <<else>>\ "I mourned you," Zihr begins, his voice unsteady. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was about to cry. Have you ever seen Zihr cry? <<if $mentor is "dead">>Yes. His mentor's death. It was rare enough for you to have forgotten so quickly, and yet impactful enough for you to remember exactly how he had broken down. This at least wasn't that.<<else>>No, not from what you can remember. He's been angry, pissed off, but not even then has it caused him to tear up from the overwhelming emotions.<</if>> "I thought you died," he chuckles and shakes his head. "You did, right in my arms. I held you, and I couldn't feel your heart beating, and I was hoping that terran anatomy made that normal until the medics started to freak out, and I started to-" You rest your hand over his, hoping the action will bring him out of the memory and back into the now. It does, or at least partially does, as he stares at you. A dozen different thoughts reflect back at you, and you remove your hand, unable to deduce what he is thinking or where his mind is at. "I'm fine, Zihr." "You are," he nods, "but I don't think you understand the fact that you weren't for a moment. You act like this is normal, and fine, whatever. It may be for you. But for the rest of us, death is death. You get one chance, and when it comes, that's it. I don't have enough people in my life to not care about death. And all I could think about was what I kept to myself, what I failed to …" He lets out an unsteady breath, slightly shivering as he seems to then stiffen. "$name, I need to know. And I need to know now because I feel like I'm wasting my time or getting my hopes up when my hopes weren't supposed to be anywhere in the first place. But acting like there's nothing, especially these past few weeks. It's getting harder and harder, and I don't like feeling like this. I-" "Zihr," you interrupt, and he immediately shuts up. "What are you talking about? What do you need to know?" "Do you have feelings for me? Is there … I mean could you … or was there ever any …" //Note: None of these options will end or lock-in a relationship. Feel free to choose any of them.// [[“Maybe this should wait.”|8.22Wait][$zihrRoPo +=1]] [[“I … uh ... no. I don't …”|8.22ZihrPreBreakup][$prebreakup_zihr to 1; $zihrRoPo -=1]] [[Kiss him.|8.22KissHim][$zihrRoPo +=1]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "How are you feeling?" "Like someone forgot to press the restart on my body. I just feel … stiff. Stiff and tired." They nod, gently taking your face within their hand as they look you over carefully. "Doctors say that there's no internal damage. But that any tingling and soreness is normal for now, tell them if you get worried about anything." You find your heart has picked up, gazing from Sin's hand, still resting on your face, to the tender look they currently wear. "Would I be right to suspect that not everyone gets personal visits from the Commander themself?" "You have caused me to develop a nasty habit of having favorites," they smirk. [[“That's dangerous.”|8.22Dangerous]] [[“It's a curse.”|8.22Curse]] <</if>>\
"Then it's like you said, stop chasing." You don't look her in the eye when you say it; you don't need to see the dejected expression she wears. You can hear the barely audible gasp she lets out, and out of the corner of your eye, see her move her chair back to rise. "If you need anything, just contact us. The doctors said you won't be in here long." And with that, she goes, running into an approaching Commander Sin as she does. The two of you will probably never talk about this again. If you're lucky, Checl will act like she never even had feelings for you. But you know for a fact, no matter what anyone says, you're not lucky. <<include "8.23">>
"It's … I told you before, it's not you. It's on me. I can't give you what you deserve." "And what do I deserve, $name?" "Someone who's going to be there for you, who can support you and your dreams and not be bogged down with their own selfish concerns. Someone with whom you can have a future." "And none of that can be had with you?" she asks, her gaze already telling you that she believes it's possible. She makes it so easy to want to be honest. All you have to do is spill decades of trauma and let her into the parts of you that you haven't shared with anyone. Parts of you that you hide from even yourself. But you won't. Not because she doesn't deserve it, but the idea of it just scares you to death. There's a truth resting in that past that you're not ready to face. A version of yourself you have run from, and so far, have done a remarkable job of staying leagues ahead of. One day, you may be strong enough not to care about her reaction or brave enough to face whatever questions may follow. But today … the you right now, is not ready for the look, the preconceived judgment, or the truth that you too have to face when it finally comes out. "I need to figure out things for myself, Checl." "You told me that. And that's fine with me. But I need to know that I have a part somewhere. Even if my heart breaks in the end, that's for future me to deal with. Right now, I'm just trying to understand what I am to you." Grabbing hold of her hand, you squeeze. "You're someone very important to me. And maybe later, I'll get over myself and realize you're even more." "$name," you hear someone say, as the curtain moves to reveal Commander Sin. They nod at Checl, unsurprised to see her. "Call me if you need me," she tells you, rising and placing a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you exhale slowly. It's a good thing you're in this bed, otherwise you'd find the nearest wall and continuously beat your head against it. <<include "8.23">>
You don't think, not truly. You push all the doubts away, allowing for your actions to speak for themselves. Your better judgment surely scolds you, but … maybe it's because you're tired or slightly delirious, but you're tired of acting on better judgment. Tomorrow, you'll probably come to your senses. Or maybe not. Right now, you go for it. She stiffens as you grab her wrist and yank her toward you, using your other hand to guide her face to yours. Her mandibles are softer than you expected them to be, the feeling not one of fur but a light, feathery feeling. They just barely rub against the corners of your mouth as she allows the kiss to deepen, leaning in. You wish this kiss could chase away all of your fears, reassure Checl that you feel the same, and wrap up everything in a nice, clean bow. But the truth is, you probably just made it all worse. An impulsive act that will cause nothing but more heartache and pain for both of you. But it's too late to back out now, and truthfully, you don't want to. How many nights did you spend wanting to be close to her? Did you dream of the chance to touch her? And now that she's here, now that you have finally gotten up the nerve to actually act, you can only ridicule yourself on how much you should have never done it. She's the first to pull back, but barely. You can feel her breath ghosting across your cheek and lips, and suddenly, once again, all of your worries vanish, and you just want her in your arms. "What does this mean?" "It means-" you start just as the curtains part, Commander Sin announcing themselves as their eyes rise from the screen in their hands to you and Checl. She shrieks, backing up and almost stumbling as she tries to avoid their gaze. If Sin is surprised or bothered by what they just walked in on, they show no sign of it. Standing before you is the same ol' calm and collected Sin that you have grown accustomed to. "My apologies, can I have a moment with $name?" "Of ... of course," Checl says, not even sparing you a second glance as she rushes past Sin. They offer you an apologetic look, but you wave it away. You'll have to speak to her later, hopefully, but then you'll have figured out where your mind is on the conversation between the two of you. <a data-passage="8.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yea, you'd think you'd celebrate such an occasion." "What makes you think I hate you that much?" "Oh, but you do hate me," you laugh. "I don't," he states, peering at you in horror before calming his expression and shifting his attention to a nearby vacant bed. "Maybe I did a bit in the past, but it's hard to remember. Mostly I … I was worried because I …" He gulps and then shoots up, his look of worry eclipsed now by one of rage. "I was worried because I just told you that you died. No //normal// person responds to that so casually. I sat there already beginning to mourn you. Only for you to pop up and say, 'Well, it's just another day for me.'" <<include "8.22ZihrReservedPath">>
"Wait!" you gasp, "I died? Why didn't you say that to begin with?" The look he gives you almost makes you want to cough up a lung with how hard you laugh. Of course, Zihr finds none of it funny, but it was never said to get a laugh out of him. "You have to loosen up, Zihr," you sigh, calming down. "Fuck you, $name." <<include "8.22ZihrReservedPath">>
"Okay, so that means you were worried, right?" "I was worried because I …" He gulps and then shoots up, his look of worry eclipsed now by one of rage. "I was worried because I just told you that you died. No //normal// person responds to that so casually. I sat there already beginning to mourn you. Only for you to pop up and say, 'Well, it's just another day for me.'" <<include "8.22ZihrReservedPath">>
"Yes, you've already told me as much." "I said dead. Not partially or injured. Dead. Your heart stopped beating." "I know what death entails." "No one- No, I'm sorry. No //normal// person responds to that so casually. I sat there already beginning to mourn you. Only for you to pop up and say, 'Well, it's just another day for me.'" "Do you want me to cry about it?" "I want you to give a fuck about your own life and the people who you're leaving behind." <<include "8.22ZihrReservedPath">>
"I want the two of you to stop screaming," a third voice interjects. The curtains are swept to the side as Commander Sin gives you both a look. "Whatever argument you wish to have can be done elsewhere." "What's the point?" Zihr grumbles, moving past Sin and leaving. You watch him go, your head hurting more than it did when you woke up. <a data-passage="8.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Zihr," you start, glancing around at your surroundings. "Maybe this conversation can wait. I'm not really …" "Yea," he interjects before you can finish, looking sheepish as he straightens. "Just a lot of emotions came over me all at once. I let it get the better of me." "It's not-" "$name," you hear someone say, as the curtain moves to reveal Commander Sin. They nod at Zihr, unsurprised to see him. "I'm going," he tells no one in particular as he rises from his seat and goes. Sin watches him go, their brow ridge rising, but they say nothing as they simply glance at you. <a data-passage="8.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I … uh … no. I mean … I don't." Your mouth has suddenly gone dry as you fail to figure out what to say. This is all too much. Death is an easier foe to face. "That's all you had to say," he mumbles, getting to his feet and leaving without another word. He almost runs into an approaching Commander Sin, just narrowly shifting at the last moment to avoid a collision. The two of you will probably never talk about this again. But you already know it will be a while before either of you will be able to talk, to truly set this aside. <<include "8.23">>
Rolling your eyes, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him down, guiding his lips to yours the best you can at the angle. It's odd, and you're more so kissing his chin, but you hope the action gets your intentions across. It continues for a few seconds, just long enough for him to understand what is happening before he pulls away. He stares at you with an emotion you're unable to name. A voice in the back of your mind chuckles at your forwardness, another screams at how stupid you are, and- Before you can continue adding voices, Zihr's trembling hand is upon your cheek, navigating to the back of your neck as he leans in and kisses you. This time, the angle makes the action feel natural, and this time, neither of you moves away. It lasts only a few seconds, but the way your heart races in your chest, the way you want to wrap your arms around him, and just how soft his lips feel against yours make it feel like minutes. You both pull away nearly at the same time, but Zihr doesn't move too far, as if the proximity is the only thing helping him comprehend what has just taken place. He closes his eyes, and a light smile appears. "We just kissed." "We did," you whisper, still trying to grapple all of your feelings into one place. No matter how much you would like to push it aside, there is a darkness swarming within that cackles at your stupidity. It feels as if the kiss itself has awakened this monster from a slumber you believed eternal. "Our first kiss is with you in a hospital bed …" "Caused by your impatience, yes." "My impatience," he scoffs, "you kissed me." "Are you about to pick a fight with me now? When I'm crippled and in bed?" He opens his mouth, then closes it, laughing as he steps back. "That is what we do best, huh?" He pauses before opening his mouth to ask, "What does-" The entire sentence fails to be said as the curtains are swept to the side, Commander Sin on the other side. They lazily gaze up from the tablet in their grasp, nodding at Zihr before placing their attention on you. "My apologies, can I have a moment with $name?" "Of course," Zihr states sheepishly. He offers you a quick glance before scurrying away as if he had just gotten caught. If he did, Sin makes no mention or show of it. <a data-passage="8.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, that's dangerous." "Almost everything in life is. Are you choosing now to lecture me on that?" "No," you hiss, not knowing how to talk about this particular subject, the subject of you and them. If there even is such a thing. Why do you find it so hard to just say no? Everything within you has a habit of reminding you of why it's a bad idea, and even if that wasn't the case, you'd have plenty of reasons why delving into anything romantic with your Commander is a disaster in the making. And yet, at the very most, you have given Sin nothing more than a weakly issued warning and the knowledge that the topic scares you. <<include "8.22SinConvo">>
You snort with a wide smile, "Yea, it's a curse." "Ah, you have been down this road before, then?" You freeze, shaking your head, but the amusement that you once had has fled, and taking its place is something that you wouldn't call awkwardness, but it isn't entirely relaxed air either. Why do you find it so hard to just say no? Everything within you has a habit of reminding you of why it's a bad idea, and even if that wasn't the case, you'd have plenty of reasons why delving into anything romantic with your Commander is a disaster in the making. And yet, at the very most, you have given Sin nothing more than a weakly issued warning and the knowledge that the topic scares you. <<include "8.22SinConvo">>
"Speak honestly," Sin says, a bit of tiredness in their voice, "what are you afraid of?" "I don't know," you interject, huffing like a petulant child. At the very least, Sin doesn't point this out and simply stares at you before sighing. "Then tell me when you do figure it out. But do try and do that sooner rather than later, I will not wait forever." You almost roll your eyes. If you thought it would work against them, you'd bring up the fact that you're lying in a hospital bed after having died, the last thing on your mind is thinking about a relationship. Letting out another sigh, Sin shifts, retrieving a tablet from the nearby end table. <<include "8.24">>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $solars +=250>> <</nobr>>\ <<if hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss") or hasVisited("8.22ReassureChecl")>>\ "I apologize for interrupting the moment between you two." <<elseif hasVisited("8.22ZihrReservedPath")>>\ "Should I apologize for interrupting that or should I be awaiting a thank you?" <<else>>\ <</if>>\ "What can I do for you, Commander? Hopefully this isn't you telling me that Gon died along the way and I'm being shipped out." "No," they laugh, "you're not quite that lucky. And don't expect the Supreme Commander to come by and shake your hand. She has made it clear that this is your job and anything less than what was requested would be a failure on your part, and a means to act on hers." <<if $humor >=50>>"You're telling me I finally choose not to kill someone and I don't even get a lousy t-shirt?" You huff in disbelief. "Wasted effort." Sin chuckles but slips back into their formal self not soon after.<<else>>"I wasn't expecting her too. Honestly, I'd be glad to never have to see her again." Sin shrugs, of course you don't expect them to go further on that subject.<</if>> "You're safe, still a full-fledged bounty hunter," they confirm, and though that is probably not all they came by to say, you choose to relax in that knowledge. No more trying to figure out an escape plan. No more having to over-prepare or doubt your every move. At least for now. For now, you'll just exist in the knowledge that you somehow managed to escape the jaws of fate and death, all at the same time. <<include "8.24">>
"Are you here to tell me how long it'll be until I can get out of this bed?" Sin makes a knock-like sound with their mouth, the corners rising, and you suddenly feel like you're being purposely left out of a joke. "Yes, but also to give you your briefing." "My what?" "Your briefing," they chuckle, "for tomorrow's bounty hunt." "Say you're joking." "I am not," they laugh<<if hasVisited("8.22SinConvo")>>.<<else>>, taking a seat.<</if>> "In fact, the lack of a joke is the very reason I came instead of Vittorio. I wished to deliver this news personally, along with the Supreme Commander's words. And, I quote, "your success has proved that you and your team should be given more hunts. $name is to report to duty, alongside the rest of ?his team, tomorrow." "And you wonder why I don't like her?" "I have never wondered such a thing." They nod at a screen that you just realized rests behind you, telling you of your vitals. "There is also another matter to discuss. When the doctors took a blood sample, they found some interesting findings. "Care to explain?" Sin inquires as they hand you the tablet. You skip past all the technical jargon that you don't care about, pausing when you see the words: traces of terran<<if $markings is "gold">> and trarkran DNA found.<<else>>, trarkran, and <<if $markings is "red">>raza<<elseif $markings is "purple">>vetix<<elseif $markings is "green">>zeach<<elseif $markings is "blue">>shaph<<else>>nurien<</if>> DNA found.<</if>> Those words stare back at you, and no matter how many times you reread that sentence, your mind fails to comprehend it to the extent it should. Maybe you would if you had known that yourself. <a data-passage="8.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You didn't know," Sin mutters, reading your expression as easily as if you had actually said as much. Something stirs in your chest, and before you know it, you're pushing the tablet away as you twist to the side, vomiting. "$name?" Sin questions, their hand on your back, but you push them away, trying to stop the trembling that has taken over your entire body. The air feels both hot and cold, the duality battling for dominance, neither side winning, only taking a toll on you. No matter how many times you try to breathe, it feels like each one is a struggle, as if someone decided to place a cement block on your chest before patiently waiting to see how fast you can move it off you. Gasping for air turns into another, and then another, until the act of stopping is what you focus on, but it refuses. Every sharp inhale fails to produce an exhale, only deepening the pain in your chest and throat. You can't stop. You can't stop! You tell yourself to focus, close your eyes, and do every trick you've ever been told about. Counting, disassociating, speaking aloud, pinching yourself, humming a tune, or feeling the coarse fabric that makes up the sheets of the hospital bed. None of it works. The only thing you can do is sit there, hopelessly fighting a panic attack off as the same question echoes through your mind. What are you? <a data-passage="Chapter Nine"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_9.png" alt="Chapter Nine" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<unset $qa, $round>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <<set $unlock_ne0 to true; $unlock_sin to true; $inv_5canisters to false>> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2026_4.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. I miss my home. Some of the kids here seemed to have forgotten where they came from. That we were all stolen. They smile and think that maybe, if they act right, they can belong. I know the truth. We’re all dead. By Unknown Terran. Found amidst scattered belongings."> <span class ="flashback">Time has always been such an odd thing for you to grasp and has always seemed like an eternal hypocrite. Growing up, numerous people have told you that you won't have enough time to do what you love, so do it now. While others would say that you have all the time in the world, there is no such thing as wasting it. To say you have believed neither or both would be a conversation you wish not to indulge in. As of now, you're just confused. Time will heal all wounds. Perhaps that phrase is where it all started. Where your doubts and questions about the specific topic began. Because time didn't heal the family of your father's absence. Instead, it infected it, pressed down on it as hard as it could until pain shifted to numbness. Every time the scar tried to heal, time would come and scrape it raw until there was no longer any point. You squint, trying to remember what caused you to start thinking of such an abstract topic when the incessant barking of your overseer reminds you. Yes, that's it. You had been trying to figure out how much time had passed, and thus, you began to think about why it didn't matter. And that sent you down a rabbit hole. You could understand the trarkran in front of you but have yet to get used to watching someone's mouth move and their words not match the said movement. It felt … alien. A word that feels outdated now that you are amongst the stars. And so your mind, in an attempt not to focus on that specific thing, thus reached out to others.</span> <a data-passage="5FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">In your time among these people, you have learned two minor things about them. One, is that they love to speak. Whether it's because they love to hear themselves or whether it's just part of their culture doesn't seem to matter much. An individual will go on and on. You have found that interrupting the speaker is highly frowned upon unless the one interrupting is superior to the speaker. Then, no one cares. The second thing is that they believe you all to be stupid. At first, you assumed they spoke to you all in such a way because they were worried about not being understood. But then Overseer Naitene spoke to all of you naturally, and you realized that the Baroness and her daughters simply despise your kind. Their speech reminds you of how terrans talk to their pets; they only lack tenderness and affection. And somehow, in the span of two weeks, you have outed yourself as a problem.</span> [[Your fear causes you to react inappropriately.|5FBGut][$gut +=1]] [[You have always had a stubborn streak.|5FBMind][$mind +=1]] [[You hated them and would show it. :: Trigger Warning :: Xenophobic Views and Trait Assigned|5FBHeart][$moran_xeno to true; $heart +=1]]
<span class ="flashback">The first few times, there was no reason for your behavior. Only after the third or fourth time did you realize you behaved like this because of your fear. When put under scrutiny, you wish to run away, and so you did. When grabbed, you fight to free yourself. When yelled at, you scream right back. Instinct saturates your body and guides you from one action to the other; only it has led you to trouble.</span> <<include "5FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">Growing up, you hardly listened to what your parents or teachers said. Or more like you heard them, but you did it your way. It was a trait that no one truly enjoyed besides you, anyway. That trait didn't suddenly disappear during hyper-sleep or your time locked behind a kinetic barrier.</span> <<include "5FB.1">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You hold xenophobic views in regards to the trarkran race.<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">You hated your overlords, and everything about them only caused that fire to burn brighter. Their language, appearance, planet, everything was met with disdain. They took everything from you; the least you can do to repay them is make their lives hell whenever you have the chance. And though that works out great in your head and fuels your spirit, it hardly does anything concerning reality. Your punishments only made them laugh. You resemble a naughty pup to them, stubborn and believing it will get its way, while in reality, it is still being trained.</span> <<include "5FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">Every other day, you are disciplined, mostly by Overseer Naitene, though lately, you have gained the ire of one of the daughters. Lady Lujikial did not suffer disobedience lightly. Nor did she accept anything less than perfection. If you had been given a yard or delivery job, you would be far and safe from her wrath, but your role put you directly underneath her nose. And lately, it is your fault whenever she finds something out of place. It seems that she has gotten in her mind that you are there to personally undo her. Or at least, that's what others speak. You believe Lady Lujikial wishes to take her anger out on someone, and you became the easiest and most fulfilling target.</span> [[And you tried to do better. You really did.|5FBTryToDoBetter][$pastApproach +=10]] [[You found yourself not really caring.|5FBNotReallyCaring][$pastApproach -=10; $dante_rebel to false]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Rebellious<</notify>><</if>> <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">This isn't on purpose. You always tried your hardest to be an upstanding child, and back on Genesis, you were. Teachers wrote notes home to your mother, singing their praise on your behavior. To the entire faculty, you were a fount for your obedience. Typically, this fell back on Dante. Causing many to question why he couldn't be more like you. Thankfully, it never seemed to bother him or affect your relationship. At most, he would openly joke about it while impersonating you. Many seemed confused by your differing personalities, blaming your father's absence. 'Some children cope differently than others' or 'he's not taking his father's absence well, is he?' were some phrases you can recall. Dante never seemed afflicted, pissed off perhaps, but not like how you were. Your father's absence was so profound that it rocks you even now to think about it.</span> <<include "5FB.2">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Compliant<</notify>><</if>> <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You never really held tightly to the notion of being the virtuous or exceptional kid. No, typically, you were the one who caused your mother to take regular visits to the principal's office as they tried to get down to the root of your disruptive behavior. 'Where is your husband?' or 'the child's father is no longer in the picture' typically springs up, and while part of you always wished to argue, you knew that it was a factor. Your father's absence was so profound that it rocks you even now to think about it.</span> <<include "5FB.2">>
<span class ="flashback">Your mind drifts to the man who left you all those years back. Would anything be different if he was still with you? Perhaps your mother would be alive? Isaiah, as well, since he would never have been part of the military, never would have gone with the officer. Then Dimitri may still be here, as your mother would have never left him alone. So many possibilities seem just out of reach, all thanks to //his// absence. "Are you listening?" Overseer Naitene asks, pulling on your ear. Such action is hard enough to regain your attention but soft to where it doesn't cause you to yell out in pain. Another cultural difference on a long list you had not been prepared for. From what you have learned—or more so experienced—this is a common way to gain other's attention, only they typically pulled a <<link 'tesi'>><<dialog 'Codex - Language'>>the head tails that all trarkan have. Though other languages refer to them as different things, the word tesi can be used to refer to any head tails/crests a species may have.<</dialog>><</link>>. The ear is mainly for children, something that causes you to grumble about internally. "Yes. Stop drawing the Lady's gaze." "I am beginning to think it is hard for you not to do." You want to speak out about how you have never honestly tried. In fact, you still don't understand why her focus found itself on you. Surely, she has better things to do. But you don't. Instead, you simply sit quietly and wait for Naitene to grow bored and send you away. Louring at you for a few more seconds, he finally shakes his head and motions for you to rise. "Clean yourself up. The nightly chores are now yours to accomplish." You suppose there are worse punishments, though taking on the bulk of the nightly chores is pretty far up there. With his permission, you go, heading to the servants' quarter.</span> <a data-passage="5FB.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You head to your cot, wishing to lie down briefly before heading to the bath area. The idea makes you sigh. Seeing that trarkrans liked most, if not all, of their things hot, washing is no exception. Due to your time on this planet, your skin has adapted as best it could, but even that isn't enough to immunize you from a handful of minutes under scolding hot water. Baths are far safer and more comfortable. Mostly, you never thought you'd miss cold water. "Hey." Turning, you see Dante leaning against the entrance wall, gazing at you with an unimpressed look in his eye. He gives you a quick once over before shaking his head. "Te ves como mierda." "Va t’a la chingada," you snap right back, the two of you glaring at one another before you break out into low chuckles. He approaches and squats down, offering a damp, warm rag you happily accept. You let out a soft hiss as you place it on the cut decorating your forehead. Exhaustion soon causes you to drop your hand, and you release a depleted sigh. "Give it to me," he states, going for the rag, but you move away just in time, and signal that you can handle it. "Stop being a brat and just give me the damn thing." He snatches it from you with vigor but tends to the wound gently. "Pourquoi?" The single question is followed by silence, but you can see Dante's face constrict in annoyance. "Just tell me why you always do the same shit." You remain quiet, not sure of the answer yourself. He calms himself before admitting, "I'm worried that either one day I won't be able to help heal whatever happened or that you won't be around for me to heal it." He grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. "You're not here for yourself. There's me and Camila. And we both need you. Alright? We need you. So stop acting like an idiot."</span> <a data-passage="5.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_5.png"> You feel a presence getting closer and closer until your instincts shout for you to open your eyes, to meet whoever it is head on. Before your mind catches up with your whereabouts, you're up and a hand is trapped in your grasp while your other reaches for a gun not there. <<if $cp>>"I'm so sorry," Checl whines, squirming in your grip<<else>>"My apologies," Ne0 speaks, rotating its hand in your grip<</if>>. <<if $cp>>\ You release her, taking a few deep breaths as you center yourself and avoid her gaze. //Foolish//, your brain chides you. //How many times must you learn the same lesson before you finally retain what it has to offer?// A good question. <<if $humor >=50>>\ "You're not going to throw me off the shuttle, right?" you joke, your smile disappearing when Checl looks at you in both shock and horror. "Why would I do something like that?" "It was a … nevermind. Are we here?" <<else>>\ Your chest doesn't stop thumping and no amount of reminding yourself that this is Checl, not Tsering, helps. "$name, are you okay?" She <<if $checl_touch is false>>reaches towards your face but then pauses, remembering the many times that you have warned her against the action.<<else>>cradles your face in her taloned hands.<</if>> "You look … haunted?" It is clear by how she both pauses and glances off to the side in doubt that she doesn't know if she used the right word. It matters little. "I'm fine," you reassure her, clearing your throat, "are we there?" <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You release it, taking a few deep breaths as you center yourself and avoid its gaze. "Elevated heart. Perspiration. Tense be-" "Alright," you growl, "I get it. Didn't I say no scanning?" "Apologies. Suspected companion only meant initial." You hum, "are we there?" <</if>>\ <<if $cp>>"Yea, we just started to touch down."<<else>>"Affirmative."<</if>> Glancing out the window, you see what awaits you. The facility, like the nearby architecture, is a large cylinder like shape. The sheer scale of it is impressive but that's about it. You've seen buildings like this far too many times for it to capture your breath any more. Moving outwards from the building itself rests grounds that you hypothesize is for combat and agility training. A quick glance and you're able to see an oma ball field, a track, and an intense obstacle course. <a data-passage="5.00.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp and $souvenir is not "nothing">>\ "You know," Checl starts, "I'm not used to not seeing you with your $souvenir. "Ugh, don't remind me," you answer, doing your best to not touch where your $souvenir usually sits. You've felt naked without it and can only hope that they shipped your items to the Nightwalkers so that you can retrieve them. If not, Zihr is out of a blade, and you'll be without the one thing you had that reminds you of your home planet. You came across the Geniser store by complete luck, and even though it happened years ago, you can still remember the happiness and wonder of that moment. Not only to meet other Genisers that have made their place in the stars, away from trarkran eyes, but also the fact that they had so much from your home. You haven't found one like it since. <</if>>\ You disembark the bus with the others, schooling your features as you crane your neck to take in the facility. Crion's sun shines against it, causing the metal to glisten as if it had been recently polished. The smooth, light grey metal surface makes up the bulk of the building with only long rectangular windows interrupting it. The windows aren't made purely of glass like the ones you grew up around. These are the windows that prove to be bullet-proof, sun-proof, and double-sided disallowing for those outside to see in. In truth, it looks like any other futuristic building, bland and synonymous. "Who the hell decided everything in the future needed to be so metallic?" you sigh, gazing to your left to see Ne0 looking from you to his arms. [[“Yes, that includes you droids.”|5.00IncludesDroids]] [[“Architecture, Ne0. Architecture.”|5.00Architecture]] [[“You good?”|5.00YouGood]] [[Say nothing.|5.00SayNothing]]
"Yes, that includes you droids. Though, draqe have a more crystal look about them." Ne0 remains silent as it continues to look itself over, the others already moving forward, following someone you hadn't paid much attention to. <<include "5.00.2">>
"Architecture, Ne0," you sigh, "I meant the architecture." And yet, even with your explanation, Ne0 remains silent and continues to look itself over. The others have already started to move forward, following someone you hadn't paid much attention to. <<include "5.00.2">>
"Uh, you good Ne0?" The question seems to go unheard as Ne0 continues to look itself over. The others have already started to move forward, following someone you hadn't paid much attention to. <<include "5.00.2">>
You say nothing, your attention resting on the others as they move toward someone you hadn't paid much attention to. You can roughly guess their purpose and what is about to take place. <<include "5.00.2">>
"Desire change," Ne0 finally says. "What do you mean?" "Color. Markings." <<if $tattoo is "few" or $tattoo is "several">>It points to your tattoos before gazing back at its own arms as if picturing what it may look like.<<else>>It points to you and then at it's own forehead and arms.<</if>> [[“If there's time.”|5.00IfTime][$ne0 +=5; $tatNe0 to true]] [[“That sounds like a you problem.”|5.00LikeAProblem][$ne0 -=5]] [[“Sure.”|5.00Sure][$ne0 +=5; $tatNe0 to true]] [[“We need to catch up.”|5.00CatchUp][$ne0 -=5]]
"If there's time then we can check some places out. They may not know what to do with a draqe though, you're not the standard droid or even like a car." "Attempt appreciated." "Alright," you nod, and then point your chin towards the still moving group. "We should catch up. Ne0 nods, taking on an odd gait that causes you to smile when you realize it may be due to how it show happiness. <<include "5.01">>
"Ne0, that sounds like a you problem and I don't make it a habit getting myself tangled up in problems that don't have a me involved. Get what I'm saying?" "Understood," Ne0 nods. It moves forward with what you wish to label as dejection. But you swat the thought away, following after it and joining the others. <<include "5.01">>
"Oh, well I'm sure we can check it out when we get time." You nod at the idea and shrug. "Yea, let's see if anyone can tat you up. Maybe even give you a fresh paint job." Ne0 shifts, its blue coloring brightening as it nods, "emotion. Excitement." "Congrats on getting another achievement. Come on, we should catch up with the others." <<include "5.01">>
You stare at Ne0 for a bit longer before mentally shaking your head. You aren't about to make promises you don't care to keep. Instead, you nod to the moving group, "come on, we need to catch up." Ne0 simply nods, continuing forward with what you wish to label as dejection. But you swat the thought away, following after it and joining the others. <<include "5.01">>
The tour guide is well … a tour guide. Along with explaining the uses of the facility and what it has, they also explain the history and creation of it all. [[Information you can't possibly care less about. Your mind wanders …|5.01NoInfo]] [[Information you soak in readily, you love this stuff.|5.01Info]] [[You're in and out. This type of stuff can come in handy, but rarely.|5.01InNOut]]
What's next? You escaped the Outlands, made it into Taouron, found all you could about the Baron and Tsering's whereabouts, and avoided jail. There's a five year contract you'll have to adhere to with the Nightwalkers before you're free to go about your life or decide to stay with them. Of course, you're not planning on staying here all five years but this part requires a delicate hand. Showing your cards too early will get you kicked out and sent right back to that courtroom you avoided. While showing them too late gives time for Tsering, the Dinami, and the Baron to hear that you still live and plan who knows what. That's if they don't already know. You caused quite a disturbance and news feed will have picked up the story and aired it by now. The Dinami will then narrow down that it was you who had invaded the bunker and work from there. Once they speak to those jailed Dinami, it's over. They'll know you joined the Nightwalkers and will then only have to figure out if you're currently on assignment or what planet you're stationed on. The Baron, if he even acts, will be much slower. Truthfully, you don't know what he'll do. You spent so much time with the man but you never really learned much about him, not things like this anyway, you never believed you would have to. <<if $cp>><a data-passage="5.01.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><<else>><a data-passage="5.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><</if>>
"This is the atrium," the guide exclaims, leading you into the middle. Those who pass spare you little attention, going on with their day and at most, sighing at the inconvenience of a group taking up space. "You'll pass by this area the most. The three elevators behind you leads to both the top and underground floors. The top floors are mostly used for housing and entertainment spaces, the bottom floors house the training facilities and meeting rooms. Though this floor will be of some use to you all, it's mostly for guests. At most, you'll be interested in the cafeteria that lies down that corridor. Let's continue." They turn and continue on speaking. "The glass at the very top is called sand-fired glass. It follows a process similar to the creation of frosted glass with the main difference being that fire is used instead of acid etching for the appearance. It promotes privacy but when the sun hits it, causes an array of designs to filter through which is what you're seeing now." Their words ring true, the design looks like someone blurred that of a stained glass, giving it an abstract and peculiar look. "We're continuing on this way. Much more to see and learn." <<if $cp>><a data-passage="5.01.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><<else>><a data-passage="5.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><</if>>
What's next? You escaped the Outlands, made it into Taouron, found all you could about the Baron and Tsering's whereabouts, and avoided jail. There's a five year contract you'll have to adhere to with the Nightwalkers before you're free to go about your life or decide to stay with them. Of course, you're not planning on staying here all five years but this part requires a delicate hand. "This is the atrium," the guide exclaims, leading you into the middle. Those who pass spare you little attention, going on with their day and at most, sighing at the inconvenience of a group taking up space. "You'll pass by this area the most. The three elevators behind you leads to both the top and underground floors. The top floors are mostly used for housing and entertainment spaces, the bottom floors house the training facilities and meeting rooms. Though this floor will be of some use to you all, it's mostly for guests. At most, you'll be interested in the cafeteria that lies down that corridor. Let's continue." They turn and continue on while your mind wanders to the idea of how fast the Dinami will find you. You caused quite a disturbance and news feed will have picked up the story and aired it by now. The Dinami will then narrow down that it was you who had invaded the bunker and work from there. Once they speak to those jailed Dinami, it'll be over. They'll know you joined the Nightwalkers and will then only have to figure out if you're currently on assignment or what planet you're stationed on. <<if $cp>><a data-passage="5.01.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><<else>><a data-passage="5.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a><</if>>
<<if $cp>>\ <<if $checl_touch>>\ "Isn't this exciting!" Checl squeals, grabbing onto your arm and yanking on it like an overly hyper kid. "Talons, talons!" you remind, gritting your teeth until she finally lets you go with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but isn't it?!" <<else>>\ "Isn't this exciting!" Checl squeals, loud enough to cause others to throw glances at you but not disrupt the guide. <</if>>\ "You're causing a scene," Zihr grumbles. "Calm down." [[“You could learn to smile more, Zihr.”|5.01SmileMoreZihr]] [[“He's right.”|5.01HeRight]] [[“Let her enjoy herself.”|5.01EnjoyHerself]] [[“What's exciting about this?”|5.01WhatExciting]] <</if>>\
"You could learn something from her, Zihr." "Oh, what's that?" "How to smile." "Do you smile?" "Most of the time it's when you're not around or not looking." "Convenient," he grumbles. Checl pays neither of you much attention as she heads towards a wall the others have stopped at. <<include "5.02">>
"He's right, Checl." She glances from you to Zihr and nods her head, appearing like a scolded child. "Didn't know I was embarrassing the two of you," she grumbles. "Information, exciting," Ne0 states, causing the dejected zeach to perk up again. "Ah, finally someone who gets it. Come on Ne0, you're with me." She grabs the droid's hand and yanks it along. Ne0 seeming all to eager to follow. <<include "5.02">>
"Let her enjoy herself, Zihr. You wouldn't want someone kicking you just because you find something interesting." "I'm not kicking her. I'm just saying she should quiet down." "Embarrassed?" "No," he growls, but then quiets, a look crossing his face that causes you to wonder what the real problem is. You begin to ask when Checl shoots forward and towards a wall that the others have gathered around. <<include "5.02">>
"Exactly what is exciting about all this?" "Well, it's about the job too." "The job you're hardly prepared for?" She glances between you and Zihr. "You guys would be the perfect friends. I don't understand why you don't like each other, you're both assholes." She turns her back to you. "Information, exciting," Ne0 states, causing the dejected zeach to perk up again. "Ah, finally someone who gets it. Come on Ne0, you're with me." She grabs the droid's hand and yanks it along. Ne0 seeming all to eager to follow. You glance over at Zihr who shrugs. <<include "5.02">>
<<if $cp is false>>\ The next stop is at a wall of recognition. A row of pictures stretching from top to bottom, from one side of the wall to the next with the words 'Walkers Beyond' at the very top. "That's a lot of death," Zihr points out, "wonder how long half of them were employed." You search for the same information but find it omitted. All that is there is the hunter in question and there name right below their picture. "This is a bit archaic," you mention, "actual pictures. You'd think they have a holo-screen with it all." The guide seems to have heard you, clearing their throat to gain your attention. "That was a thought, believe it or not. But the founder wished to be unique and since many have shifted to using such technologies, he wished to do the opposite. He also felt that honoring them in such a way felt more … real." [[“The dead doesn't care.”|5.02DeadDontCare]] [[“Heart's in the right place.”|5.02HeartRightPlace]] [[Say nothing.|5.02SayNothing]] <<else>>\ The wall you stop at it is a wall of recognition. A row of pictures stretching from top to bottom, from one side of the wall to the next with the words 'Walkers Beyond' at the very top. <a data-passage="5.02.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Is this all who have died?" Checl questions, stopping at a picture of a zeach. "No, actually," the guide explains, "these are just those who died in Taouron." Checl slowly backs away from the wall in horror, appearing back at your side. Her eyes are still on the wall, even as the guide ushers the others onward so they can explain the next sight. "What if this is all a big mistake?" Checl murmurs. "I'm a zeach. I shouldn't be here." "I see a couple of zeaches on that wall that would beg to differ." She shakes her head and a tear runs down her cheek as her feathers droop. "Am I going to die here?" [[“You'll do fine.”|5.02DoFine][$checl +=10]] [[“There's a chance.”|5.02Chance][$checl -=10]] [[“Not exciting anymore, huh?”|5.02NotExciting][$checlLo -=1]]
"You'll do fine, Checl. Stop worrying." "I'm not like you, $name. How can I not worry. The only reason I'm here is because I ran away in a fight." "There are more ways to conquer a foe than brute force." "And when brute force is all I can do?" You shrug, "you run. Now come on, it's too late now and you're letting your self-doubt show." She doesn't seem exactly pleased with your words but she doesn't continue to question them either. <<include "5.03">>
"There's a chance," you start, feeling her horrified gaze turn to you. "I don't know what you want me to say here, Checl. You're not prepared for a life like this so it should scare you. But that's when you get better, make yourself harder to kill and up your skills. Complaining about it won't do anything." "You're right, its just …" She doesn't finish her thought, shaking her head and nodding at the group that begins to leave you. "Let's catch up." <<include "5.03">>
"Not as excited anymore about it, huh?" You feel her gaze turn to you, and when you finally glance over, you see that she's on the verge of tears. She stares at you as if you had just slapped her. "Fuck you, $name." She dashes away from your side, sticking close to Ne0 and Zihr, the latter turning to glare at you. Rolling your eyes, you move at your own pace as you follow behind. <<include "5.03">>
"The dead doesn't care how you honor them," you point out. "They're dead." The group seems to quiet, all eyes turning to you. So many different species, each their own thoughts and traditions about the afterlife yet it still seems sacrilegious to point out the most obvious thing. That the dead are gone or at the very least, separated from the living. All this stuff about honor is just to appease those who have to go on about their day, giving them a reason to feel like they did something good. You look at the guide, "we were on a tour, remember?" <<include "5.03">>
"His heart was in the right place at least." "Well, of course," the guide continues, "Ishtin E'Lov believed in this organization and those who walked the path were family to him. These pictures, you can touch, you can see the emotion clearly. That's something a screen can't capture." You do a good enough job of hiding your expressions, even though your insides are coughing up the word bullshit. A holo-screen, sure, you get what they mean. But they could have just as easily done a regular one or even a holo-projector that gave you their full-body in color. <<include "5.03">>
You don't care. You really don't. The only thing you care about is continuing this tour so that it can come to an end. <<include "5.03">>
The tour continues from there, taking you from one end to the other. You'll give it to your guide; they're thorough. If even one of you walks away from this tour stating your guide didn't discuss something, you probably won't hear the end of it. The facility is impressive, even when compared to the Dinami. Or perhaps that's your trauma speaking, refusing to remember the atrocities within those walls. You'll need to hone your skills to be better than you were before all of this, and this place will aid you greatly. <a data-passage="5.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The end of the tour finds you in one of the large meeting rooms. Previously, your guide stated that this room is for official settings like press conferences. You'll likely never see this room again. Due to Commander Sin's presence, a row of who you suppose are commanders stands behind a slightly raised stage that holds a podium in the middle. On every other wall stand others, all in the same uniform, but it's difficult to guess their rank or occupation. As you're all taking your seats, a lone figure draws the eyes of all as she enters and stands behind the podium. A trarkran, the leader from the looks of her uniform and ease in commanding the room. <<if $moran_xeno>>\ You feel something shifting inside you as a feeling of disgust rises. Why is it always them. Why must they always hold some position in power? Part of you pray that she is not like the others, but you have met enough to know that such a prayer is hopeless. They have never managed to surprise you, and today will not prove any different. Even if she is accepting and cares little, she probably still possesses the supremacy mindset that many of her kind do. They made it their business to be vile beings, and a long list of evidence proves your thoughts more than just opinions. Why other cultures and species put up with them is not beyond you, you understand, but that doesn't mean you have to agree or be content. <<else>>\ Keeping your face as neutral as possible, you try to consider your feelings for the woman before you. Does it matter what she is as long as she is fair and gets the job done? You swore you would never fall down the rabbit hole of xenophobia, especially concerning the trarkran people. So far, you have managed to succeed, but that is due mainly to the distance kept between you and them. There may be a distance here as well, or there may not. Mostly, you hope it doesn't matter, and you can prove you are as unbiased as you believe. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="5.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Welcome, initiates, to the Tebriri Nightwalkers," the woman greets, and you wince at the familiar accent. The lingering smell of sulfur infiltrates your nostrils, the smoky plumes darken the peach-colored sky, and the heat against your skin becomes unbearable. A woman stands before you, her grimace matching the growing fury in her yellow and orange colored eyes. A leaf-shaped paddle is raised over her head and brought down upon you repeatedly. Attempting to block the sounds of a child screaming is rendered pointless, and only the cool hand of another brings you back to the now. "Apologies," Ne0 whispers from beside you, its hand falling back to its side, "distressed vitals detected." [[“Don't touch me again.”|5.05DontTouchMe]] [[“Thank you.”|5.05ThankYou][$ne0_touch to true]] [[Nod.|5.05Nod][$ne0_touch to true]]
"I'm fine," you growl, "don't touch me again." "Understood." Your attention falls back on the trarkran woman, realizing that you may have missed vital information during your episode. <<include "5.06">>
You release a long and unsteady breath, feeling your heartbeat slowly decrease until it's beating at its regular pace. "Thank you," you murmur. Ne0 simply nods. Your attention falls back on the trarkran woman, realizing that you may have missed vital information during your episode. <<include "5.06">>
Clearing your throat, you sit up in your seat, nodding at Ne0's explanation. Your attention falls back on the trarkran woman, realizing that you may have missed vital information during your episode. <<include "5.06">>
"What all was said?" "Name and title. Supreme Commander Vaars Mahgunta. Further greetings established." The Supreme Commander continues. "You all have half a lunar passing to become a true Nightwalker. In that period, you will learn that your grievances and issues have no place here. Learn the area. Learn the code. Learn the people. And if you have one, learn your team. Those standing behind me are Commanders. Each is in charge of a floor that can hold an entire company. Those along the walls are handlers, each in charge of a number of you that can equal that of a platoon." "If you have an issue, you bring it to your handler. If they can't solve it, they'll hand it to the commander over you. If it continues to go unsolved, it'll find a way on my desk." She pauses, taking a moment to look around at all those in attendance. "You do not want it ending up on my desk. In fact, you don't want to be seeing my face at all. Next, you will be called by the Commander in charge of you and will meet your handler and team from there. Your handler will show you to your living quarters and give out your passes and ID. On the last day of your free time, you'll receive your class or specialization, and gear will be issued. Enjoy the rest of your day." She gives everyone in attendance a formal nod before departing. A terran commander steps up and begins to call out names. Once they're done, the next commander appears. Providing no surprise, Commander Sin begins reading their list, and your group is called. <a data-passage="5.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
After everyone has been sorted, Commander Sin greets you all with a stern yet genuine smile. "I am Commander Sin D'Baloren. Those under me will find that I only have two rules: follow directions and don't lie to me. You follow those rules, and we'll be fine. All of you start out with respect on my part. The only way you lose it is by breaking one of my rules. My door is usually always open. If it's closed, I'm probably meditating or sleeping, and you should take your concerns to your handler. Right now, I am sharing my contact with each of you. Your handler will do the same. Once you get your handler, you are dismissed." And thus, they begin to read off the handlers and all those assigned. "Handler Vittorio," Sin states, and a terran steps up. One look, and you realize their planet of origin, Terra Prime. You have seen hundreds upon hundreds of them, especially out here where they are copious. But you have always done your damnedest to avoid them. It's hard to figure out who you try to avoid more, them or the trarkran. "Your charges will be Zihr Highstrider, $name Moran, ELN-L593-NE0, <<if $cp>>Checl Queziz, Dea M'Noren, and Lay Morrows.<<else>>Dea M'Noren, and Lay Morrows.<</if>> The first <<if $cp>>four<<else>>three<</if>> are a team." Handler Vittorio nods to all of you as you separate from the remaining people near Sin. They beckon you out to the hallway, and only once you are a few feet from the wall, turn to face you. They take the faces of their new charges in. Not escaping your notice is how their eyes linger on you in what seems like confusion. "Ciao," Vittorio begins, "as Commander Sin said, I'm your handler, Vittorio. Any issues, complaints, or questions can be immediately brought to me. I'll share my contact with you once I get to the resident floors. Sin didn't say anything, but they don't care for gender-centric labels. They won't say anything due to language translations but refer to them by name or with the simplistic, generic ones. I am a male, so do with that as you please. I know each of yours, besides you." Vittorio turns to Ne0. "Concur with Commander. No pronouns." "Use 'it' if you must," you tell Vittorio, and Ne0 nods at your words. <a data-passage="5.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>"Excuse me," Checl starts, all eyes shifting to her. She clears her throat, nodding before asking. "What does a handler do?"<<else>>"Before we continue," the only other raza besides Zihr starts, "what is a handler?"<</if>> "I aid you with your hunts. When you're out in the field, I'll feed you information and answer any questions you have. If I can't answer them, I'll do everything I can to look them up. Essentially, my job is to ensure you return to the facility alive and in one piece." "Ever lose anyone?" Zihr asks, cocking his head to the side. "No," Vittorio smiles. "And I don't ever plan on it. Follow me." He leads us to the elevator and sends it to the 13th floor. "Each of you will find your room on this floor. You all have separate rooms similar to the style you may find in a lot of studio apartments. A kitchenette and bathroom are provided in each. You can decorate your living space as you see fit, but there is the occasional room flip." "Room flip?" Zihr questions. "Officials will come by and search your room. It's a random occurrence, and you're not warned about it. Typically, they don't happen at all unless the officials have cause to do one at random. As long as you're not hiding anything illegal, then you'll be fine." The lobby floor zooms out of view, growing farther and farther away until the doors behind you open up to a long hallway that you notice intersects another. <<if hasVisited("5.08Q1")>>“Any other policies we should know about?”<<else>>[[“Any other policies we should know about?”|5.08Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q2")>>“What exactly do you consider illegal?”<<else>>[[“What exactly do you consider illegal?”|5.08Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q3")>>“Is there a curfew?”<<else>>[[“Is there a curfew?”|5.08Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q4")>>“Do we get our belongings back?”<<else>>[[“Do we get our belongings back?”|5.08Q4]]<</if>> [[No questions.|5.09]]
"And what other policies should we know about?" "Such as?" "Room visits, guests, etc." "Room visits are fine. Your chip will record you being in another hunter's room for curfew reasons. Guests are first vetted and then approved and given a guest pass. That process is expedited if the guest is family. You can also take leave as long as it's run by the administration and approved. For more sudden needs to leave, run it by me or the Commander, allow us to give you approval, and report the reasons upon your return." <<if hasVisited("5.08Q2")>>“What exactly do you consider illegal?”<<else>>[[“What exactly do you consider illegal?”|5.08Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q3")>>“Is there a curfew?”<<else>>[[“Is there a curfew?”|5.08Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q4")>>“Do we get our belongings back?”<<else>>[[“Do we get our belongings back?”|5.08Q4]]<</if>> [[No questions.|5.09]]
"What exactly do you guys consider illegal?" "The common sense things," Vittorio informs. "Drugs and unauthorized weapons. Though, I'm glad you asked. All medications must be approved by the med staff, and if your room is checked and we find you in possession of medication that is not approved, you will gain an infraction. Alcohol is allowed, but another infraction will be added if you are seen wandering the halls drunk. Three infractions, and you are placed on disciplinary probation. Five, and you're out of here." His gaze lands on you. "And if you got here by unconventional means, you'll be headed to where you were supposed to be with a new sentence." Well, that answers whether or not he knows about you being a convict. <<if hasVisited("5.08Q1")>>“Any other policies we should know about?”<<else>>[[“Any other policies we should know about?”|5.08Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q3")>>“Is there a curfew?”<<else>>[[“Is there a curfew?”|5.08Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q4")>>“Do we get our belongings back?”<<else>>[[“Do we get our belongings back?”|5.08Q4]]<</if>> [[No questions.|5.09]]
"Is there a curfew?" "Only if you have a hunt, briefing, or testing the following day. Your chip will warn you and tell us if you are not in your room by the required time. If you're in another hunter's room, it's fine as well. Otherwise, you're free to come back whenever you like." <<if hasVisited("5.08Q1")>>“Any other policies we should know about?”<<else>>[[“Any other policies we should know about?”|5.08Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q2")>>“What exactly do you consider illegal?”<<else>>[[“What exactly do you consider illegal?”|5.08Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q4")>>“Do we get our belongings back?”<<else>>[[“Do we get our belongings back?”|5.08Q4]]<</if>> [[No questions.|5.09]]
<<if hasVisited("5.08Q2")>>\ "Since you already seem to know that this little group, save for Ne0, got out of prison time, I'd like to know if we'll ever see our confiscated belongings again?" Zihr nods as if to signal that he is also interested in Vittorio's answer. <<else>>\ "Some of us had our personal belongings confiscated. Any chance of seeing them again?" Zihr nods as if to signal that he is also interested in Vittorio's answer. <</if>>\ "No worries. The officials will ship them here. It won't be here immediately but you'll get a message from the front desk to come pick up your things once they do show up." "Thank you," Zihr sighs. <<if hasVisited("5.08Q1")>>“Any other policies we should know about?”<<else>>[[“Any other policies we should know about?”|5.08Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q2")>>“What exactly do you consider illegal?”<<else>>[[“What exactly do you consider illegal?”|5.08Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.08Q3")>>“Is there a curfew?”<<else>>[[“Is there a curfew?”|5.08Q3]]<</if>> [[No questions.|5.09]]
Following Vittorio out of the elevator, he leads you to the first room. "Room 17 will now belong to you, Lay Morrows." The raza steps up, accepting the pass that Vittorio hands them and directing them on how to use it. "The doors will react to your pass, chip, finger, or eye identification. The pass will always work, but if you want it to pick up the other three, you'll have to configure that, which is easy enough from the panel inside. The panel inside also works as security. It has an emergency lock and unlocking mechanism in case of a fire or gas leak. It will also alert medical and security if needed." Leaving them, Vittorio leads you down the hall and to the left of the intersection, where you find an even longer hall. "This is all floor thirteen?" "Yes," he answers, "everyone on this floor falls under Commander Sin." He stops at another door, "Zihr Highstrider, you have room 55." Repeating the process, he gives Zihr his pass and registers him with the door before moving on. Ne0 is assigned room 56<<if $cp>> and Checl, room 62<</if>>. You're the second from the last to be shown your room, which is 78. <a data-passage="5.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Entering, you take in the room you'll now be calling yours, though for how long is a mystery. Like Vittorio said, on the wall that holds the door is a kitchenette with a small booth that can fit two. From there, the bedroom begins, containing a full-sized bed, a desk, and a holo-projector that rests higher up the wall. To the right of the desk is a panel that holds the bathroom and closet. Your final stop is the window, sighing happily at the placement of your room. The city of Tebriri lays sprawled out before you. The floor gives you a better view of the city's ground level, putting you below the sky traffic and most of the skyscrapers but still high enough to enjoy most of what a cityscape view has to offer. You can only imagine what a view will provide at night. Your mind shifts to the bedroom itself. When was the last time you had a room to yourself? Never. At home on Genesis, you shared one with Dante. You found yourself in more barrack-styled living quarters in Miarilia and with the Dinami. Then there was the housing in the Outlands. The room could technically be your own, but a massive hole in the wall leading into Checl's causes you to not count it. This all feels so odd. Free yet not. [[You won't be free until your goals are met.|5.10NoFreedom]] [[What's the odds that you can run away and be successful?|5.10RunAway]]
It is something you have had to repeat to yourself time and time again, but it never hurts to remind yourself of the crucial things. You'll never be truly free until both the Dinami and the Baron are dealt with. More so the Dinami, but you have no idea what the Baron's experiments did to you and their lasting impact. <<include "5.11">>
The idea of just disappearing and leaving all of this behind feels like a cup of the most refreshing beverage. You have no doubts that it'll eat at you, maybe even to the point where you begin to regret your choices. But those few years … the few years where you'll be free from any kind of contrition or second thoughts, those years will be the ones you hold on to. But does a safe place exist when the Dinami are after you? How far does their reach extend? It seems far more likely that they'll give up chasing you than questioning whether or not they'll be able to track you. <<include "5.11">>
You decide to stop your thoughts there. Little will come from desires and wants in a world that looks to action. You head to the bed, not realizing how exhausted you are until you lie down and close your eyes. When tired eyes reopen, you find the sun has already set, welcoming night to a planet that hardly knows it. You get to your feet, leave your room behind, and enter the hall. All is quiet, with only the delicate sounds of the city to tell you that the world hasn't just become frozen in place. You head to the elevator and take it down to the underground levels. Ever since the tour guide spoke about it, you wanted to check out the facilities' gun range and combat area. Hopefully, it's late enough in the day that the typical hunter won't be around. Still rubbing sleep crust from your eye, you walk off the elevator and take in your new surroundings. Admittedly, their facilities, at least from what you can see thus far, do look better than the Dinami. Though impressive, the Dinami only maintained one gun range. This one holds three. And that's only counting those here; there could be more outside. All three have upper and lower levels, enticing you to enter. There are numerous programs to choose from, including melee and even a few programs where the simulations fire back. Perhaps the Dinami had no need for something more complex than a standard gun range. Only two sectors ever really needed the expertise, and the Dinami had zero qualms with allowing someone to die simply due to their inability to shoot a target. <a data-passage="5.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Scrolling through the programs, you finally decide on one of simplicity. One that should more so engage muscle memory than actually cause you to focus. <<if hasVisited("3.36ShootingRange")>>Memory of what happened during the trial finds its way to the forefront of your mind, but you ignore it. You're focused and in control. You'll be fine.<</if>> Starting it up, you grab a pistol and charge it up, waiting for the simulation to commence. Each pull of the trigger has you remembering your training, and though it threatens to bring with it your past, you push that down. //A still mind yields a steady hand.// Helpful advice from a particular four-eyed fool you wish to push from your thoughts. And yet, the action is hard to do when so much of what you know comes from that same person. Of course, you developed your style and picked up a few things along the way, but the basics were thanks to Tsering. [[His betrayal still stings.|5.12HisBetrayalStings]] [[You're saving a bullet for him.|5.12SavingABullet]] <<if $flirt_tser>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Hatred fills an aching heart.|5.12WhereTheresLove][$tseringRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Hatred fills an aching heart.|5.12WhereTheresLove][$tseringRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
A year later, the sting of his betrayal remains fresh in your mind. Tsering was your first friend since being introduced to this forsaken galaxy. After years of abuse, torture, and loss, you developed a mask and what you assumed was an impenetrable wall to go right along with it. That wall stayed firm even against his constant assaults. He didn't find his way in by getting rid of the wall. In fact, his later approach had been much more straightforward. He knocked on the door, and after becoming annoyed by the constant noise, you finally opened the door, and in he waltzed. You're unsure what bothers you more. The fact that you saw no sign of a possible betrayal or that you let him in to begin with, knowing all too well what it would lead to. There is pain in a betrayal, but it stings little in comparison to knowing and expecting such a thing to happen and then having the nerve to believe against it. <<include "5.13">>
There will always be a single bullet waiting to be used on him. He'd better pray to whatever deity he saw fit to follow that he manages to sneak up on you before you catch him. The only question is whether you should bury the bullet between his eyes, in his arm, or <<if $shotme>>better yet, you should let it sink into his leg.<<else>>test just how well that chitin plating of his holds up.<</if>> You'll thank him first though. Thank him for reminding you just how vital it is to trust one's instincts, no matter how much one believes they can lower their defenses. <<include "5.13">>
Your grip tightens on the weapon, and every simulated figure ends up with his face. You pull the trigger repeatedly, but no matter how many shots you take, no part feels relieved. Instead, you feel the opposite. An emptiness that pokes at you to be addressed. Your mind roars that it's due to a loss of companionship, while your heart whispers that it's due to much more than that. Your gut simply tells you to move on. To shrug off all that has happened and continue forth. This changes nothing. Feelings you might have experienced or believed to exist are meaningless in light of what he did. <<include "5.13">>
"Extraordinary," you hear someone say and turn to see Sin at a nearby terminal, looking up at something you can't see. Blinking the haze that has settled over you away, you find the simulation has ended. Leaving the room behind, you approach the shaph, your eyes sweeping from them to the holo-board that has gained their attention. They laugh. "Imagine almost breaking the record without even trying or knowing it exists." True to their words, your name rests in fifth place. [[“That's not a compliment.”|5.13NotACompliment]] [[“I don't care about a record.”|5.13IDCRecord]] [[“Oh, look at that.”|5.13OhLook]] [[Ignore the board.|5.14]]
Your eyes narrow before glancing at them. "That's not a compliment." "You being on the board?" "No, not regarding me, but regarding every name above me. Like you said, I barely tried and made it to that spot." You take a closer look at those above you; their points are far from yours, but it's nowhere near unattainable. You shake your head, lacking the understanding of where your disappointment falls. <<include "5.14">>
"I don't care about a record." "You don't," Sin points out, backing out of the screen so that it returns to a screen holding the Nightwalker symbol. "But others do. Some pride themselves on their name being high up on that list." "That's their prerogative. They'll try harder if they want to see their name remain." Sin chuckles, an action you are finding yourself growing used to, though still makes you feel wary. <<include "5.14">>
"Oh … look at that." "Could you sound more excited?" "No, it's not that," you start, attempting to answer with what it is, but the words elude you. Are you surprised that they have such a board? That you're on it? Or is it something else? Whatever it is, it gives you a headache, so you move away from the topic. <<include "5.14">>
"How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough to find my curiosity increasing. You will be a fun one, won't you." A knowing look enters their eye as they cross their lower arms. "Speaking of that. I can cross assassin off the list." "Excuse me?" They nod, motioning for you to follow. "If you were a trained assassin, my appearance wouldn't have shocked you." "Maybe I was too stuck in my own head." They turn with a smirk. "Assassins suffer from that? Doesn't matter. You can also tell by how you hold and fire a gun." "You've been up close and personal with many assassins, huh?" "Yes," they answer honestly as you board the elevator. "I've done hunts with them, two opposing sides agreeing to a temporary truce to see their prey dealt with. And sometimes, they've been my target. All of them had a certain chemistry with their weapon. So, how close am I?" [[“Far. I was an assassin.”|5.14IAmAss][$sin +=3]] [[“Not bad, I wasn't one.”|5.14NotAss][$sin +=5]] [[“Does it matter?”|5.14WhatAss][$sin -=3]] [[Remain silent.|5.14SadAss][$sin -=5]]
"Far. I was an assassin." Sin chuckles, shaking their head. "And that is why I also marked off any kind of manipulative occupation. Your lies could use some work." Your frown deepens, but Sin doesn't seem to care or perhaps mind. They continue. "I know you weren't an assassin. I wasn't asking for confirmation but to see if I was in the general area." The doors part and Sin walks forward, and you follow close behind, curious about where Sin is taking you. <<include "5.15">>
"Not bad, actually. I wasn't one." Sin frowns as they angle their head to the side, seeming deep in thought. "Unfortunately, there are several other occupations that you could have been." "And you're going to mark them off the list one at a time?" "There are a few I have already marked off. Truthfully," Sin starts just as the elevator doors part, and they move forward. "This is more for my personal enjoyment. Even if I guess correctly, I doubt you'll confirm it." "Then how do you know assassin isn't right?" Sin glances at you over their shoulder. "I asked you how close I was, not if I was right or wrong. I am confident that you //are not// an assassin." <<include "5.15">>
"Does it matter what I //was//? I'm a bounty hunter now." "Anyone else, I'd say they were right. But not with you." The want to question what they may mean by that is center stage in your mind, but you keep it to yourself, doubting Sin will answer. They leave the elevator and walk forward with you following close behind, curious about where they're taking you. <<include "5.15">>
You remain silent, and though Sin doesn't try to push you to speak further on the matter, the smile on their face tells you that this game will continue. The doors open, and Sin moves forward with you close behind, wandering where they're taking you. <<include "5.15">>
The two of you walk towards the back of the building and then outside towards what looks like a cargo area. In a steel cage in front of you rests $hound. It seems that he's smelled you as his subdued personality shifts to one of excitement as well as rage. He thrashes around, threatening to injure himself more than anyone handling the cage. <a data-passage="5.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"$hound," you call out, "calm." You make an odd shushing sound that means there is no danger or it has passed. Soon, his behavior shifts to exhaustion, pushing himself against the cage as if seeking your touch. You rest your hand on the side of his neck, and he lets out a strangled howl, his entire body moving like a dancing lizard. "You may release it," Sin tells the others, and though they exchange nervous glances, they do as they're told. As soon as the bars are lowered, $hound is upon you, refusing to move as he rests his weight on you. "Why are you like this?" you scream, unable to keep the smile from your face. "Move." He chirps out a reply that can only mean no. You accept the inevitable, lying there until $hound finds the want to move. Once he does, he rests his head against your chest, and you hug him. [[“How many people did you eat?”|5.16DidYouEatThoseMeanPeople]] [[“I missed you too.”|5.16IMissYouToo]] [[“Are you okay?”|5.16MyPreciousBoi]] [[Just hug him.|5.16JustHugginMyBoi]]
"So, how many people did you manage to maim or eat?" $hound hisses, his tongue flicking carelessly through the air. At first, you wonder if this is just him throwing a tantrum, but you realize that his tongue is dull compared to the color it once was. Part of you wants to turn to the two men who helped unload him and chastise them for letting him get to this state, but you refrain. What can you expect from idiots? This is probably their first time dealing with an aiczeots. Instead, you turn to Sin, who has remained quiet through the reunion. <<include "5.17">>
"I missed you too," you whisper, hugging him tighter. There had been an inkling of fear pertaining to the thought that you'd never see him again. Part of that fear still whirls around within you. Others may receive warnings for committed infractions, but you have something completely different that they can use against you now. Your eyes meet that of Sin, who has remained quiet through the reunion. <<include "5.17">>
"Are you okay?" you inquire, pulling back to look him over. You notice some electric prod spots and shoot a look at the two men who helped unload him. Their eyes widen, but neither can formulate a sentence explaining why. After a while, it becomes more than just a bit pathetic, and you ignore them, turning your head to Sin, who has remained quiet through the reunion. <<include "5.17">>
There is little to no need for words. You sit there and hug him, elated that he is back by your side. Your attention shifts to Sin, who has remained quiet through the reunion. <<include "5.17">>
"Are you going to say I owe you because you helped me?" "Owe me?" Sin questions, <<if hasVisited("4.46FfF")>>and then chuckles. "No, you said that. Remember? A favor for a favor." You frown because they were right, you had forgotten about your choice of words.<<else>>their head cocking to the side as if trying to decipher what you mean. You suppose that could be the case. "No. I do things because I want to. When I visited your hound, I learned how worried he was about you."<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.46FfF")>>\ "And what will that favor be?" "Perhaps I'll ask for another in the future. But for now, I only ask that you care for your hound as best as possible. He was truly worried about you, caring little for his own safety." <</if>>\ Your brows furrow. "What do you mean?" "You seem to lack knowledge about my species." A smile spreads onto Sin's face, causing you to believe that your ignorance is, at the very least, amusing to them. "When my kind are properly connected to the world, they can connect and hear other living things. It's a connection similar to the draqe. I almost wish your friend wasn't an aberrant. I would have loved to learn more about the connection their species hold." "So, $hound literally told you?" Sin makes a snorting sound, motioning for the two unloaders to leave, and then the three of you head inside. "No. Nothing such as that. It's a connection made that allows us to understand them. If you're asking if your hound simply spoke the words, then no. It was a thought shared from him to me." You're no closer to understanding but don't tarry on the idea. <a data-passage="5.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"So, what are the rules of me keeping him?" They hold up a finger and say, "One, I will not force you to make him wear a muzzle while on the premises, but if he attacks anyone, that is an infraction, and that leniency will be revoked. The city doesn't allow him, so I would try to limit your taking him out to places. I'll create a new ID stating your right to bring him, but that does not relieve you from putting a muzzle on him when in public. Two, he should always be at your side when out of your room. If anyone sees him roaming alone, they will report him, and it will not be difficult to figure out which hunter possesses an aiczeots. And lastly, his food is on you. I'll help you with the first round since you cannot buy it. But after your first two hunts, the responsibility is yours and yours alone. All of that understood?" "Understood." You return to the elevator, and though you walk inside, Sin stays on the other. "One more thing. While I am the one who vouched for you, I am not the only one keeping an eye on you, and few others believe you will be worth the trouble." Sin looks you over, a smirk playing onto their lips before giving you a confident nod. "Prove them wrong." They turn to leave. [[“Thanks for having my back.”|5.18HavingMyBack]] <<if $flirt_sin>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You're pretty sweet.”|5.18PrettySweet][$sinRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“You're pretty sweet.”|5.18PrettySweet][$sinRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“I'll do what I wish.”|5.18DoWhatIWish]] [[“We'll see.”|5.18WeShallSee]] [[Say nothing.|5.18SayNothing]]
"Thanks for having my back," you tell Sin, and they throw you a smirk over their shoulder. If they wished to say anything more, it wouldn't matter due to the elevator doors closing and taking off. <<include "5.19">>
"You know," you call out, "you're pretty sweet." The only response you get is a laugh. Even if they did wish to say something in response, the elevators make sure that whatever it was remains secret as it closes and takes off. <<include "5.19">>
"I'll do what I wish," you say just loud enough for the departing shaph to hear. They pause and glance over their shoulder at you, but nothing more can be said as the elevator doors close, and it rises. <<include "5.19">>
Resting your head against the back of the elevator, you mumble, "we'll see." You're unsure whether Sin heard you, not really being an expert on shaph anatomy and senses. If they did, then they show no sign, and as the elevator takes you up, Sin heads off. <<include "5.19">>
The doors to the elevator close before it shoots up. <<include "5.19">>
Once you make it back to your room, you take a moment to watch $hound. He goes from one side of the room to the other, filling the space and causing it to all look much smaller. You take some time to clean his scales, pampering him and making plans to do some research on how to help re-toxify his tongue back to it's normal amount. Then, for the second time since arriving, you head to bed and attempt to sleep. As soon as you lay down, $hound jumps up to join you. "There's no room," you manage to squeak out as his chitinous hide rubs against you. There really is no room, the aiczeots being nearly the same size as the bed. "$hound!" He behaves as if he doesn't hear you, continuing to readjust himself until he decides to leave the bed, wandering to the spot right below the window. Head first, he lies down against the wall, and you determine he's asleep. Maybe you'll check some of the stores for pet beds, though you doubt you'll find any big enough for him. Your eyes remain open for a while longer before sleep takes you, and you gladly let it. <a data-passage="5.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Morning brings with it a laziness that you have long since been unaccustomed to. A laziness that has you not only lying in bed without wanting to rise but also a blank mind that chooses to simply drift from one irrelevant thought to the next. This is only interrupted by a grumbling stomach, one howling to be acknowledged. Pushing yourself up, you finally get to your feet and stand by the window. You wish there was a ledge outside that would allow you to go out and feel the breeze and hear the neighboring city's soundscape. You always do your best thinking on a roof ledge, a peculiar quirk but one that seems to have become ingrained. It started with the Dinami. Going to the roof of the building and looking out over the railing the day before an assignment. The action continued in the Outlands, though you found it far nicer there. A dilapidated sloped roof, far out of reach of the nightbeasts below or the worries of the nearby city. It was just you and the sky. No matter your proximity to the city, it always feels like there is substantial enough distance to bring on the feelings of detachment. And for those few precious minutes or hours, you're not the abnormal terran — alien to terran, space-faring species, and sometimes self. On that roof, you're nothing but an inhabitant in this galaxy, with the ability to show fear or happiness or depression or fury. You can be you. A low growl gains your attention, and you feel $hound resting his head against your leg. A smile appears as you thank him for the comfort, the only being who probably knows the demons you face. And the only being you trust to aid you in running them off. "I'll be back," you tell him, "and I'll speak to Sin about where to get your food." You leave the room behind and come up on your companion rooms, pausing at … [[No one's.|5.21]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Zihr's.|5.20Zihr][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Zihr's.|5.20Zihr][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $flirt_checl and $cp>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Checl's.|5.20Checl][$checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Checl's.|5.20Checl][$checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>
Stopping outside the raza's door feels like you're asking for an earful. It's not hard to imagine him opening the door, seeing you, and then going on one of his rants about your decisions. Interestingly, that doesn't sway you to leave as much as it should. He has made it easy to detest him, yet it has only increased your intrigue. Who is this raza that knows hardly anything about himself, let alone the world around him. The raza with such an interesting moral compass but has been raised by gangs of the Outlands. Like you, Zihr hardly spoke about himself in the Outlands. Checl got him to admit some things, and others you learned only recently, hence how you know who raised him and his lack of experience outside the Spire region. But anything else was made by using deduction and paying attention, which wasn't much. At best, you learned of his motives and pieced together personality traits. But you suppose there isn't much else, and there doesn't have to be. Everyone wasn't robbed of their life with their ark or stolen from their home by a species who think themselves dominant. Some part of you pushes you to knock on the door, caring nothing for your earlier thoughts pertaining to the specific action. That part of you, the size of it a mystery, just wishes to see the raza and hear his voice. This isn't a crush, or at least that's what you tell yourself to bypass the need to chastise your thoughts. All of it was just ... a bit of fun. He gets flustered, and it was simply fun to see. [[Though ... you did like him ... kinda.|5.20ZihrDirect][$zihrRo +=5]] [[It's probably just sexual tension.|5.20ZihrReserved][$zihrRo -=5]]
It'll save you from yelling at yourself about bad decisions, but that's what it was at the end of the day. You did like him. Not enough to do something frighteningly stupid, but you find it silly to sit here and deny that much. He's attractive and has enough traits to keep you interested, and something about him is magnetic and entices you to learn and discover more. The word crush feels childish when you believe admiration is a far better term. <<include "5.20Zihr2">>
All of this is nothing more than sexual tension getting to you. Why it had to be with this specific raza? Well, the jury is still out on that, and you doubt they'll ever arrive at a concordant stance. That's all it can be, right? Yet, each time you say that, your mind flounders in trying to determine why. Appearance? Perhaps, as you did find Zihr attractive. Personality? You fight a shiver, probably not, or at least not the main factor. Maybe it was the simple idea of how good he may be in bed. But then, that doesn't explain why you react so strongly. <<include "5.20Zihr2">>
Ultimately, it doesn't matter what you admit, feel, or believe. It won't go anywhere because you won't allow it. You can consider him the most fitting partner, but it will always be for a Moran who no longer exists. The thought of an alternative Moran meeting Zihr is quite a thought. How would the two of you get along? A question you will never have the answer for because that Moran would be nothing like you. That Moran never went through your trials and, therefore, does not have the same inhibitions keeping them from ever taking that leap. <a data-passage="5.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The familiar appearance of the zeach enters your mind, and you feel your heart twist and turn giddily. The feeling is one part disgusting and another ... hopeful, perhaps? It's ridiculous. You know how foolish it is to think about the two of you together, not after all you've learned. Agreeing and falling for such a ploy is like plunging your arm into a vat of acid, smelling the caustic fumes, and refusing to withdraw your hand because you believe yourself to be fine. And Checl, being too trusting, would find nothing wrong with receiving your admiration. She would follow you to the ends of the galaxy, and the hurt that would spread across her face upon realizing who you are ... you're not sure you can bear it. That's if you even get that far. A part of you knows she doesn't have a betraying bone in her body, but you're starting to realize that's not what troubles you. What troubles you is her leaving you. The thought of seeing who you are and deciding that she doesn't like what she sees and doing what she should've done originally, walk away. //They always walk away//, your mind hisses. <a data-passage="5.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("5.20Zihr")>>Not sparing a second glance at the door, you move on, heading to the elevator alongside a few others.<<elseif hasVisited("5.20Checl")>>Glancing at her door one last time, you move on, heading to the elevator alongside a few others.<<else>>You'd describe it as more of a falter due to you trying to remember the numbers they were assigned. Failing to recall, you continue and head to the elevator alongside a few others.<</if>> Two of them are Primers, and as their eyes fall on you, a hint of disgust appears on their features. Who would've thought you would find yourself fitting in with an entire alien species more than your own? Though, one may say that Primers are no better than the raza or draqe in terms of familiarity. Many haven't even seen what Genesis looks like, and they hold no real want to witness the planet their species originated from. To them, Genesis is the past. A dirt and disease-ridden land that their ancestors were skillful enough to escape. [[A saddening thought.|5.21SaddeningThought]] [[Good riddance.|5.21GoodRiddance]]
Their prejudice towards you and other Genisers never really saddened you, not like their outlook on your planet. The argument of saying Genesis was the home of all terrans no longer held much weight after a few generations were born. Primers forgot what the world looked like, and many developed savage thoughts about it. Primers began to believe themselves to be the evolved versions, and through a scientific lens, that may be true. Augmentations riddle their beings, applied at birth to grow and adapt with them. Even if your people wanted such a thing, the fact that the Primers did it made the majority anti-augments. Any Geniser possessing the noticeable enhancements was basically ridiculed and scorned. But not all was bad. Genisers refusal to augment themselves, and perhaps the fact that Delphi Industries stayed on the planet, meant that they received the latest and greatest in Abacus technology. Amazing mods that would have even Primers raise their brow began to hit markets, and as an added point, either came with a "Genesis Exclusive" label or a higher price when selling to Primers. The elevator doors open by the time your thoughts come to an end. Most of you all move towards the cafeteria, one thing on your mind. <a data-passage="5.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They have never seen your planet, and you have never seen theirs. There is a certain pride now about it, one that you can't look at and say you are greater than. Gen's believe themselves to be in the right due to remembering who they are and where they came from. Can you honestly say that is not the case? Primers abandoned the planet and began to think themselves greater than the past while making the same mistakes. At the very least, the Primers did help with equality. The hatred individuals carried for those of different skin tones and backgrounds lessened (though that did not mean racism was not still alive and thriving). Instead, the majority of the hatred and energy went towards those possessing augmentations. The elevator doors open by the time your thoughts come to an end. Most of you all move towards the cafeteria, one thing on your mind. <a data-passage="5.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Entering, you find it already crowded, and most tables are filled with hunters and staff deep in their individual conversations. You spot Commander Sin at one table and Handler Vittorio at another. A while later, you spot your group. <<if $cp>>Did they all gather before coming here? Waiting outside each other's doors or sending messages to better coordinate?<<else>>Did the two of them gather before coming here? Zihr dropping by to grab Ne0 and the two of them arriving together?<</if>> Or is your mind simply trying to create problems for you? You shouldn't care. In fact, you should be happy that this may be the case. When you leave this behind, there will be no mourning of you, no incessant questions, and no doubt that your solitary path is still just that. The Dinami's words ring fresh in your ears as if they stand right behind you, reminding you of one of the most important lessons you learned. //You can rely on no one. At any given moment, any of those before you will stab you in the back simply to step on your corpse and continue to the next. Either beat them to it or make it impossible for them to accomplish such a goal.// If only you had kept such a thing in mind with Tsering. You head to the line, going to the appropriate area lest you wish to digest something that will upset your stomach or worse. Thankfully, the options are many, and you decide upon ... [[A hearty breakfast.|5.23]] [[A quick snack, a muffin and juice.|5.23]] [[Some cereal and toast.|5.23]]
With your food on your tray, you find yourself facing a question as old as time. One you thought you had been freed from since leaving school behind. Where to sit? [[Alone.|5.23Alone]] [[With your group.|5.23Group]] [[With Commander Sin.|5.23CommanderSin]]
On the far left is a secluded area where like-minded people can enjoy their meal without the company of others. To get there, you walk past your group but pay them no mind. If they wanted you to sit with them, they would have collected you. Taking a seat, you begin eating, allowing your thoughts to categorize everything you need to take care of. You need to buy more clothes, seeing you came here without any. $hound would need food, which means finding a butcher, preferably a vetix or auvvrak. You'd like to learn what areas offer abacus mods to get yours back on par with what it once was. Weapons and armor-wise, the bounty hunters will satisfy that need, but you'll have to figure out what extras you'll need afterward. Thankfully, the list is short. You've grown so used to living with the bare minimum that asking for more seems unnecessary. Your chip dings, alerting you to a message from Commander Sin. //Come by my table before leaving.// You finish eating and do as the message asks, the others approaching at the same time. <<include "5.24">>
You still approach the table despite the dark thoughts ricocheting through your mind. At the very least, you'll hear their reason. <<if $cp>>\ Checl is the first to react, a friendly enough smile appearing as she moves over. "We tried to wake you," she reassures as she gazes at the others. "Well, I did anyway. But you didn't answer the door, so I gave up." Your previous doubts are silenced, though they maliciously dare you to relax. Her words make you realize that last night was the first time in a very long time that you could finally sleep heavily. "Sleeping in a room alone is … odd," Zihr admits, frowning as he picks at his bowl of food. You're unsure whether he doesn't trust it or is simply not hungry. "I agree," Checl echoes. "I've never slept in a room alone." "Never?" you question, and she nods. "Privacy isn't a thing with the ark, not that any of us mind. We all sleep in the same area, in clear view of one another. I did have my room in the Outlands, but the hole in the wall didn't feel like it was just me. You were only a shout away." "Don't remind me," you laugh. "I didn't even have a room," Zihr chuckles. "You did," Checl frowns, causing Zihr to practically choke on his food. "Have you ever walked into my so-called room? The wall was one hit away from collapsing, and there was a huge hole in the floor." His frown deepens. "I almost fell through. I was lucky no one was in the apartment below." "Oh my," Checl laughs sympathetically, leaning over to cling to his arm. "You're always welcome in my room if the quiet gets to you." <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Mine as well.”|5.23Group.ZihrReserved][$zihrRo +=2; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Mine as well.”|5.23Group.ZihrReserved][$zihrRo +=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You're more than welcomed in my bed.”|5.23Group.ZihrDirect][$zihrRo -=2; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“You're more than welcomed in my bed.”|5.23Group.ZihrDirect][$zihrRo -=2; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“That same invitation, but to you Checl.”|5.23Group.CheclNervous][$checlRo +=2; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“That same invitation, but to you Checl.”|5.23Group.CheclNervous][$checlRo +=2; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I can make it louder for you, Checl.”|5.23Group.CheclTeasing][$checlRo -=2; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“I can make it louder for you, Checl.”|5.23Group.CheclTeasing][$checlRo -=2; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“We could all gather at times.”|5.23Group.GatherAtTimes]] [[“Or you can just get used to it.”|5.23Group.GetUsedToIt]] [[Say nothing.|5.23Group.SayNothing]] <<else>>\ "Greetings," Ne0 greets while Zihr simply nods to address you. Instead of answering, you yawn and take a seat. "Guess you slept better than me then." "Issues?" you ask, and he shrugs. "I'm just not used to being in a room by myself. It's too quiet." "The sounds of the city didn't help." "That annoyed me more than anything. Every sound had me waking up thinking something was wrong. I don't see how you slept well at all." <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You can share the bed with me next time.”|5.23Group.Zihr][$zhirRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“You can share the bed with me next time.”|5.23Group.Zihr][$zhirRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Different circumstances.”|5.23Group.Circumstances]] [[Shrug.|5.23Group.Shrug]] <</if>>\
"My room is open to you as well," you reassure him, not really shocked by how his face morphs into one of shock. "Wh- Why?" he stutters, clearing his throat and about to say something else when all of you receive a message from Sin, potentially saving Zihr from any awkwardness. <<include "5.24">>
You hum. "Well, you're always welcome in my bed, Zihr." "I'd rather sleep on the floor," he mumbles. "Floor, table, counter, shower," you tease. "I'm down for multiple locations, all in one night too." Zihr appears less than pleased with your words, and if he had been deciding to say anything, he chooses silence. No one else can say anything either, as you all receive a message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
"I'll offer the same invitation but to you, Checl." Her eyes widen, and for a while, she's quiet as if trying to see if you'll correct yourself. When you don't, she sits up straighter and gravitates towards you. "Maybe I'll take you up on it." You smile, opening your mouth to reply when you all receive a message from Sin, much to Checl's disappointment. Yet, at least it keeps you from digging a deeper hole. You can tell yourself repeatedly to stop, but if you don't practice those words, what will be the use? What will you do once that hole is far too deep to dig out? <<include "5.24">>
"Well, if you come to my room, Checl, I can always make everything a bit louder for you." Checl chokes on her food while Zihr gazes from you to her in confusion, possibly not understanding what you mean. It doesn't really matter; Checl knows what you are referring to. Regretfully, she never gets a response out due to all of you receiving a message from Sin. Yet, at least it keeps you from digging a deeper hole. You can tell yourself repeatedly to stop, but if you don't practice those words, what will be the use? What will you do once that hole is far too deep to dig out? <<include "5.24">>
"We could all gather here and there," you shrug, frowning at your words but not taking them back. "Team bonding or something like that." You're aware of the looks you receive. All of them, save for Ne0, wait for you to add something else to assure them that $name is sitting before them. You almost comply simply to disperse the awkward air, but before you can decide whether you wish to, all of your terminals ding with a message alert. It only takes a few seconds to determine that you all got the same message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
"Or you can just get used to it," you sigh, picking up your gaze to look at the both of them. "If you stay in this field, you'll always have a room to yourself unless you transfer to a smaller organization. And if you leave and pursue another grand career, you'll probably buy a studio apartment or something similar." Your explanation begins to annoy you, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh. "Period, get used to it. You're acting like children." Zihr's mouth opens, and for a moment, you consider where your head is and if you have the energy to argue with him. Thankfully, you're not able to figure that one out as you all receive messages from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
The two continue to speak about the Outlands and their individual rooms. Sometimes, they include Ne0, who adds in very little due to the fact that it never sleeps and is unsure what the action is. You'll have to ask later what it does; you're interested in how they regain energy. Their conversation is cut short by your terminals dinging, alerting all of you to a message. It only takes a few seconds to determine that you all got the same message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
"You can share the bed with me next time you feel like it. I don't mind." Zihr's eyes narrow as he stares at you, attempting to figure out whether you are simply teasing him or if you're actually being honest with your suggestion. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Of course you're teasing.|5.23GZ.Teasing][$zihrRo -=2]]<<else>>[[Of course you're teasing.|5.23GZ.Teasing][$zihrRo -=2]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[You're being sincere.|5.23GZ.Sincere][$zihrRo +=2]]<<else>>[[You're being sincere.|5.23GZ.Sincere][$zihrRo +=2]]<</if>>
Your smirk should've been enough of an answer, and as Zihr continues to stare, he finds out for himself how you meant your words. "I'd rather sleep on the floor," he mumbles. "Floor, table, counter, shower," you tease, "I'm down for multiple locations, all in one night too." He appears less than pleased with your words, and if he had been deciding to say anything, he chooses silence. It wouldn't matter anyway, as you all receive a message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
You're unsure whether or not he knows you're being sincere. You hadn't said it in a purely platonic way; your interest in Zihr should at least be knowledgeable by now. "You take one half, I take the other," you explain, "can even put up a pillow wall." "A pillow wall?" "Exactly what it sounds like. A wall made of pillows." "And that works?" You shrug, happy that Zihr hadn't shut the idea down immediately. Your focus shifts to your wrist terminal as it warns you of an incoming message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
"It's different circumstances," you tell him honestly, "I never could sleep around with others nearby." "And the noise?" You wave that one away, "it's the sounds of a city. I'm used to it." He doesn't reply, though it's not like he had much time to do so anyway, as all of you receive a message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
You shrug, inevitably ending the conversation there. No one else says anything more as you all silently finish your breakfast. And, as if they had been watching you, as soon as the three of you stand, your terminals ding with a message from Sin. <<include "5.24">>
You approach the table with some reservations, unsure if Sin will allow you to sit with them and the others who have chosen the same. Their eyes meet yours and come to life, nodding to the empty space right in front of them. "How is $hound adjusting?" "Pretty well. He already took the best spot in the room if you ask me." "Remarkable," they laugh, capturing the other commanders' attention, but they say nothing. You notice their stares. There is no open animosity. Mostly, their gazes seem more akin to curiosity than anything else. The more you think about it, the more you realize what they're probably focused on. Your markings. You stiffen, silently ridiculing yourself to relax and ignore them. They are not the first and will not be the last. And yet, this is something you'll have to face for the rest of your life. "And you?" Sin asks, pulling your attention back to them. "Attempting to try and find another piece for your puzzle?" "Always," they smile charmingly. [[Answer them.|5.23SinAnswer]] <<if $flirt_sin>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Buy me a drink first.”|5.23SinDrink][$sinRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Buy me a drink first.”|5.23SinDrink][$sinRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
"You know," you start, attempting to match their charm, curious if you're successful. "It'll be much easier for me to talk if you just bought me a drink." "Something tells me that your tongue would not be so loose." "Curious about that too, huh?" A different twinkle enters Sin's eye as they regard you, one that you're not easily able to place. Despite never losing that smile, the conversation suddenly feels different. Not uncomfortable, and yet, territory you're unfamiliar with and far too chary towards to trample upon. <<include "5.23Sin.1">>
You hum. "It's decent. There's more space than I've had in a while, and the best part is that it's mine. Could do with access to the roof, though." "What an odd request." You shrug. You've long since stopped explaining why you adore the pastime so much. Some people liked to sit outside during thunderstorms, others liked to climb the highest mountain peaks, and you liked to rest atop roofs. <<include "5.23Sin.1">>
The two of you finish your breakfast, and as you go to rise, Sin raises a hand, and you pause. They fiddle with their chip, and then a few seconds later, your team approaches. <<if $cp>>"$name," Checl greets with a wide smile before it relaxes into bewilderment. "You ate? Why didn't you sit with us?" Thankfully, Sin begins to speak, allowing you to get out of supplying her with an answer.<<else>>Ne0 and Zihr greet you with nods.<</if>> <a data-passage="5.24"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<set $solars +=80>><</nobr>>\ <<if hasVisited("5.23Group")>>You all approach the table, gaining Sin's attention. <</if>>"I'm sending each of you a small bonus, what we call the launch bonus. You have three days before training and assignments begin so use this money to get anything you need." They glance up with a hint of warning in their eyes. "Not all at once either. You'll be receiving your team position tomorrow so some hunters wait until then. It's not necessary but it is an option. Also, $name. I put in an order for appropriate food for your aiczeots. Go by this place and hand them this note to receive it." Sin gives you the note in question before placing their attention on others at their table. <<if $cp>>\ "You mean this is a shopping day?" Checl questions, her eyes widening, not even allowing Sin to answer as she begins to pace back and forth. "Finally! A shopping trip." Commander Sin gazes from her to the rest of you. "I expect at least one of you to keep an eye on her." <<else>>\ "You got $hound back?" Zihr asks and you nod in reply. "I'm happy for him. Hopefully he didn't eat anyone." You smirk, but leave the conversation there. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="5.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Seeing no other reason to stay in the cafeteria, you and your team leave and head outside. Though the headquarters rests away from the city, it's close enough to walk and due to the weather you find no issue with the light exercise. Once in the heart, you travel from one clothing store to the next, attempting to budget but also expand an already meager closet. At the same time, you attempt to learn where everything is without relying on your abacus. You pay close attention to the best places to disappear and where they may lead out too. "Plans?" you question leaving the last clothing store behind. <<if $cp>>\ Checl taps her chin. "I think I want to stay on this street and tree hop." "Tree hop?" you question, deciding to keep the lack of trees in your immediate surroundings to yourself. "Do you terrans not have a word for it? When you go from one store to another to look what they have." "Ah," you remark with a nod. "Yes, we call that window shopping." Her confused look matches yours from earlier and both of you find it better to just leave it at that. "We're about to become hunters and you want to play dress-up?" Zihr questions, raising a doubtful brow. "And let me guess, you want to go look at all the weapons and tools you can spend money on later?" He seems almost offended by her guess, shifting uncomfortably and refusing to answer. "Thought so," she grumbles, rolling her eyes and seeming even more ready to go than before. "Ne0? You with me?" Zihr questions but Ne0 shakes its head. "Cultural city. Further analysis …" it trails off, cocking its head before finally finishing its sentence. "<<if $neo >=50>>Deserved<<else>>Required<</if>>." "And you?" Checl questions, <<if $checl_touch>>grabbing ahold of your hand and squeezing it.<<else>>looking at you expectantly.<</if>> <<else>>\ "We're about to be hunters. We should check out what weapon and tool stores have agreements with the Nightwalkers. I'd also like to learn more about those things Vittorio was talking about before. Mods, I think?" You're silent as your gaze moves to Ne0 who looks around, behaving as if you hadn't asked a question earlier. "Ne0?" Zihr asks before you can, "you with us?" It shakes its head. "Cultural city. Further analysis …" it trails off, cocking its head before finally finishing its sentence. "<<if $neo >=50>>Deserved<<else>>Required<</if>>." Zihr glances at you, his eyes questioning your own plans. <</if>>\ //Though each path can be taken and played with a non-romanced Moran, the choices for Zihr and Checl hold valuable romantic content to further their romance paths.// [[Go alone.|5.25Alone]] [[Go with Zihr.|5.25Zihr]] [[Go with Ne0.|5.25Ne0]] <<if $cp>>\[[Go with Checl.|5.25Checl][$checlLo +=1]]<</if>>\
<<if $ticketforone>>\ "I'll go with Zihr." "No," he growls, shaking his head and pointing at <<if $cp>>the others. "Go with one of them. I don't want you around me."<<else>>Ne0. "Go with Ne0 or by yourself, I don't care. I don't want you around me."<</if>> "Still mad about the whole city entry thing?" "Shut up," he growls, "we're not on friendly terms." He turns to walk away, and you roll your eyes. That's his prerogative, you suppose, unsure if you'd react differently if roles were reversed. <<if $attitude <=40>>No, you'd probably just shoot him and move on.<</if>> You gaze over at <<if $cp>>the others<<else>>Ne0<</if>>, wondering if you would join <<if $cp>>them<<else>>it<</if>> or head out alone. [[Go alone.|5.25Alone]] [[Go with Ne0.|5.25Ne0]] <<if $cp>>\[[Go with Checl.|5.25Checl][$checlLo +=1]]<</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $zihrLo +=1>><</nobr>>\ You nod at Zihr, who looks both surprised and unaffected. After agreeing to meet up in the center once finished, you head out. Walking down the street, neither of you says anything to the other. He doesn't question if you know where you're going, nor do you ask him about his lack of questioning. The silence allows you to look around. It's not quite as diverse as other cities you've been in. There, you found yourself swimming in an ocean filled with so many aliens that, at times, you questioned the entire concept of one finding themselves self-important. Those cities held beings that walked on two legs, hobbled on one, or paraded on eight. Some with gelatinous bodies and others with skin that resembled crystals. Individuals hosting four eyes and sometimes five, sometimes those eyes will appear on areas you thought stomachs or chests should be. The galaxy is a wondrous place, even if you didn't choose to be a part of it willingly. Continuing, you check your chip as you pass a few others walking in the opposite direction. A left at the next intersection, and you'll be there. <a data-passage="5.25Zihr1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Why do they do that?" Zihr questions. You glance at him and follow his gaze to three raza walking away. "Some back at the Nightwalkers headquarters looked at me the same way and then again during the hunter trials. Like I disgusted them. I changed my clothes and showered. I don't understand." The shower part causes a brow to raise, but you already understand what he's referring to. "I don't know everything about it, but the raza culture has a caste system, and in that system, you'll be known as caste-less. You're basically trash to them." "What, why? What did I do?" "Nothing," you shrug nonchalantly. "You were born outside of your government and culture." Sighing, you stop walking to turn to him. "You got a lot to catch up on. This isn't the Outlands where the strong garners respect, and the weak need to learn to survive or cling to the strong. Here, the most powerful people never lift a finger. They command others to do it. The grunts. The strong aren't the best fighters. Half the time, they're not even the best speakers. They're just the best manipulators." "And if I wanted to change things?" [[“Can't see why not.”|5.25ZWhyNot][$zihr +=10]] [[“Not likely.”|5.25ZNotLikely][$zihr -=10]]
Part of you wishes to convey that it's hopeless, not when the world has already decided how it wants to be run. It was even more hopeless for one raza from the Outlands on Crion. "I'm not going to say it's impossible, but it won't be simple." You shrug. "If you want it that bad, you'll find a way." You're surprised to see him give you a determined look as if your words spurred something within him. Perhaps they have, and you say no more on it. <<include "5.25Zihr2">>
You almost wish to laugh. How many times have you heard such wishful thinking? "Braver people than you have tried to do less and failed. So, no. It's not likely." Knowing Zihr, he'll take that as a challenge, or so you think, until you gaze over at him and see his face pulled into a pensive frown. <<include "5.25Zihr2">>
"Regardless. You'll get used to it." "Used to it?" he asks in disgust. "Used to being looked at like some outcast or freak. Like some -" "Alien?" His eyes meet yours, and he seems to understand, letting his train of thought fade. The two of you enter the first gun store you come across, and after checking to see if they are partnered with the Nightwalkers, you peruse their stock. You chuckle lightly, regaining Zihr's attention. "I'm surprised you didn't try to question the markings again." "I've asked that question too many times to already know that the answer is silence." "Mind telling Checl that?" "I'm surprised you haven't told her everything. She gets the truth out of me fairly easily." "Admit it, it's the eyes." "Probably so," he laughs. "Uh, do you … do you find their species attractive?" [[“Not really.”|5.25ZNotReally]] [[“I do.”|5.25ZIDo]] [[“I find Checl attractive.”|5.25ZCheclAtt]]
"Not really. Honestly, I've never understood the hype a lot of species have surrounding zeaches." Your eyes rise to look at him, "you?" <<include "5.25Zihr3">>
"I do. The first time I ever saw a zeach, I understood what the hype was about immediately. I can't tell you exactly what makes them so attractive, but they are." Your eyes rise to look at him. "You?" <<include "5.25Zihr3">>
"I find Checl attractive," you clarify. "Can't say much about her entire species." Your eyes rise to look at him. "You?" <<include "5.25Zihr3">>
"I find the species attractive. Can't say much about Checl, though." "Oh?" you laugh. "You have a type then?" "A type?" "Traits and appearance mostly. But things you find yourself attracted to." "Ah," he nods, "I don't know. I know Checl's personality isn't something I find interesting, if that's what you mean." <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“What's your type then?”|5.25ZTypeThen][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“What's your type then?”|5.25ZTypeThen][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Change the subject.|5.25ZChangeSubject]]
"What's your type then?" He shrugs. "I don't really know. Never thought about it or found it important to think about." He pauses, lingering on a gun, but his attention seems to be on something else. "Maybe someone who challenges me more? Someone who takes what they want and isn't shy about it. The type to say what's on their mind because there's no reason to hide their thoughts." He drifts off, soon shaking his head. "Like I said. Never thought much on it." [[“Just say me.”|5.25ZSayMe][$zihrRo -=2]] [[“Never had any crushes in the Outlands?”|5.25ZCrushes][$zihrRo +=2]]
His eyes rise to meet yours, and he immediately recoils upon seeing your smirk, possibly already knowing what's on your mind. "Oh, Zihr. Next time, it'd be easier to just say me. I'm your type." "You're not." "Are you sure about that? I think I challenge you all the time." "You challenge my patience." "Give me ten minutes, and I can fix that." He sneers. "You need ten minutes?" You shrug. "I can definitely do it in five. But I'd rather take my time and enjoy it." "Do you know how annoying you are or does it not even register?" You snort loudly, deciding to let that question be what ends the conversation. Despite this, Zihr continues to look at you though you don't think it's because he's waiting for a response. His eyes are on you but his attention has traveled past you. <a data-passage="5.25Zihr4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Really? Did no one catch your eye in the Outlands?" He shakes his head. "Not that people didn't flirt with me, but I never cared to give them any attention. You understand." "I do?" He seems to doubt his previous statement but continues on regardless. "There's no time to stop and worry about stuff like that. Even more, everyone in the Outlands has their own agenda. You sleep with someone and wake up to find your solars gone." You hum. "I won't disagree, but not everyone in life is like that." He stares at you. "Do you not have your own ulterior motives?" "I have motives, but they have nothing to do with the people I'm interested in." Zihr peers at you but says nothing else, and neither do you. <a data-passage="5.25Zihr4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shrug before throwing him a smirk and saying, "who would've ever thought gun shopping with you would make you chatty." He chuckles, "I'm still trying to get used to everything." He gestures to the store. "In the say Outlands, this would be stupid. It's way too easy to steal something." You point at the door. "You won't get far. Chips on the guns make it nigh impossible to get them outside the store. A kinetic barrier goes up, and you're detained. There are ways to get past that, of course. But it requires hacking." Zihr sighs tiredly. "I should've stayed in the Outlands. This is tiring." "Learning that a whole other world exists?" "The Outlands is straight and to the point. This place has too much intrigue … it plays too many games." His brow furrows as he looks at you with an almost knowing expression, "kind of like you." "And here I thought we were having a good chat." "Am I lying?" [[“Just because you don't know doesn't mean I'm playing games.”|5.25ZPlayingGames]] [[“Conversation over.”|5.25ZConversationOver]]
"Just because I don't answer your many … many questions doesn't mean I'm playing games. It's none of your business, or I'd tell you." He hums, "you're right. We were having such a good chat." We end the conversation there, ignoring the air between us. I'd be surprised if this was the first time a decent conversation had turned sour between us, but it wasn't. <<include "5.25Zihr4">>
"This conversation is over." "Another way of saying that I'm onto something." "And here we are still talking about it." He says nothing more, but it is far too late to recover the once-friendly air that had existed. <<include "5.25Zihr4">>
You continue looking through their stock before visiting a few other stores. The guns will be cheaper thanks to the contracts with the Nightwalkers, but you'll hardly find better guns among them. The mods will be helpful, but if you want things far more powerful, these stores won't cut it. When you return, you need to research the caliber of guns you'll have. You doubt these guns will be as powerful as the ones the Dinami give out. You also need to know how the Nightwalkers will react if you use a gun not issued by them. Internally, you sigh. It just feels like so much red tape is wrapped around you. And even more, red-tape that has once always been green in the eyes of the Dinami. Seeing that you're both done, you head to the square to meet up with <<if $cp>>the others<<else>>Ne0<</if>>. <<if hasVisited("5.25ZTypeThen")>>\ "What's your type?" You blink, not realizing that Zihr has said something, until something scratches at your mind to pay attention, and you glance over to see him staring at you. "Hmm?" "Your type," he repeats, this time clearing his throat now that you're looking at him, you suppose. "I told you mine, but you never said yours." "Ah, the conversation that we had five stores back," you snort. [[“It changes with my mood.”|5.25ZRMood]] [[“A particular raza.”|5.25ZRYou]] [[“Why so curious?”|5.25ZRCurious]] <<else>>\ <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"I'm a pretty open person," you smirk, "my type changes depending on my mood." "I'm serious." "Oh, so am I. If I need someone to make me laugh, that's my type. Do I need someone to just let me rant and talk their ear off? Well, my type is now a good listener." "It was stupid to even bring it up." He more so mumbles the last part, taking on the look of a petulant child who is used to getting their way. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> [[Let it go.|5.25ZRLetGo]]
"Oh, that's simple. It's a particular raza." "I know where this is going, and I'm being serious." "What makes you think I'm not? Just because you're too shy about my answer?" "It was stupid to even bring it up." He more so mumbles the last part, taking on the look of a petulant child who is used to getting their way. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> [[Let it go.|5.25ZRLetGo]]
"Why so curious all of a sudden? You obviously didn't care much back at the store." "I did," he argues, his frown deepening, "Didn't. I just thought you'd tell me yours automatically." "Now, when have I ever done something like that?" "You're right. It was stupid to even bring it up." He more so mumbles the last part, taking on the look of a petulant child who is used to getting their way. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Answer him.|5.25ZRAnswer][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> [[Let it go.|5.25ZRLetGo]]
Sighing, you decide to give him some of the line, despite what everything inside of you says. What is the purpose of giving him this information? What point are you proving? Are you simply trying to prolong a chase that shouldn't be had at all? One after the other, these questions rush to you, and you ignore all of them. "If you want to know the truth," you start, feeling Zihr's eyes land on you as you continue to look forward. "I don't know. I'm pretty much in the same boat as you in never having really thought about it. I know the basis because I have eyes, but I've never actually had to think about romance or anything related to it. So, thinking about what or who my ideal partner would be was a waste of time." "Do you still feel that way?" "What way?" you ask, finally gazing towards him. "That thinking about it is a waste of time?" Those eyes bore into yours. They most definitely would if they could fish out the answer on their own. It's a kind but piercing gaze. The type of stare that tries to disarm and reassure you while actively holding a knife to your throat. Manipulative? No. There is genuine curiosity, and it is that which throws you for a loop. "Yea," you cough, smirking as you shake the previous thoughts from your mind. "What will I do with a partner? You've met me. I'd tear them apart." "Perhaps," he responds. "Just means you need someone who can challenge you." You say nothing, and neither does he as you continue walking. Each step makes you yearn more and more for him to say something more. What, you don't know. You have no idea what he can say to bring peace to your mind, but something. Anything but this contemplative silence. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You say nothing more, neither does he, and you continue towards the square. He'll be fine without an answer; it's not like it will change anything, but it's a fact you must continuously remind yourself of. <<include "5.26">>
"I'll stick with Checl," you tell the others, and though they don't seem to care, Checl obviously celebrates. After agreeing to meet up in the center once finished, you head out. <<if $checl_touch>>Checl grabs your hand and yanks you after her<<else>>Checl motions for you to follow before rushing off<</if>>, passing store after store until stopping by one with peculiar patterns and colors. "These look nice," she exclaims, bringing up the store window's catalog and scrolling through all they have in stock. You raise a brow, "truly?" "Yes," she smiles, looking you up and down, "did you get so attached to your prison blues?" "Oh," you snort, faking a laugh that widens her smile, "you're so hilarious." "I am kidding. But," her smile falters as she continues, "I'm happy that, at the very least, I can do this." "Window - I mean tree hop?" "Yes. I didn't think I'd get the chance to do it again." "I didn't think you were that invested in clothing." "Fashion is a popular hobby. I believe it's because of the colors." "Why colors?" <a data-passage="5.25Checl1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
She draws your attention to her head feathers, "colors are a big part of our culture." Her eyes seem to light up as she turns to you, "did you know that we see far more colors than you terrans? I think the number was in its thousands." "Wait, so what color is my hair to you?" She shakes her head and chuckles. "It's not that easy. I could tell you the color, but picturing and understanding what that color is won't be helpful. But I always loved that." "Being able to see colors others can't?" "No. It's more like I love how color can just change everything. In our culture, to attract a mate, we collect feathers and flowers and … well, anything we can find to make a //r̊osh su//." "Wait," you interrupt, "a …?" Attempting to repeat the word proves far too hard, and you abandon the idea. "It's like a wreath. Hopefully, these words exist in your language." You nod, "I know what you're talking about now." <a data-passage="5.25Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's //like// a wreath, but not exactly that. You collect colors you find pleasing to the eye, and during the festival, we display them. Intended mates who like your combination will come. If you like their combination, you merge your r̊osh su. Those colors represent your love, and at every festival, you may take or add a color. It is said that if both pairs choose the same color, their future will be without worry. If they add a color that compliments the other's, they will overcome any problems, and if they add conflicting colors, their future will be a colorful challenge." [[“How does that work with other species?”|5.25COtherSpecies]] [[“Colorful challenge?”|5.25CChallenge]] [[“Every species has their superstitions, I see.”|5.25CSpecies]]
"How does all of that work with other species?" "What do you mean?" "If a zeach was trying to court a vetix, for example." "Bad example," she snickers, "vetix can see almost all the same colors as us." "Okay, then use terran as the example." <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>She shies away, allowing her gaze to meet anything but you before answering.<</if>> "It works the same, maybe even more intimately, since a zeach will see colors the other can't." <<include "5.25Checl3">>
"Colorful challenge? That makes it sound like a good thing." "It is. It just means the relationship will be tested." "Then all of the outcomes were positive. Where's the 'if your colors don't match, then doom upon your relationship?'" She cocks her head in confusion before understanding something and nodding. "Not every culture is built around negativity. Not to say that we don't possess it, but we don't look at it like yours might." That makes sense, at least. You're not entirely caught up with zeach history, but you know that they have one of the most peaceful timelines. Not even the vetix appropriation changed that. <<include "5.25Checl3">>
"Always good to know that every species has their superstitions." <<include "5.25Checl3">>
She hums to herself, wearing a good-natured smile as she lowers the shopping window. "Didn't find anything?" "Most of their colors are awful. Most zeaches will create their own clothes because we simply abhor wearing colors that we find unappealing." [[“What are your favorite colors?”|5.25CFavColors]] [[“What happens if you abhor your own feathers?”|5.25CDislikeFeathers]] [[“I can only imagine how you felt about the Outlands.”|5.25COutlands]]
"What are your favorite colors then? Any that exist that I know of?" "I'm a big fan of the darker pinks. But out of all of them, the one you call rose gold is my favorite." "I would have never thought that would be one of them." She shrugs, "I don't like how it looks against my feathers. It's not ugly, but it's not pleasing to the eye either." You hum in thought as she guides you away from the stores and down the street to head towards the square. <<include "5.25Checl4">>
"What happens if you hate your own feathers then?" "Honestly, I don't know. I've never met someone who did. Mostly, our feathers seem to dictate what colors we might find appeasing later." She touches the feathers resting along her arm and narrows her eyes in pensive thought. "I know it probably happens, but it feels foreign. I couldn't imagine ever hating the colors I was given at birth." These thoughts seem to consume her as she guides you away from the stores and down the street toward the square. <<include "5.25Checl4">>
"I can only imagine how you felt about the Outland clothing then." "Ugh," she laughs, dramatically shaking her head, "don't remind me. I was happier to wear those prison uniforms." You laugh as she guides you away from the stores and down the street toward the square. <<include "5.25Checl4">>
<<if $checlRo >=2>>\ The two of you walk silently, both too busy taking in the city's sights. Or, at least, you are. The rare moments you look at Checl, you notice that her feathers are beginning to stand on end, and she plays with her hands incessantly. She soon begins to waver from her path, running into you before lurching away, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. "Checl." "$name." You both say at the same time, though differently. You say her name with a hint of annoyance, hoping that questioning her will cause her actions to cease. Yet, she says your name almost as if lost, and you alone can answer the question. "What is it?" She pauses, refusing to look at you when she asks her next question. "Do you … do you like me?" "Wouldn't be walking with you if I didn't," you answer, noticing a mod store. You'll have to remind yourself to come by later and check it out. "No." She moves so that you're forced to stop and look at her. At first, she seems to second-think the action, but then shakes her head and continues to speak. "I mean, do you like me more than a friend? Do you like me romantically?" The question surprises you momentarily. You hadn't been expecting this to be the topic of conversation today. <a data-passage="5.25Checl5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ The two of you walk silently, both too busy taking in the city's sights. You'll have to come through one day to learn more about the setup. Maybe even bring $hound, though the fact that he'll have to wear a muzzle will probably cause him to second-think the adventure. <<include "5.26">> <</if>>\
"We were having a great walk," you point out, gesturing to your surroundings, "can we not spoil it?" Refusing to relent, she entraps your hand between hers, squeezing it as she looks you in the eyes as if attempting to parse the truth that way. "Is it because we are different species?" "Checl," you reply, gazing off to the side, hoping your lack of interest in talking about this will cause her to finally let the topic go. "Am I that unappealing then? Is it because of the trust thing?" Your eyes meet hers, "Checl, stop." "You know, one day, you're going to have to put your trust in someone, or you're going to hurt yourself, or something worse may happen. All because something from your past stopped you from trusting in people. You can't go your entire life -" [[“Are you interested in being a quick fuck?”|5.25CQuickFuck]] [[“Does it have to be something?”|5.25CHaveToBeSomething]] [[“Drop it!”|5.25CDropIt]] [[“It has nothing to do with you. But me.”|5.25CAllMeBabe]]
"Answer me this,' you interrupt, refusing to hear the rest of //that// rant. "Are you interested in being just another quick fuck?" "What? Of course not." "Then that's why. It has nothing to do with your appearance or race. It's simply because I know that's not what you want." Her eyes narrow, and she looks as if you had just slapped her in the face instead of easing her worries. "So, you like me only enough to have some fun." Realization floods over you, but there is little to say to make her feel better. The truth won't make her feel any better and will only summon another rant. It doesn't matter how attractive you believe she is. How good-natured or loyal … none of that matters when you refuse to let her in due to the knowledge that she'll walk away. You nod to the path in front of you. "Come on. We're almost to the square." <<include "5.25Checl6">>
"Does it have to be something? Why can't we just do what we're doing." "Because I don't want to. Not everyone thinks the way you do. I like you too much to be someone you tease when you feel like it. And I …" She trails off, her emotions getting the better of her as she tries to formulate her words and thoughts. "We're almost to the square," you tell her, continuing forth. You're not sure if she's following, but you continue anyway. <<include "5.25Checl6">>
"Checl," you roar, your nostrils flaring as you turn to her. She shrinks away from your gaze, and though you manage to calm down, your tone remains the same. "Drop. It." You continue forward, not caring if she's following or not. <<include "5.25Checl6">>
"It has nothing to do with you, okay? Not your species, your attractiveness, or who you are. None of that, so stop worrying." "Then what?" "Me. And that's why, no matter what we discuss here. Nothing will change." "I know who you are, though," she argues, causing you to let out a boisterous laugh. A few patrons along the sidewalk give you side-ways looks, but you ignore them. "No," you chuckle, the laugh calming down, "no, you don't. You know parts of me. The parts that I'm willing to share. But that is such a tiny fraction. It's better you don't." "And if I disagree? I'm not afraid of your flaws." You lightly stroke the side of her cheek before replying, "see if you stay of that mindset when you see them." Turning away, you continue walking down the street and towards the square. <<include "5.25Checl6">>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> She watches as $name walks on, not even sparing her a second glance to ensure she is following. Oddly, she had a feeling that this would be the result of their conversation, but she had hope, hope, and a touch of foolishness. Foolishness in the idea that $name's honesty and bravery would end with ?him telling her what she wished to hear. <<if $checlRo >=50>>She had hoped that even though $name seemed to be nervous at times, randomly saying something to elude to ?him having feelings for her, that it would still be easy to admit.<<else>>All the teasing and flirting, Checl wished to believe it would be easy for $name to admit ?his feelings.<</if>> She heard everything ?he said. But all she can see is a reflection of herself, staring back at her with all her flaws on display. Everything she believed to be lacking or missing entirely, exists right in front of her to remind her that others can see it, too. Wrapping her arms around herself, she follows after ?him, squeezing her eyes closed to hamper the tears that wish to flee. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $tatNe0>>\ "I'll head out with Ne0. We have some things we need to take care of, right?" Ne0 nods eagerly. "Affirmative." After agreeing to meet up in the center once finished, you head out. "Alright," you sigh, pulling up a map and highlighting the mechanics nearby. "We have at least three locations nearby that may help us out. You still want to do this?" <<else>>\ "I'll head out with Ne0. Someone should keep an eye on it." Ne0 glances at you, blinking, but says nothing. After agreeing to meet up in the center once finished, you head out. "You wanted to check out the cultural spots, right?" It nods. "Any idea where you want to head first." It shakes its head, and you let out a low chuckle as you bring up your map and highlight the tourist spots. Frowning, you do away with the results. "I'm not an expert on this city, but I know enough about them to know the places you'll actually learn about those who live there. You in?" <</if>>\ "Yes." Nodding, the two of you head towards the first location. On the way, you receive nothing but attention. For the first time, that attention is not because of you but your companion. People stop and stare. Some even seem to take pictures, while others give you a wide berth. At most, you are only included to further the oddness of seeing a draqe. You suppose you can't truly judge any of them when your shock had nearly been identical to theirs. Gazing over at Ne0, it continues on as if entirely oblivious. <a data-passage="5.25Ne01"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Does it bother you?" Ne0 doesn't immediately reply, instead looking at you, and you suppose it's waiting for an explanation. You gesture to the crowd. "All the attention. The constant looks as if you're some kind of spectacle." Ne0 blinks, and though it doesn't answer you, you feel you receive your answer due to its actions alone. It looks at those surrounding it before turning back to you. "No." You hum in thought. "I suppose it's more of an emotional reaction than logical anyway." "Explain." "Well, most people constantly feel like they're being watched and judged. It's a bit self-centered, but it's one of those irrational thoughts where you always think someone is staring at you. It's worse when you're already feeling off about your appearance." "Bothers $name?" You frown. [[Lie and say it doesn't.|5.25NLieNo]] [[Be honest and say it does.|5.25NHonestYes]] [[Be honest and say it doesn't.|5.25NHonestNo]]
"It doesn't," you tell it, unsure if it will pick up on the lie. The truth is, it does. It has always bothered you due to your circumstances in this galaxy, made worse by the markings that now lie against your skin. Once you received them and joined the Dinami, what were once simple glances became stares. Most of them were filled with condescension or disgust. You have learned to ignore them and continue as if they are beneath you. But the truth is, each stare still causes you to cower on the inside. <<include "5.25Ne02">>
"It does," you tell it honestly. It has always bothered you due to your circumstances in this galaxy, made worse by the markings that now lie against your skin. Once you received them and joined the Dinami, what were once simple glances became stares. Most of them were filled with condescension or disgust. You have learned to ignore them and continue as if they are beneath you. But each stare still causes you to cower on the inside. <<include "5.25Ne02">>
You take a moment to think about it and shrug, "No. It doesn't." Once, it did. But the trarkran made it easier to ignore or get used to, you're not sure which. Now, you find yourself not having any time to worry about the thoughts of a random passerby. Why let them phase you? <<include "5.25Ne02">>
Ne0 stops, gazing around like it had done originally. It seems like it wishes to say something but never does. Instead, it continues on, and you follow behind. <<if $tatNe0>>\ The first mechanic turns you away regretfully. Having never done such designs on androids before, they're doubtful they even know where to start with essentially tattooing a draqe. The second building is far more appealing. The traffic, though busy, is not active enough for you to decide against looking around. "Excuse me," you say to someone wearing what you hope is a uniform; otherwise, they're just wearing mechanic gear for the heck of it. They turn, and you can feel your hope for this establishment dwindle. Sure enough, the terran glances from you to the draqe, but their gaze settles on you. It's a look that you have become so acclimated to that you're surprised you don't just automatically assume everyone wears it. "Can you or someone who works here put designs on androids?" You inquire, ignoring their probing stare. "What are you?" they question. "A paying customer." A wide and disgusted sneer appears as they point towards the door. "So a Geniser. How does your kind even get this far out? Take you and your metallic pet and get the fuck out of here before I call the authorities?" "And tell them what?" you question, "that you're the punchline to your own bad joke?" "Get out!" they snap in disugst, grabbing everyone else's attention. Your frown deepens, and though you spare the person one last glance, you do as they say. "Fucking spotted whelp," you hear them mumble as the doors part and then close behind you. You're aware of Ne0's gaze, and though you wish to ignore it, you find the strength to glance at them. "Upset?" [[“No, more like disappointed.”|5.25NDisappointed][$approach +=5; $ne0 +=5]] [[“They'll get theirs later, trust me.”|5.25NRevenge][$approach -=5; $ne0 +=5]] [[“No. Come on.”|5.25NComeOn][$approach +=5; $neo -=5]] [[“I'm leaving a review.”|5.25NReview][$approach -=5; $neo -=5]] <<else>>\ Your first stop is a nearby park that tries to incorporate some greenery, but it seems that even the landscapers have decided to quit. Its barren appearance makes it easy to see that its primary purpose is to give people an easily accessible place to walk, play, and socialize. Nothing more. Despite that, the area is crowded with families and the occasional jogging group. The two of you stay to the side, hoping to simply observe instead of being the center of everyone's attention. "What do you think?" you question after growing bored with people watching. You used to love the act; maybe you still do, but this crowd is boring. It's as if their lives are on display for you to see, and not one of them has any skeletons hiding in their closets. "Aesthetically unappealing." You snort, "what is pleasing to your eye then?" Ne0 frowns as if you had just asked a question that holds no answer. "Answer unavailable." "Wait, really? You can say this is ugly, which I agree. But still, you can't tell me what you find appealing?" "Odd," it admits. "Memory inadequate." "Do you remember the appearance of your home?" It shakes its head. "Problem?" "What do you mean?" "Lack of memory. Problem?" "Well, that depends on you." Although Ne0 doesn't have any facial expressions, it looks like it's trying with all of its might to figure out what it may feel. [[Stop and change the conversation.|5.25NChangeConvo][$neo -=5]] [[Try and help it.|5.25NTryHelp][$neo +=5]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> "No, more like disappointed. Years later and my people are still fighting amongst each other when we have much bigger issues." "Solution?" "If you're asking if there is a solution, then no. That's the thing about creatures with emotions. It always comes down to pride, envy, and the like. There's no solution for something like this when the best you can say is 'because I feel this way.'" Ne0's gaze narrows as it looks over itself, catching your attention. "Both … of us, aberrant?" "Yea. Yea, we are." This conversation is starting to hit on topics you'd much rather forget, so you bring up your wrist terminal. "Want to try for the last one?" "Another day." You won't disagree. It'll probably be better to do some research and inquire about this sort of thing anyway. You both walk towards the agreed-upon location but take your time. Ne0 asks you questions about the people and the city itself, and though you cannot answer everything, you do your best. Hopefully, it enjoyed its time. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "They'll get what's owed to them later, trust me." "Explain." You're not sure you should openly talk about the actions swishing in your brain, but you doubt Ne0 will run to your superiors and tell them anything. "I'm going to come by later when they're closed and give the building a … makeover, shall we say." Ne0 nods. "Joining." "Whoa, no need," you chuckle, "what I'm going to do isn't exactly going to win you a merit badge." Again, Ne0 nods. "Joining." You find yourself staring at it for a bit longer before agreeing. You hadn't planned on getting a partner in crime, but you'd be hard-pressed to deny the help of a draqe. "Then we'll meet up later and give them a big thank you for their services," you sneer. You bring up your wrist terminal and glance at the location of the third mechanic. "Want to try for the last one?" "Another day." You won't disagree. It'll probably be better to do some research and inquire about this sort of thing anyway. You both walk towards the agreed-upon location but take your time. Ne0 asks you questions about the people and the city itself, and though you cannot answer everything, you do your best. Hopefully, it enjoyed its time. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> "No," you answer, taking one last look at the place before walking off, "come on." This won't be the last place you'll come across that will deny you services because of trivial things. Nor will they be the last person who judges you immediately because of your appearance and their assumption of your place of origin. You are proud of where you come from, and that's that. As you walk, you bring up your wrist terminal and glance at the location of the third mechanic. "Want to try for the last one?" "Another day." You won't disagree. It'll probably be better to do some research and inquire about this sort of thing anyway. You both walk towards the agreed-upon location but take your time. Ne0 asks you questions about the people and the city itself, and though you cannot answer everything, you do your best. Hopefully, it enjoyed its time. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "Saying I'm upset just doesn't feel like the right word," you tell it as you bring up your terminal and begin to type something in. "I'm just going to write an informative review about why no one should come here. Do you remember if that mechanic was wearing a name tag?" Ne0 shakes its head, and though you're not exactly thrilled that you won't be able to add a name, you continue on. "A review?" Ne0 asks, and you nod as you continue to type. "Basically letting others know whether this place is good to visit or if they should stay away. There's a rating system and a few questions you'll answer before saying why. May or may not hurt their business." Once you're done, you shift the terminal's window to look at your map, glancing at the location of the third mechanic. "Want to try for the last one?" "Another day." You won't disagree. It'll probably be better to do some research and inquire about this sort of thing anyway. You both walk towards the agreed-upon location but take your time. Ne0 asks you questions about the people and the city itself, and though you cannot answer everything, you do your best. Hopefully, it enjoyed its time. <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's fine, don't worry about it. Maybe we should find the main shopping district or if this place has a mall." "Mall?" "A building dedicated to nothing but shopping. It has hundreds of stores for you to go to. Probably shouldn't buy anything, though. We can just walk around." Ne0 nods, and you both head away from the park and towards your next destination. At the time, the idea had seemed appealing, but hardly through the door, you realize that the constant staring and pointing will get old fast. Cutting it short, you decide simply to head to the square and meet back up with <<if $cp>>the others<<else>>Zihr.<</if>> <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Okay, first stop. You somehow are managing to look constipated. What would you add if you could to make it better?" "Options limited." You frown, not knowing how to help it out. The thought of losing all your thoughts simply due to something so small and out of your control. You had already lost your home and your family. The only thing you have left are your memories, but even that, Ne0 has lost. You shake your head, snorting softly. "Do you have the ability to miss any of what you had?" "No," it answers, the answer you predicted. "But, realization." You nod, giving your surroundings one last look before motioning for Ne0 to come along. There's nothing exciting here, much to both of your discontentment. You head towards the square to meet back up with <<if $cp>>the others<<else>>Zihr.<</if>> <a data-passage="5.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You go ahead and do what you wish. Meet back up at the square," you tell them, taking a few steps away, "I'm going to go off on my own." "And do what?" Zihr asks. He doesn't say it with an attitude, simply curious about your plan. And yet, you don't answer him, already walking away. The city welcomes you just like any other, excited to show another curious visitor what it offers while instilling whatever lessons it wishes to teach. In the Dinami, you never had much chance to venture into the cities you found yourself in. There was always a bit of time between eliminating a target and being picked up, but most of that time was spent resting at the nearest safe house. Your superiors had a sadistic tendency of giving you assignments one after the other. When you were still fresh, you believed it was due to your abilities and their belief that if anyone could do it, you could. After the first year and listening to others, you learned that they were a fan of tests. They revel in the opportunities to remind their conscripts what the fear of death can do to an individual. It was one of their first lessons, and besides the ones warning you against trust, it was the one you kept closest. Always be prepared. "Tebriri," you say underneath your voice, "what lessons do you have to offer?" It's odd to think that you've never been here despite how long you've been on Crion. A little over a year and the vast majority of that time is all due to foolishness on your part. Dinami-wise, you should have only been here for a few weeks. After dropping off the package, all Dinami members would wait at the safe house you visited to wait out their time. Obviously, that didn't happen. Ridding yourself of such thoughts, you observe the city's culture. It's not too different from the others you visited, but there are still a few contrasts. One is that those here aren't in much of a hurry. The technology and distractions are not the same. The sleekness that comes with cities persists, but not on the scale as others. Two is that it's nowhere as diverse as the cities you have visited beforehand. Diversity takes on such a wondrous meaning when it is expanded to species outside that of terran. On your planet, diversity refers to such terms as gender, race, and orientation. And though the word kept its meaning, it seemed to diminish in importance after World War 3. The things that made a being diverse no longer seemed as important compared to what planet they hailed from. It only became momentous again when you and every terran, no matter your origins, learned that hundreds of other species existed. It's funny that not even that could reunite a species divided from within. In fact, the separation became even more apparent and dangerous. "Should've traveled with someone," you sigh, yet again shooing your thoughts away. Being alone is better, and yet it always leads to heavy thinking. And thinking isn't always the best course. You attempt to focus on your surroundings for the third time. [[Focus on the buildings.|5.25AloneBuildings]] [[Focus on traffic.|5.25AloneTraffic]]
You look at the infrastructure, which is not quite as impressive as the larger cities but nevertheless something to marvel at. Origin planets have always been more interesting, though. Their particular architecture mirrors those who have inhabited the planet for centuries. Planets like Crion were found later. If they did have a native species, the native species weren't advanced enough to stand up to outside forces, and thus, generic cities such as this are erected. The predominant building is the sleek metallic ones that tower higher than the skyscrapers back home. And, now that you look around, you find hardly any buildings here that differ. The other sectors simply become less modernized and far more square than rectangular. When you're done gazing around, you determine it's time to return to the others and head to the agreed-upon place. Along the way, you note some interesting areas you'll want to revisit when you get the chance. <<include "5.26">>
One thing that has always grabbed your attention is the different kinds of transportation. Some places have high-speed kinetic rails, while others maintain heavy sky traffic lanes, and some still seem to rely on primitive roads. This is one such place. Pulse roads are constructed above you; even higher than that, you can see the hovering lights of the sky lanes. The cars here are all average, especially for a planet that holds a significant city. But that is probably due to it being disregarded by most, thought about last, if at all. Most non-native planets see this kind of treatment, with only a handful being of any importance due to beauty, location, and resources. When you're done gazing around, you determine it's time to return to the others and head to the agreed-upon place. Along the way, you note some interesting areas you'll want to revisit when you get the chance. <<include "5.26">>
When all of you regather in the square, you quickly stop at the place that Sin told you will be supplying $hound's food. You question where they get their meat, prepare it, and the like. Overly pleased with how they do everything and even more about the hefty discount they will offer you, thanks to Sin, you leave and head back to the facility. The delivery is waiting at the front, and after signing, you head towards the elevator when you see the commander in question. "You guys head up," you tell them, already approaching the shaph. The klyc that has been speaking to them turns their attention to you, giving you an unhurried once over. "So this is the Marked Terran?" "Marked Terran?" you question, peering over at Sin, who has maintained a calm composure until your eyes land on them. "Many believe that $name is not your real name and have taken to using the moniker." [[“Many have nothing better to do.”|5.26NothingBetterToDo][$humor -=3]] [[“I'm not skilled enough to remember a fake one.”|5.26FakeName][$humor +=3]] [[“I don't care.”|5.26IDC]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> Aware that your comment will undoubtedly anger the klyc, you say, "ah, so many have nothing better to do. Not enough work, I guess." "Remember your place," the klyc sneers, its eyes widening and giving it a maddening look, "especially since many of us are so eager to teach it to you." You gladly accept the challenge, but Sin disapproves, snapping at the klyc while throwing you a warning glare. "It seems you both have forgotten your places." "No," the klyc blinks, "my apologies, Commander Sin." Their lack of apology towards you doesn't escape your notice, nor does it elude Sin's, who does nothing more than watch them retreat with amusement. <<include "5.27">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> You snort. "Trust me, I'm not skilled enough to remember a fake one." The klyc regards you with a look of distrust. "I think you are." Turning to Sin, they blink and dismiss themselves. <<include "5.27">>
You spare the klyc one last glance before shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't really care." Sin grins, but the klyc looks like they wish to say a few things in return. Whether Sin's presence dissuades them or something else, they refrain and simply dismiss themselves. <<include "5.27">>
"You will have to get used to that," Sin tells you, watching the retreating figure of the hunter. "Even worse probably." "I //am// used to it. But that doesn't mean I have to play nice when they find themselves brave enough to say it to my face." "You may want to rethink that. Many are watching you, curious to figure out who the mysterious terran is. They'll goad you in subtle ways. Some without the intention of causing you problems, just curious to see how you will react." "I'm not interested in being someone's experiment again," you growl, only biting your tongue when you notice the subtle change on Sin's face. The only thing you can do is continue to act as if that slip is purposeful. As well as remember to have your guard up around Sin. This shaph will be a problem. You are finding it far to easy to slip and let closely held secrets go. Why? You're still unsure. "Tell me," you start, lowering your voice as if there are others nearby. "If I didn't have these markings, would anyone even care who I was?" Sin looks at you in bewilderment. "Yes. Do you forget that you have a blank record, yet your scores are higher than most of our senior hunters?" You did, actually. There are moments when your anger over your markings blinds you to other oddities following you. Yet ... are those oddities not just a product of those markings? Someone else may be able to separate them through ignorance, but not you. For a moment, you existed in a world where Sin's words managed to warm you. A world where your accomplishments and failures were tied to who you were and not //what// you were. But your own mind quickly corrected such a concern. <a data-passage="5.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They shake their head. "The Commanders are waiting for you to screw up so they can chide me on my foolishness, and the hunters are waiting to get rid of competition." "Your foolishness?" Sin nods. "I'm quite disciplined. I do what I am told, go where they tell me, and stay quiet unless asked a direct question. I rarely care for the machinations of others trying to improve their rank. The first time I stuck my neck out was for you." They regard you with a quick look, glancing away before you can try and figure out what they may be thinking. "Makes you vouching for me even odder." "Shaphs listen to their //syaks// whenever it wish to guide us. When your presence began to be disputed, mine told me to speak up. I still can't tell you why. Perhaps I'm not supposed to know. But here we are." "Syaks?" "The root that connected us to our pod. When we sprout, it's broken. A part of it stays with the pod to be decomposed back into the soil, and the other remains with us. When interesting choices are presented, it will sometimes awaken and push us towards one choice over the other. More metaphorical than physical nowadays." [[“How much does your word weigh?”|5.28Weigh]] <<if $flirt_sin>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“So your syaks is interested in me?”|5.28Syaks][$sinRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“So your syaks is interested in me?”|5.28Syaks][$sinRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Regretting it yet?”|5.28Regret]]
"Everyone believed failing me was better?" They nod. "Either that or they didn't answer out of not knowing." "Then how much does what you say weigh if all you had to do was speak up for me?" "Enough to get you here." You frown at the answer, noticing a hint of humor in their eyes. They open the door to the mess hall and turn back to see if you're coming. <<include "5.29">>
You smirk. "That's a line if I ever heard one." For a minute, you forget that Sin is your superior, a realization that comes to you only after the words are out and Sin chuckles. "Should I use it more often?" "Yes," you laugh. "Though it sounds pretty romantic." "Then I believe it's serving its purpose," they smile. And as if to further prove their words, they open the door to the mess hall for you and wink. Did ... did Sin just ... you shake the thought from your mind. That is not a problem you wish to add on top of everything else, especially when it means you'll have to consider your own thoughts regarding it. <<include "5.29">>
"Regretting that decision yet?" Sin studies you momentarily before humming, "I haven't decided yet. Though it seems you already know it." "I just know the dangers of putting one's neck on the line for someone you don't know." You exhale tiredly. "It hardly ever ends well." "There is a first time for everything." "You guys have that phrase too?" "No. But I have always found myself interested in other culture's sayings. How many of them can be empathized with, and what simply sounds odd." They open the door to the mess hall and turn back to see if you're coming. <<include "5.29">>
"No, it's fine," you tell them, I came over to say thanks for your help in this." You gesture to the food that you're still carting around. "And was pulled into something else entirely," they smile. You take note of just how friendly that smile is. Similar to your first impressions of their voice, their smile is another warmth factor. If you had a less cynical mind, that thought would end there. Instead, it goes further, and you wonder how guarded you must be against someone like this. "You should get some sleep," Sin suggests. "Tomorrow, you'll be choosing your class. I have a good guess what you will choose, try and prove me right." "Most say try and prove me wrong, or nothing at all." "Proving me wrong is perhaps detrimental to your health," Sin laughs, winking before leaving you and entering the mess. Turning, you head to your room, ready to act on Sin's recommendation. After taking a shower, feeding $hound, and then making a list of what else you'll need for comfort, you lie down. <a data-passage="5.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Like Sin said, at midday, you receive a message from Vittorio telling you to come down to the training area. Making sure $hound is comfortable and fed, you go. You'll have to take him out later or tomorrow. Any more time stuffed in the small room, he'll grow destructive. Alone, you walk to the elevator and ride it down to the appropriate level, leaving it to see that there are a few others in the room. Two of the groups you recognize as other initiates. Even more, you recognize the raza currently standing near the fighting ring, excitedly speaking to another. It was the same raza you fought during the trials. You'd like to say that you've been forgotten, but the look that crosses his face when he sees you tells you that you possess no such luck. You walk over to your group, spotting Handler Vittorio off to the side and speaking to another. <a data-passage="5.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"How did you already get your name up there?" Zihr questions. You lazily glance at the leaderboards before gazing back at the match a few feet away. You watch both of their forms, taking note of their strengths and weaknesses, mentally compartmentalizing what information may be helpful and what could be thrown away. "I came by the other night to let off some steam. I didn't know about the boards until Sin said something." <<if $cp>>\ "What does that mean?" Checl questions. "Let off steam? Did my translator translate that correctly?" "It means to calm down. Relieve stress." She nods in thanks, looking quite pleased. <<else>>\ "What does that even mean?" he asks. "It means I wanted to relieve stress, and I did." <</if>>\ "Of course you did," Zihr sighs. "Would you just say what's on your mind? Trying to decide if you're in a mood or not gives me a headache." Zihr glances away, ending the conversation there and irking you further. Perhaps you should also start saying cryptic and irrelevant things; see how fast he gets agitated. <a data-passage="5.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Team Singularity," Vittorio shouts, his eyes on you, "come." You enter the room and immediately begin analyzing their vast assortment of guns. "Team Singularity?" Zihr questions. "It's a work in progress," Vittorio admits with a shrug. "But you're by far the oddest team I've seen. I don't think I need to explain why." He doesn't. <<if $cp>>A zeach with absolutely no combat prowess, passing the trials by sheer luck. <</if>>An aberrant draqe and a terran with odd markings. The caste-less raza is probably the only normal leaning factor, and even that still stands upon grounds of unfamiliarity. "A lot are interested in seeing what you do in the field. You'll probably receive a bounty sooner than most. But let's slow down." Vittorio gestures to the room. "This is the armory. You won't really be seeing this room that much in the beginning. Later, you can start switching your guns until you're pleased, but right now, you'll all get the standard for whatever class you choose." You lazily raise a hand. "What are the rules on acquiring guns not regulated by the Nightwalkers?" Vittorio narrows his gaze but answers in an even tone. "It's not allowed. You risk expulsion if found out." You hum in reply. You suppose you'll see what they have to offer before making a decision on that. "There are three different armors you can choose and five different weapon types. The catch is that they correspond with a class. Under this setup, we found that it helps teams and hunters narrow their skills, improve on what they're good at, and help with monitoring resources. In team setups, it's best for you to decide who will supply what class before just jumping in first. You've all been given recommendations by your evaluators during the test. I would advise keeping to that unless another scored a higher mark. In case you forgot, I do happen to have everyone's marks." As Vittorio says this, his eyes rise to meet yours before flickering back to the others. "I'll help you if you need a reminder." So, either he doesn't have your scores because you didn't receive any, or your scores earned the look you received. Either is highly likely, and so you remain quiet. <a data-passage="5.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What are the classes?" Zihr questions. "Engineer, sniper, hunter, and specialist. Sniper is pretty obvious, right?" He waits to see if anyone will disagree and, upon receiving blank looks, nods and continues. "Specialists are those you throw out in front. They're the center of attention; some teams find themselves with two of these. A lot of solo hunters choose this class. Hunters, on the other hand, stay reasonably away and try to remain out of the fighting until the very end. Hunters need to be quick and sure. You're there to go after any runners or take out those already injured." <<if $cp>>\ "There's a lot of fighting then?" Checl asks, though you feel like it's a rhetorical question, especially since she's gazing at the ground when she asks it. "Not tons, but I've seen my share of auvvrak or animal bounties. You need to be ready." <</if>>\ "Last is your engineers. They provide support with drones and other machines but sometimes will see as much fighting as specialists." Clapping, Vittorio shifts. "So, you guys have an idea of what you want? Remember, I do have your scores." You have a decent idea of everyone's strengths and weaknesses, enough to probably help assign everyone a class to speed this up. [[Assign the classes yourself.|5.32AssignYourself]] [[Ask Vittorio for his thoughts.|5.32VittorioThoughts]] [[Just sit back and listen.|5.32SitBackListen]]
Sighing, you straighten up and point a finger at Ne0. "Engineer." Your gaze then moves to <<if $cp>>Checl and then Zihr. "Hunter and specialist, with Zihr probably being suitable for both."<<else>>Zihr. "And you'd probably work either as a specialist or a hunter."<</if>> "And who made you the expert?" Zihr scoffs. "No," Vittorio interjects, "?he<<verb "'s" "'re">> right. <<if $cp>>Even down to the note for you, Zihr. I have you leaning towards one or the other as well. Hunter may be better."<<else>>The only slight difference is that my notes say that Zihr can also lean hunter."<</if>> <<if $cp>>\ "I can see it," you admit. "But I don't see the point in having two hunters when the team doesn't have a specialist." "Then what about you?" Checl inquires. "You're used to all of this. Wouldn't you make the best specialist?" <<else>>\ "What were his sniper marks?" you ask Vittorio, and he gazes down to find them. "Decent, but if one of you is more comfortable with a sniper, then I'd go with that. Or just not have one." "I'm right here!" Zihr shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "And then what about you? Are you going to be our specialist?" There's an undertone of what may be envy there, telling you that Zihr may have had his eyes on such class. <</if>>\ [[“Flattered, but no.”|5.32Flattered]] [[“Never been the type.”|5.32NeverTheType]] <<if $cp>>[[“I do make the best specialist.”|5.32Whelp]]<<else>>[[“Might as well.”|5.32Whelp]]<</if>>
"Flattered, but no. The requirements just don't match my style." <<include "5.32AssignYourself1">>
"Never really been the type. The requirements just don't match my style." <<include "5.32AssignYourself1">>
<<if $cp>>"You may be right, I probably would."<<else>>"Out of all of us, I make the best specialist, so I might as well."<</if>> Your answer carries a hint of doubt that you don't care to hide. Though you are probably the best fit, that doesn't mean you //are// the best due to it not really matching your style. <<include "5.32AssignYourself1">>
Technically, none of them really match your style, but that's due to the team atmosphere. You're used to playing all four roles when needed, with no distractions or other lives to worry about. Now, you have <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>> other people to keep an eye on while also doing your job. Dinami training never cared much for the addition of others. Assassins and hit-people are taught to take care of competitors before they can become a nuisance. It was common to go on an assignment already given to three or so others. As long as the target was taken care of, there were no actual punishments. Instead, a hatred for the person who got to them first typically arose, making them a target. You've been that target a couple of times, and the lessons they taught have become ingrained. So much that you worry just how you will do this. You hadn't thought about the team dynamic until now, and that is proving to be a grim oversight. <<include "5.33">>
"You said you have all of our evaluations, what do you think?" you ask Vittorio. "Honestly?" You nod. <<include "5.33">>
You have a pretty good idea what class is right for everyone but you'd rather see which ones //they// think is most appealing. <<if $cp>>\ "The real challenge will be assigning Checl a class," Zihr starts, gaining an irate look from the zeach. "Wouldn't I just be a hunter?" "Which is more important?" Zihr asks, turning to Vittorio, "hunter or sniper." "Hey!" Checl shouts, waving her hand in front of his face, "I'm right here. Can you stop highlighting the fact that I'm the weak link? I already know that!" "That's not what I'm doing here," he sighs, trying to reassure her, but she swipes his hand away. "No. You're trying to be a smart ass, and it's not a good look." "Calmati," Vittorio urges, "this may be premature." He looks at you. <<else>>\ "Engineer," Ne0 states, and no one decided to disagree. Out of everyone, it needed the least amount of conversation for its class. Vittorio hums, "this may be premature." He looks at you. <</if>>\ <<include "5.33">>
"Your marks are all over the place," Vittorio sighs, his eyes on the paper in front of him. You ignore the exasperated look that Zihr doesn't bother to hide. "I think the best course is for you to choose yours first, and we go from there." //It is time to choose your class. You will not be able to change it later. <<message 'Click here for more info pertaining to class restrictions and what they affect.//'>>\ * Some classes may not show depending on your current skills. * Your class will affect what weapons and armor are available to you. * Your marking may give a bonus far more helpful to one class than the other. * Lastly, keep in mind the classes already discussed for your team. If a class is not filled, it can affect how a hunt may play out. To see the breakdown go to [[StatGuide]].// <</message>>\ [[Specialist.|5.33Specialist][$class to "specialist"]] [[Sniper.|5.33Sniper][$class to "sniper"; $armor_type to "light"]] <<if $markings is "blue" or $agility >=10>>[[Hunter.|5.33Hunter][$class to "hunter"]]<<else>>Hunter Class Not Selectable<</if>> <<if $tech >=10>>[[Engineer.|5.33Engineer][$class to "engineer"; $armor_type to "medium"]]<<else>>Engineer Class Not Selectable<</if>>
"Assign me specialist." Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zihr's ear twitch and mentally prepare for whatever he may or may not say. He looks at Vittorio. "Do two of us need to be specialists?" "Most teams either have two hunters or two specialists. There's nothing wrong with it," he assures. Zihr's eyes flicker to you, but he seems content with the information given to stay silent. "So then, I assume Zihr and $name will be specialists. And Ne0, will you be an engineer?" "Sufficient," the draqe replies. <<if $cp>>\ "And Checl?" She nervously glances from Vittorio to you and Zihr, obviously wishing for guidance. "The only classes unfilled are snipers and hunters, and I have a feeling hunter is more helpful." Zihr nods in agreement. "A better pairing for Checl anyway with her agility. She won't have to be directly in the line of fire either." He gazes at her. "How's your eyesight?" "Great," she exclaims. Her mood seems to have picked up since being given a role. <</if>>\ "Alright," Vittorio voices, "we have one more matter to attend to then. A leader is needed." <a data-passage="5.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I'll be the sniper." "So then, I assume Ne0, you will be an engineer?" "Sufficient," the draqe replies. "Zihr?" "A specialist." <<if $cp>>\ "And Checl?" She nervously glances from Vittorio to you and Zihr, obviously wishing for guidance. "The only class unfilled is the hunter." Zihr nods in agreement. "A better pairing for Checl anyway with her agility. She won't have to be directly in the line of fire either." He gazes at her. "How's your eyesight?" "Great," she exclaims. Her mood seems to have picked up since being given a role. <</if>>\ "Alright," Vittorio voices, "we have one more matter to attend to then. A leader is needed." <a data-passage="5.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I like the sound of hunter." "So then, I assume Ne0, you will be an engineer?" "Sufficient," the draqe replies. "Zihr?" "A specialist." <<if $cp>>\ "And Checl?" She nervously glances from Vittorio to you and Zihr, obviously wishing for guidance. "The only class unfilled is sniper." Zihr shakes his head. "Not saying that Checl would suck, but she's never had to hold a gun in her life. That position would be too demanding. A better pairing would be hunter, thanks to her agility. She won't have to be directly in the line of fire either." He gazes at her. "How's your eyesight?" "Great," she exclaims. Her mood seems to have picked up since being given a role. <</if>>\ "Alright," Vittorio voices, "we have one more matter to attend to then. A leader is needed." <a data-passage="5.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Will two engineers be wise?" "It's not, but due to your skill set, $name, I don't think it will be much of a problem. You'll be able to truly test it out during scrimmages." You nod. "I assume you are fine with this, Ne0?" "Sufficient," the draqe replies. "Zihr?" "A specialist." <<if $cp>>\ "And Checl?" She nervously glances from Vittorio to you and Zihr, obviously wishing for guidance. "The only classes unfilled are snipers and hunters, and I have a feeling hunters are more helpful." Zihr nods in agreement. "A better pairing for Checl anyway with her agility. She won't have to be directly in the line of fire either." He gazes at her. "How's your eyesight?" "Great," she exclaims. Her mood seems to have picked up since being given a role. <</if>>\ "Alright," Vittorio voices, "we have one more matter to attend to then. A leader is needed." <a data-passage="5.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You stiffen. Of course, Zihr has his pride, but even he should understand that the smartest choice is you. But at the same time, that's the problem. You've never been much of a leader, not with your background. Whether you like it or not, you were trained to be a loner. //Trust no one but your superiors. Always prepare for a stab in the back.// The Dinami bled those words into your very skin. They defined you more than you may wish to admit. And though you may be able to work with others occasionally, long-term just doesn't seem viable. [[Volunteer yourself.|5.34Moran][$leader to "Moran"; $zihr -=15]] [[Volunteer Zihr.|5.34Zihr][$leader to "Zihr"; $zihr +=15]] [[Remain silent and see how the others vote.|5.34Vote][$leader to "Moran"]]
"I'll just go ahead and volunteer myself." <<if $cp>>"I agree," Checl adds and Ne0 follows her example.<<else>>"Agreed," Ne0 comments.<</if>> Your gazes settle on Zihr, who rolls his eyes. "Does it matter what I vote? <<if $cp>>You have the majority.<<else>>Ne0 won't change its vote so you have majority.<</if>>" "Are you telling me you wanted the position?" He seems to think about something before shaking his head, wearing a smile that doesn't put you at ease. Zihr may like to think he's sneaky, but he's easy to read, and right now, you know he's thinking up something he believes is crafty. Knowing him, he'll use this to blame you for more things and point out your inabilities. Flaws you already know you possess. You suppose it'll be fun to see what he observes. <a data-passage="5.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I volunteer, Zihr," you proclaim, unsurprised when everyone, save for Ne0, offers you a shocked look. "What game are you playing?" Zihr growls. "No game. I just think you'll do a far better job than me." Zihr's eyes narrow, attempting to figure out what you will not tell him. <<if hasVisited("1.30CheclBait")>>You release an impatient sigh. "Do you remember how I used Checl as bait? Do you really think I'm the best for the job?<<elseif $ticketforone>>You release an impatient sigh. "I literally left you and Checl at the wall. I think it's clear that I'm not leader material."<<else>>You roll your eyes at the probing glance.<</if>> <<if $cp>>Checl doesn't seem persuaded, but nevertheless, she nods towards Zihr.<</if>> Ne0 shakes its head. "Illogical. $name best choice." "Ah, Ne0," you smirk, placing your hand on its shoulder. "If you knew what I knew, then you would disagree." "Erroneous argument. Personal feelings irrelevant." You stop attempting to persuade it. Zihr already has the majority, and though Vittorio seems to want to argue as well, he nods. <a data-passage="5.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You may be wrong. They may choose Zihr, knowing that though you may be the smartest choice, you are not the wisest. <<if $ticketforone>>There's no way <<if $cp>>the two of them<<else>>Zihr<</if>> forgot what you did to them at the walls of Taouron. The deed or the words said to explain your actions.<</if>> "$name preferred," Ne0 elects. <<if $cp>>\ <<if $ticketforone>>\ "I disagree," Checl voices, glancing over at Ne0, who directs its attention to her. "You don't know $name like the two of us. Zihr is a better option." She avoids your gaze as she says this, unsurprising to you. "Experience preferred." "Zihr?" He shrugs at her questioning look, "I agree with you. You know I do. But Ne0 has a point too. I don't know anything about all of …" he pauses and motions to your surroundings, "this. $name does." You're shocked he gave up the role that fast but maybe you're just not giving him enough credit. It's not like he's not going to still point out all the things he believes you're doing wrong. <<else>>\ "I agree," Checl seconds. All eyes land on Zihr, who simply rolls his eyes. "Does it matter what I vote? You have the majority." "Are you telling me you wanted the position?" He seems to think about something before shaking his head, wearing a smile that doesn't put you at ease. Zihr may like to think he's sneaky, but he's easy to read, and right now, you know he's thinking up something he believes is crafty. Knowing him, he'll use this to blame you for more things and point out your inabilities. Flaws you already know you possess. You suppose it'll be fun to see what he observes. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ Your gazes settle on Zihr, who rolls his eyes. "Does it matter what I vote? Ne0 won't change its vote so you have majority." "I could vote for you," you point out but Zihr just rolls his eyes for a second time. "$name is the leader, can we move on?" <</if>>\ <a data-passage="5.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, then. $leader, congratulations," Vittorio states. "Tomorrow is your last free day. Many continue exploring, contacting family, and wrapping up outside affairs. You may do all of those things, or you may choose to use the facilities. You'll have plenty of time for that, but as always, it's up to you." <<if hasVisited("5.35Q1")>>“When do we receive our first hunt?”<<else>>[[“When do we receive our first hunt?”|5.35Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q2")>>“Do you have mandatory training?”<<else>>[[“Do you have mandatory training?”|5.35Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q3")>>“What is this team evaluation?”<<else>>[[“What is this team evaluation?”|5.35Q3]]<</if>>
"When will we receive our first hunt?" "After your team evaluation. Every hunter, solo or team, has an evaluation to ensure they're ready for a hunt. The Commander will decide, and if your skills are exemplary, you may receive one the very next day. It may be a while if they think you can use some practice or even if the right hunt just hasn't come in." "What do we do until then?" Zihr inquires. "You'll practice. Refine your skills and make sure you and your team are a cohesive unit." <<if hasVisited("5.35Q2")>>“Do you have mandatory training?”<<else>>[[“Do you have mandatory training?”|5.35Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q3")>>“What is this team evaluation?”<<else>>[[“What is this team evaluation?”|5.35Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q3")>>[[Go back to your room.|5.36]]<</if>>
"Is there mandatory training?" "Yes. You won't have to worry until after your evaluation. You won't ever receive training when a hunt is coming up, only on your off periods." <<if hasVisited("5.35Q1")>>“When do we receive our first hunt?”<<else>>[[“When do we receive our first hunt?”|5.35Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q3")>>“What is this team evaluation?”<<else>>[[“What is this team evaluation?”|5.35Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q3")>>[[Go back to your room.|5.36]]<</if>>
"You keep talking about a team evaluation. What is it?" "Before a hunter or their team is given a bounty, the evaluation takes place. It's a sort of scrimmage. It differs on the setup, but its purpose is the same: test your skills and functionality. As well as to see if the team or lone hunter can be given a hunt. We don't like sending unprepared hunters out to their deaths. Yours will be scheduled in one day from now. Take this seriously, as if it is an actual hunt. Get plenty of rest and eat a light breakfast. I'll send a message of the location when it's time." <<if hasVisited("5.35Q1")>>“When do we receive our first hunt?”<<else>>[[“When do we receive our first hunt?”|5.35Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("5.35Q2")>>“Do you have mandatory training?”<<else>>[[“Do you have mandatory training?”|5.35Q2]]<</if>> [[Go back to your room.|5.36]]
Vittorio leaves after that, and you don't care to linger either, though the rest of your team does. Once at your room, the door slides open, and you spot $hound in his new favorite spot. His tongue flicks through the air, recognizing your scent, but it's easy to tell he's in no rush to greet you. Going to his side, you pet him absentmindedly while gazing out the window. Sometimes, you wonder what any of this is for. Your goals, your past, your present, and your future. These markings that adorn your skin like some kind of twisted masterpiece. It bothers you that you don't have the slightest clue. The fear is that even when you get your most sought-out answers, you may still be confused. It's a reoccurring headache, only giving you a break when you finally uncover something, and then it returns. There are times when you feel like you're just running to run, claiming to be going forward when you're actually in reverse. But is that not needed to move on? You must revisit your past and those who remain there to finally progress. <a data-passage="5.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $checlRoPo >=2 and not hasVisited("5.25Checl")>>\ A knock pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance at it, leaving $hound's side. You open it, and Checl stands right there, her eyes widening in shock as if she had suspected you weren't inside or would answer. "Oh, hi." "Hi?" She fidgets, shaking her head feathers before playing with those on her arm. She glances at something further down the hall, but whatever it is doesn't keep her attention as she looks back at you. "Okay," she starts, breathing deeply, "I know you have your reasons and that … maybe you don't feel anything remotely. I know you said you don't trust anyone." "Checl," you interrupt, "what are you talking about right now?" She seems to grow even more timorous, clenching and then unclenching her hands. "I think it's obvious how I feel about you, but how you feel about me is really unclear. And I'm not talking about friendship-wise." She reaches forward and gently takes your hand. "I like you. So much. And I know you have your issues and problems with others, but … well, just promise you'll think about me." She squeezes your hand. "About us." [[“I do that already.”|5.37Already][$checlRo +=3]] [[“I can't.”|5.37Cant][$checlRo -=3]] [[Don't answer her.|5.37NoAnswer]] <<else>>\ You sit there, lost in thought. Your mind hops from one subject to another, never lingering long enough for you to dwell. Something you're thankful for since you just want to sleep. One last look out the window, and then you finally move to your bed, closing your eyes. <<if hasVisited("5.25NRevenge")>>\ When your eyes reopen, the sun has set, and night has started. You did not forget what you and Ne0 had planned earlier, giving a particular mechanic a glowing review for all to see. Getting out of bed and slipping into some inconspicuous clothes, you send Ne0 a message to meet you in the lobby. "Prepared?" Ne0 asks as it walks towards you. Stretching, you nod and motion for it to follow you outside, where the two of you hail a sky taxi. <a data-passage="5.38"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="Chapter Six"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png" alt="Chapter Six" style="float:center"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
You shake your head exhaustedly, "I do that enough already, Checl." You slip your hand from hers. "That's the problem. If you take up any more of my thoughts, I'll be forced to do something." A hopeful look crosses her face, and you find yourself wishing to keep the second half of this conversation to yourself. How often have you wanted to see her gaze at you like that? It fills you with hope that you find yourself unworthy of. But she isn't. She deserves someone who can care for her, like she cares for everyone around her. And the simple fact is, that's not you. Your fears and doubts will always trump her words and even her actions because it has proven the truth to you in the past. "You don't have to say anything more," she interjects, managing a shy smile. "Just … just don't leave me behind, okay?" Your mouth remains shut. She leaves almost as swiftly as she had appeared but leaves in her place questions and mixed thoughts. Where you go, she cannot follow. And even if there was the chance that she could, the distrust burning inside of you would rather see her abandoned. So soon after Tsering … the thought of accepting her makes you feel dimwitted, looking for a reason to hate yourself more. "Great," you grumble, scratching your temple. This is precisely what you need on your mind before going to sleep. You take one last look out the window, a pit forming in your stomach as you turn your back to the glass and close your eyes. <<if hasVisited("5.25NRevenge")>>\ When your eyes reopen, the sun has set, and night has started. You did not forget what you and Ne0 had planned earlier, giving a particular mechanic a glowing review for all to see. Getting out of bed and slipping into some inconspicuous clothes, you send Ne0 a message to meet you in the lobby. "Prepared?" Ne0 asks as it walks towards you. Stretching, you nod and motion for it to follow you outside, where the two of you hail a sky taxi. <a data-passage="5.38"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="Chapter Six"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png" alt="Chapter Six" style="float:center"/></a> <</if>>\
"I can't, Checl," you start, attempting to find the right words to convey your feelings on this. Do you like her? Yes. But it is never that simple. It is never that simple. "Don't," she interjects, managing a shy smile. "Just … just don't leave me behind, okay?" Your mouth remains shut. She leaves almost as swiftly as she had appeared but leaves in her place questions and mixed thoughts. Where you go, she cannot follow. And even if there was the chance that she could, the distrust burning inside of you would rather see her abandoned. So soon after Tsering … the thought of accepting her makes you feel dimwitted, looking for a reason to hate yourself more. "Great," you grumble, scratching your temple. This is precisely what you need on your mind before going to sleep. You take one last look out the window, a pit forming in your stomach as you turn your back to the window and close your eyes. <<if hasVisited("5.25NRevenge")>>\ When your eyes reopen, the sun has set, and night has started. You did not forget what you and Ne0 had planned earlier, giving a particular mechanic a glowing review for all to see. Getting out of bed and slipping into some inconspicuous clothes, you send Ne0 a message to meet you in the lobby. "Prepared?" Ne0 asks as it walks towards you. Stretching, you nod and motion for it to follow you outside, where the two of you hail a sky taxi. <a data-passage="5.38"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="Chapter Six"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png" alt="Chapter Six" style="float:center"/></a> <</if>>\
"You don't have to say anything," she interjects, managing a shy smile. "Just … just don't leave me behind, okay?" Your mouth remains shut. She leaves almost as swiftly as she had appeared but leaves in her place questions and mixed thoughts. Where you go, she cannot follow. And even if there was the chance that she could, the distrust burning inside of you would rather see her abandoned. So soon after Tsering … the thought of accepting her makes you feel dimwitted, looking for a reason to hate yourself more. "Great," you grumble, scratching your temple. This is precisely what you need on your mind before going to sleep. You take one last look out the window, a pit forming in your stomach as you turn your back to the window and close your eyes. <<if hasVisited("5.25NRevenge")>>\ When your eyes reopen, the sun has set, and night has started. You did not forget what you and Ne0 had planned earlier, giving a particular mechanic a glowing review for all to see. Getting out of bed and slipping into some inconspicuous clothes, you send Ne0 a message to meet you in the lobby. "Prepared?" Ne0 asks as it walks towards you. Stretching, you nod and motion for it to follow you outside, where the two of you hail a sky taxi. <a data-passage="5.38"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="Chapter Six"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png" alt="Chapter Six" style="float:center"/></a> <</if>>\
"Plan?" Ne0 asks, and you shrug. "I have the formations of a plan, but we'll figure something out once we get there. The important thing is that we fuck it all up." "Fuck. It. Up." Ne0 repeats, and with the mechanical dryness of its voice, it sounds more like a car that just learned to talk. Snorting, you nod. Upon reaching the area, you glance around. Thankfully, there are not tons of people out and about. Most seem to be shopkeepers who stay late and perform their last checks before heading home. "Is it possible for you to knock out any cameras in the immediate area?" Ne0 doesn't answer you; you automatically assume it's attempting to do what you ask. "Partial. Some remain functional." "How about the cameras in this building?" "Down." "That's all we can really ask for." You both enter, and you regain Ne0's attention. "I'll handle redecorating. You handle making parts of the wall prettier, okay?" Ne0 nods, and you leave its side. It's easy to figure out where to start, the tools. You start throwing them at glass and hide a few of the more important ones. You tip over carts and scratch up any stainless surfaces that you can find. There's a level of restraint you have to practice. You understand you have to make it seem more like a bunch of recreants had visited instead of all this being an act of revenge. So, while you kick at items until they form dents, break vials, and scatter liquids, you also have to remove some things that seem worth stealing. It reminds you of what you did once with Tsering and two other Dinami members with whom you had grown familiar. The target was a slow burn for one of the members, who needed help creating fear. It was a night of true debauchery. A night of relieving stress and laughing like mad people who have truly lost it. You recall running down the street, cackling and screaming at the top of your lungs. That night ... you felt invincible. You felt like you were back on the streets of Genesis, living out the years of a troubled youth who'll one day realize that everything they did was for attention and out of ignorance. <a data-passage="5.39"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your actions slow. That's enough. Hoping to rid your mind of the memory, you find Ne0 finishing up its part of the mission. Lovely, bold, and thin spiral lines run across the walls, caring nothing for what rests in their way. There's a story somewhere in all the tangled lines that intersect to form something much grander. "Oh, that is beautiful," you laugh as you go to stand right next to it. "I didn't know you guys had a creative edge." You cock your head to the side. "Is it a flower?" "Unsure," Ne0 answers, gazing from you to the intricate lines that it has drawn across the holo-screen. It stares for some time before abandoning the art. "Depart?" "Yes. Before someone ends up seeing us." Side by side, the two of you go. For a while, you simply walk the not-so-empty streets. You wish you had planted a camera to see what the employee's face would look like tomorrow. Sadly, acts like this see little in rewards such as that. You just have to be content with the knowledge that you did something. "Thank you," Ne0 mentions, and you glance at it. You're not sure why it's thanking you for vandalizing a shop, but you don't mind. "Don't mention it," you smirk. There's no screaming and running down the streets like hooligans, but this isn't so bad either. <a data-passage="Chapter Six"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png" alt="Chapter Six" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $ch4captured to false; $qa to 0; $round to 0; $zihrinjured to false>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2026_3.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. Naitene, keep an eye out for a varied group. There are too many slots that need filling up, and I have no intention of visiting those wretched stalls to pick one at a time. Also, make sure to grab a decently sized group. My husband is running out of subjects. Written by Baroness Devina and sent to Overseer Naitene's terminal."> <span class ="flashback">The domes are feats of architectural genius whose scope shirks you whenever you attempt to understand. You always imagined that the indoor part would be just as curved as the exterior lets on. But not exactly. The walls are curved, but they also have corners and straight walls. It is as if someone came in and began chipping away at random, but the end result proved that everything done had been pre-calculated. If the exterior material reminds you of crystal and diamond, then the inside was crystal-like and a shiny stone whose color seemed to alternate between an alabaster tone and light pewter. Wood did not seem to be one of their common materials, or whatever those trees they had were made out of. Instead, they seemed more prone to using this crystal, rock, and then a far more asperous component that looked odd but also fit in with the general aesthetic. There was a clear word to use here. Alien. Your attention shifts to your three tour guides. Their mouth moves, but yet again, you hear nothing they say as your attention shifts more to their general appearance and mannerisms. All of them Terran Genisers that seemed so far away from themselves that you're terrified of what that will mean for you. Their eyes are empty, and they hold no natural inflections that most people speak with. There is being tired, then there is being dead. Every time you remember that they are here, it causes you to shiver, and you once again place your attention on anything else.</span> <a data-passage="4FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"This is the living quarters for the dining u̥kti'mam." Hearing them pronounce the phrase is even more alien than hearing the trarkrans. They say it in a way that makes you believe you can repeat and learn it, but you shove that thought to the side, terrified of when that day comes. Entering, you look around at what you can only describe as barracks. The room is at least larger than the cell, its walls the color of slate, but still that crystalline material that causes it to slightly sparkle from different angles. What looks to be forty single-person beds are inserted into the side walls, twenty on each side, ten on the bottom and then ten above. The beds themselves have oval-shaped mattresses but there's no pillows or blankets. Approaching one, you find that it molds around your hands, slowly encompassing it until the entire thing is covered by whatever the substance is. It's odd but at least the material is warm and comfortable. "$name Moran." You stiffen at the sound of your name, your eyes flying to Dante and Camila's, whose names have not been called.</span> [[Ask if you can be moved.|4FBAskBeMoved]] <<if $dante_brave>>[[Beg to not be separated.|4FBBeg]]<<else>>[[Tell them it'll be okay.|4FBOkay]]<</if>>
<span class ="flashback">"Can I be moved to the room with my siblings?" They don't even act as if they hear you, continuing to speak before gesturing for the group to follow them and move on. Dante watches them go but doesn't budge.</span> <<if $dante_brave>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Come, we continue." "No!" you shout, "I want to be with mi familia!" They don't stop. They just keep walking; your cries are nothing more than background noise, if even that. "$name," Dante hisses, grabbing and wrapping his arms around you, shushing you in hopes that you'll grow calm. "It'll be okay." "But what if we can't visit? What if I never-" You cut yourself off, not wanting to think about that. Not wanting to imagine walking these halls and forgetting what your siblings' faces look like. Not wishing to turn into one of ''them''. "Come on," he murmurs, "don't break on me. I need you strong." "I'm scared," you tell him, and he nods. "Yo también," he chuckles nervously, and then leans in close to your ear. "But we have Camila. We gotta do it for Camila. We ''will'' do it for Camila." You nod. It's all you can do as the two of them walk away from you, leaving you standing there feeling like your heart is breaking like fragile eggshells.</span> <<else>>\ <span class ="flashback">You calmly turn to Dante, whose emotions war across his face at the news. Camila stares wide-eyed in confusion. "It'll be fine. We know which room I'm in; that's all we need to know. When we meet up again, you'll show me your rooms." Dante nods, though his wavering eyes tell you that he doesn't totally agree with you. He's not wrong. For all you know, there are entirely different areas and they may be on the other side of the land. "Dante," you bark, "listen to me. Okay? Try to get in the same room with Camila. Please." It takes him a few minutes of focus before he nods vigorously. "D'accord. Even if I have to beg and grovel. As soon as we can, we'll come back." You nod your thanks, glancing down at Camila. "What's happening?" she whispers, her eyes growing watery. "Nothing bad. This is my room, they're going to show you to yours." "But I want to sleep with you," she whines. "Maybe another day, okay? I need you to be good and listen to them. Okay, $camilaNN?" She wipes at her eyes. "I want Churro." "I'll get you another one as soon as I can." She's not satisfied, but Camila has never been a problem child. Always content with simple promises because she trusts others to fulfill them. You can think of nothing more to say, and they have already begun to move away, Camila waving goodbye in the most heartbreaking way you have experienced. You know this is not goodbye, so why does it feel like it?</span> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Wait!" you start, panicking as you glance from your siblings to the room and then to the senior terrans. "You're separating siblings? Family? I want to be with them." The one that had been speaking gazes at you, and you wince at how it seems like they don't even rightfully hear you. How much of them are still terran versus whatever these monsters made them to be? "Come, we continue." "No!" you shout, "I want to be with mi familia!" They don't stop. They just keep walking; your cries are nothing more than background noise, if even that. "$name," Dante hisses, grabbing you and wrapping his arms around you, shushing you in hopes that you'll grow calm. "It'll be okay." "But what if we can't visit? What if I never-" You cut yourself off, not wanting to think about that. Not wanting to imagine walking these halls and forgetting what your siblings' faces look like. Not wishing to turn into one of ''them''. "Come on," he murmurs, "don't break on me. I need you strong." "I'm scared," you tell him, and he nods. "Yo también," he chuckles nervously, and then leans in close to your ear. "But we have Camila. We gotta do it for Camila. We ''will'' do it for Camila." You nod. It's all you can do as the two of them walk away from you, leaving you standing there feeling like your heart is breaking like fragile eggshells.</span> <a data-passage="4FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You calmly turn to Dante, whose emotions war across his face at the news. Camila stares wide-eyed in confusion. "It'll be fine. We know which room I'm in; that's all we need to know. When we meet up again, you'll show me your rooms." Dante nods, though his wavering eyes tell you that he doesn't totally agree with you. "Dante," you bark, "listen to me. Okay? Try to get in the same room with Camila. Please." It takes him a few minutes of focus before he nods vigorously. "D'accord. Even if I have to beg and grovel. As soon as we can, we'll come back." You nod your thanks, glancing down at Camila. "What's happening?" she whispers, her eyes growing watery. "Nothing bad. This is my room, they're going to show you to yours." "But I want to sleep with you," she whines. "Maybe another day, okay? I need you to be good and listen to them. Okay, $camilaNN?" She wipes at her eyes. "I want Churro." "I'll get you another one as soon as I can." She's not satisfied, but Camila has never been a problem child. Always content with simple promises because she trusts others to fulfill them. You can think of nothing more to say, and they have already begun to move away, Camila waving goodbye in the most heartbreaking way you have experienced. You know this is not goodbye, so why does it feel like it?</span> <a data-passage="4FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Are those your siblings?" a senior terran questions upon approach. You didn't realize that one had stayed back, watching your interaction. They look like the others, dead eyes and skin that appears blistered over, far darker than what you surmise their normal skin tone would be. Strangely, you can't guess how old they are. They look like they may be in their thirties, but with all the things that may befall you here, it's entirely possible that they're younger. "Sí." A somber look provides their face with some much-needed emotion. "If you want to protect them, let them go." You back away in horror, the promise you all made in the cells echoing through your mind. "If you anger the masters, they'll use them against you. Sometimes, they just do it to prove a point." "Yours?" They nod. "I was taken with my mother and little sister. Mother didn't make it, and when I didn't stop crying about my mother's death, they took my sister and gave her to another house." A child in the far back whimpers, reciting a prayer in a language that you are not well-versed in. If you had to take a wild guess, it would be one of the East-Indian languages, perhaps Bengali? Your attention shifts back to the older terran who gazes at the sobbing child, guessing that they probably had family here as well. "A piece of advice for all of you," they start, speaking louder as they look at all of the new arrivals. "Disappear. Become … stone. You're attendant servants, you're expected to neither be seen nor heard. If you ever report to the line, you'll see things that no one should ever witness, and you're expected to let it happen. Be. Stone." The look that enters their eye tells you that they have doubts, doubts that you believe them and will do as you please. They shake their head, moving to catch up with the others. "You'll learn," you hear them mutter. "They always do. They always learn or they die."</span> [[Stop them.|4FBStopThem]] [[Let them go.|4FBLetThemGo]]
<span class ="flashback">Gulping, you take a few steps after them. "Wait." They pause. "Do you know what my brother and sister will be assigned?" "You don't want to know. It's better to live in ignorance here, especially with the younger ones." "They … they don't," you start, never finishing the sentence or the phrase. It's too much, images you refuse to picture or accept. This entire place will crumble under your hand if any harm comes to Camila. "No, no," they reassure, "at least not this house. Horror stories exist outside these domes, though. The Baroness and her daughters see the children as toys, and … sometimes toys break." "There has-" "Your brother," they continue, interrupting you and showing no care for the disruption. "If he's not put in the same job as you, then they'll place him on yard detail. They die the quickest."</span> [[“Can't you say anything positive?”|4FBAnythingPositive][$attitude +=5]] [[“I … see.”|4FBISee][$attitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Can't you say anything positive?" you scream at them. "Where is your anger?" They grin. "It died," they laugh. "It died right alongside my mother, and I wish it had died before that. You want good news when even getting here safely is bad. Nothing about this is good. If you believe in the Almighty, don't. Abandon him like he did us. If you don't, then there is your good news. You are already one step closer to complete and utter percipience." They turn and go; this time, you don't stop them.</span> <a data-passage="4.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"I …" The words leave you before you can mutter out the 'see' part of the sentence. So, there's a strong possibility that you'll never see your brother and sister again. That watching them walk away and disappear around the corner may be the last time you ever grace their face, hear their voice … How long could you be here before the news gets to you? A heavy hand settles on your shoulder, causing you to flinch and jerk away. The terran doesn't seem surprised. "It's for the best," they tell you. "Otherwise, it hurts more." "Am I going to end up like you?" "If you're lucky," they respond, once again leaving. This time, you don't stop them.</span> <a data-passage="4.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You let them go, having nothing more to ask or say. Your brain is occupied right now, filtering through a slew of newfound information and what it may mean. The scary part is that you don't know. You face an unknown world, an unknown species, and an unknown future, and it's taking everything within you to continue standing and not break down, refusing to pick yourself up. "Dante and Camila need you," you whisper to yourself as you sit on the mattress that you had chosen earlier. The phrase is repeated, and it becomes a sacred phrase, the reason to not give up.</span> <a data-passage="4.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_4.png"> Your memory isn't as good as you believed it to be. That's the main thought working its way through your head as you sit on an already cluttered countertop, staring at the map provided to you by your chip. A few drawn X's reflect back at you, causing you to doubt yourself more with each passing minute. Your scope now covers three sectors, and whenever you check one, doubts arise that what you seek may lie in another. But when you leave to check, you find yet again that you're wrong. You close it down and close weary eyes that have grown too used to staring at crossing lines. Despite this, you fear you will soon succumb to ennui if this continues. You need good news. "Long day then?" Prourc asks as he walks into the room, placing a box next to a shelf and unpacking it. "Long week." "Are they known to leave spots behind? Perhaps they destroy and move to a new location every few months." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "Oh!" you snap, eyes widening. "You may be right, Prourc. Just fuck my multiple years of being with them and knowing exactly what they do." "Now calm yourself down," he chastises. "I was just throwing out ideas, no matter how stupid." He shoos $hound out of his way before beginning the process of unpacking yet another box. "What do you remember?" <<else>>\ "No, they're far too prideful for that. My memory is just shoddy. I like to blame it on being kicked out of a cargo plane." "You like to blame everything on that," Prourc snorts. He shoos $hound out of his way before beginning the process of unpacking yet another box. "What do you remember?" <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4.00.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A grimace appears. That's just it; you remember little about your time in Taouron or at least this side of the gigacity. The thing about these kinds of cities is that everything looks the same. From the multiple hubs that see constant traffic, or the buildings wishing to meet the sun, to the lowliest back alleys that seem to all hold the same amount of grime and clandestine dealings. It's one thing you miss dearly about Terra Genesis, the uniqueness. The beauty mixed in with the differing architecture where it appears two builders squabbled before realizing they could just do what they wished. But reminiscing won't help you, not now. Not when your brain can do nothing but reflect to the point that it seems to remember more of the distant past than the here and now. "I don't remember anything," you admit, chewing on your bottom lip as you bring the map up again. You pinch to zoom out and get a better look at the remaining sectors. There are two more left, one on the opposite side of the planet and the other being the capital. Your memory may be faulty, but you'd like to say you'd remember if the safe house was in the capital. And as far as you remember, you've never been to the agricultural side of the planet. You shrink it so it's focused on Taouron and all its many X's. It has to be here; Taouron is a name you are far too familiar with. <a data-passage="4.00.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You best start remembering something," he hums, finishing his task. The store is coming together. Most of the shelves are now filled with goods, or as Prourc likes to call them, his panoply. The dusty cobwebs have been swept away, and the innumerable amounts of trash now out of sight. What is left are rows of display cases and shelves filled with different items, artifacts, and books. Each covers different things, but they all have one thing in common: all are from bygone ages and have gained the title of relic. A few you have procured for him and even had the pleasure of reciting their tales to him, an act that he seems to treasure for reasons you still don't know. But many of them were acquired through his own means, and their stories remain unknown to you. [[Though you have taken to learning some.|4.00LearnSome][$smarts +=5; $view +=3; $hobby_stories to true]] [[And you're fine with that.|4.00FineWithThat][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> Between searching for a buried safehouse and relearning a city you never truly cared about committing to memory, you find plenty of time to read. You find yourself engrossed with most of the tales and stories of civilizations you had no idea existed. Some are still around, and others existed deep into the years where terrans were nothing but primitive beings trying to figure out how fire worked. If you had the funds, you'd probably purchase a few, but you needed every cent. "Almost there," Prourc exclaims. "Want to help me with the last part?" You nod, joining him as he heads outside. He hands you a remote. "Press that, and we're in business." [[Hand it back.|4.00HandBack]] [[Press it.|4.00PressIt]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> And you're fine with it remaining that way. This is interesting, but it's not exactly up your alley. You can think of a number of other things to do in your spare time. "Almost there," Prourc exclaims, "want to help me with the last part?" You nod, joining him as he heads outside. He hands you a remote. "Press that, and we're in business." [[Hand it back.|4.00HandBack]] [[Press it.|4.00PressIt]]
Staring at the remote, you perform a subtle nod before handing it back over to Prourc. "You do the honors." He frowns but says nothing as he takes the remote and stares at the dark sign resting far above your heads. With one light push, it comes to life. The words 'Forgotten Treasures' appear back. <<include "4.01">>
You stare at the remote for a second longer before pressing the button. The sign comes to life in a dazzling show of gold and green, competing with the shops nearby without appearing too gaudy or simplistic. It draws one's attention simply by advertising the mystery of what may lie within. The words 'Forgotten Treasures' rest above you. <<include "4.01">>
"Feels unreal," he murmurs. He closes his eyes and ruffles his head feathers. "Did I ever tell you about my father?" "No." "Well, this was his dream," Prourc stops, frowning at the words before shaking his head. "No, he lived his dream. This was simply part of it. If it was up to him, he'd have a grocery store. He liked helping people." "As far as I know, you were raised in the Outlands, right?" "Right, the Withered Outlands. My ark wasn't like normal zeach arks. The same principle but the neighborhood and all the different species there played the role of caregivers and siblings. My father's store provided the area with everything they needed. He was more prone to give you something for free than you ever feel the need to steal it." Prourc's smile widens in memory. "Everyone loved him, the gangs included. They knew if anyone would stop and listen and help, my father would. He saw the entire area as his family." "And that never backfired?" "No, surprisingly. The few times someone ever did try to vandalize the place, the gangs would take care of them. Even if it happened frequently, it wouldn't have swayed my dad. He loved what he did. He loved opening his store, helping people, and closing for the day. He died doing that, and he died happy. He wanted me to leave the Outlands and have a shot at something that I dreamed of too, but I don't think he realized that seeing him open his shop with this content and wide smile every day made me want to do the same. My mother once believed that I was simply doing it because it's what he may have wanted. But it wasn't. We just shared feathers." "Your mother, is she alive?" "Yes. And I wished she had come with me, but she didn't wish to leave our ark. A feeling that I understood. Still. Perhaps one day I'll have enough solars to bring all of them to live with me." He pauses again and sends me a curious look. "You know. It has just occured to me that out of everything you have ever told me. You have never told me about your family." [[“They're all dead.”|4.01AllDead][$open +=5]] [[“You never asked.”|4.01NeverAsked][$open +=3]] [[“Let's not change that now.”|4.01NoChange][$open -=3]] [[Shrug.|4.01Shrug][$open -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "Well, that's because they're all dead." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "I can't tell if you're kidding or not." "I'm not. I'm the last Moran, guess you can call me a dying species." "Dead seems like a more appropriate word, don't you think?" You chuckle. You can always rely on Prourc to pick up on your mood and roll with it. If it were Checl, you'd have to beg her to drop the subject, and Zihr would somehow find a way to start arguing with you. <<else>>\ "Oh. Truly?" You nod. "I suppose my father may still be alive, but I don't consider him family. Otherwise, everyone's gone." Prourc simply hums, a reaction that you're pleased to receive. You're not sure what you would have said or done if he had begun asking more questions. <</if>>\ <<include "4.02">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "You never asked." "Would you have answered my questions?" You shrug, sincerely not knowing. You suppose it all depended on your mood and the question he posed. Probably other factors too. Prourc is the only one who knows about your link to the Dinami, less out of you needing to tell someone and more because he proved himself a nosy bird with terribly accurate perception. Regardless, it also comforted you a bit to not have to worry about saying too much or too little with the zeach. <<include "4.02">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "I see no reason to change the status quo now." "I can't argue with that logic," he chuckles, and though he is no longer paying you any mind, you nod your thanks. Prourc was always good at minding his own business. He has his moments where curiosity takes hold, but if you don't answer his questions, he's just as okay with that as well. <<include "4.02">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> Surprising neither you nor him, you shrug. Prourc knows better than to dig too deep. Thankfully, he's not the curious sort, and the rare moments he did ask questions, he was fine with coming across a brick wall and turning. Checl would try to find an alternate path, and Zihr would just start arguing with it. <<include "4.02">>
He shakes his head and lets out a low, disbelieving chuckle, placing his attention back on his store. "It feels considerably unreal that I stand here now." Ever since you've known Prourc, you've known this was his one wish. His goal of all goals. To get somewhere important enough to share the things he's collected representing the past from dozens of different cultures. [[A goal you were almost envious of.|4.02Understand][$view -=5]] [[A goal you never wholly understood.|4.02NoUnderstand][$view +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> It's a simplistic, straightforward goal, unlike the dozens of plans you heard from children back in school. Goals screamed from children who wished to see the stars or make it big on Terra Prime. You can picture it. A child proudly stating they want to open up a small store to sell the things they thought interesting, and then their peers laughing as they ridicule them for thinking so small. Yet, you are almost envious of it. Such a lovely and wholesome thought that needed work and tender care like any other but isn't something broadly impossible. When you were younger, you never believed one's goals could be so modest. What would have changed if you did think such a thing possible? <<include "4.03">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> You would never put down another's goal; if anything, you would go without comment. Prourc's goal confused you, or at least you believed there should be more to it. Where was the excitement in opening a store when one could aim for something much bigger? Opening a store just seemed like a pit stop along the way to something grander in a world that grows every day. But again, you know that it isn't your place to judge. <<include "4.03">>
"Even more unreal that I'll have no friend to share it with." You glance over at him, and he gives you a knowing look. "No need to say goodbye if you have no wish to. But I'm not crazy enough to believe I'll be seeing you again, either." "You don't know that," you snort. "Knowing me, I'll be right back here tomorrow, screaming at my abacus." He frowns as he stares at the shop's sign. "I have a feeling you won't be. This is our goodbye." You smirk. "That zeach intuition, I suppose?" He nods, turning to face you head-on. "You'll take care of yourself, won't you? As best as someone like you can." "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means trouble lusts after you. It can never have enough, and you, like an idiot, always seek to seduce it." His metaphor causes you to chuckle, but you fail to argue, for there is nothing to debate. Ever since that trarkran ship decided to descend upon your town, that statement has been accurate. Try as you might to stop it, you can't. <a data-passage="4.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The two of you remain standing there for a while until $hound opens the door to the store, stretching his four front legs and then his hind ones before coming to your side. You take his muzzle out of the satchel at your side, and though he whines at the idea, he allows you to place and buckle it. "Go," Prourc nods, an ounce of emotion in the old zeach's voice. He squeezes your shoulder but doesn't move or even spare you a glance as he stares at the sign as if attempting to spot a flaw. [[“See you later?”|4.04SeeYouLater]] [[“Take care of yourself.”|4.04TakeCare]] [[“Goodbye.”|4.04Goodbye]] [[Hug him.|4.04Hug]] [[Say nothing.|4.04SayNothing]]
You take a few steps away from him, squinting at the light, sleek, gravely sidewalks before coming to a stop. $hound looks up at you in question, and you turn. "Hey, Prourc?" He turns to you with a questioning look on his face. "See you later?" A soft, bittersweet smile appears as he nods. "See you later, $name." You're not sure whether this is really a goodbye or not. If you will never see the likes of Prourc for the rest of your life, or if circumstances and fate will bring you back together. But you sure as hell hope it does. <<include "4.05">>
Glancing at him for the last time, you nod and say, "Take care of yourself." "I'll try my damndest." And with that reassurance uttered, you walk away. You were never one to guess the future and what it holds. It has made a fool of you one too many times for you to ever believe that such a talent has bestowed itself on you. But, like Prourc said, you feel you will never see him again. <<include "4.05">>
"Goodbye, Prourc," you mumble. He seems to bite down on his tongue, squinting as he examines the sign even more closely than before. Knowing that he will probably not return your farewell, you begin to walk off. Whether you see him again or not, you hope he at least understands how grateful you are in some capacity. Your past has soured the taste that all relationships leave you with, but his at least ended on a good note. No backstabbing, no doubts, and no lies. In and out. You nod to yourself as you think that. In and out. <<include "4.05">>
No words escape your mouth as you turn to Prourc and wrap your arms around him, bringing him in for a tight hug that tells him all he needs to know. His arms find their way around you instantly, and the two of you stand there for a moment longer before departing. No words are exchanged. None have to be. If this is your last time, then so be it. But as you walk away, you truly hope fate has something more planned for the two of you. <<include "4.05">>
With nothing to say, you head out. You don't look over your shoulder to get one last glance of the zeach that has helped you since you first appeared in the Outlands, nor do any sort of reply come to mind. You simply go. He's right, you're not good at goodbyes, nor do you want to say something even akin to it. You don't know how to do that anymore. Leaving is easier. <<include "4.05">>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <span class ="flashback">About one year ago … As the buildings get closer and closer, it feels like your legs have simply given up. They assume that safety will be found in this place, and instead of assuring said refuge, they wait to be rescued. That thought causes you to growl, cursing at yourself to keep moving. The last thing you want to do is seem weak in a place such as this. You can feel $hound attempting to support you, but there is only so much he can do to keep you upright. The sun beats down upon you, and though your terran skin has grown hardy since your time on Crion, you can only go so long without water. How ironic for you to finally find some form of civilization, only to die at its doorstep.</span> [[Fuck this. Fuck it all.|4.05FuckThis][$view -=5]] [[You didn't die in the Spires. You're not dying here.|4.05DieInSpires][$view +=5]] [[Whatever. What does it matter?|4.05WhateverMatter][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">With a tired huff, you stop walking and move away from $hound, letting the harsh desert ground catch you. To stay here may be the simplest and smartest thing you've done since you fell out of that plane. How much fight can one person have? Fuck it. Tsering won.</span> <<include "4.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You didn't die in the Spires and won't die here. You refuse too. This place has to have water somewhere. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been a prime area for an outpost. People wouldn't continue coming, even if stranded. They would arrive and do all that they can to leave. You can survive here. You will survive here.</span> <<include "4.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You don't care anymore. All this fighting and for what? Everyone grows tired eventually and after all you've been left to suffer through why not make this your time? A voice in the far back of your mind chooses to pipe up and inform you of the many reasons why it's not your time. Why you must keep fighting and how this isn't the place it all ends. But you wish to quiet it. You wish for everything to grow quiet.</span> <<include "4.06">>
<span class ="flashback">$hound makes a frustrated chirp and pushes you forward. It will seem that it doesn't matter what you see for your future, as $hound has his own thoughts as well. You go as far as you can, and then when legs no longer wish to work, you crawl. You pass by those who stare at you, and even some who simply go on with their day. You have already learned something about these people. This is not an unfamiliar sight. That much infuriates you more than settle nerves that should feel a sense of camaraderie of those who almost made it before you. You are not like everyone else. You have been put through far too much pain and toil to let a desert beat you. Especially a desert that fails to even nurture a candle in comparison to the distant lands where a set of suns are far more vicious and merciless.</span> <a data-passage="4.06.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You gasp as lukewarm water spills over you. Moving backwards and away from the area, you glance around for the source to find a zeach standing off to the side with a bucket in hand. $hound lies nearby, seeming to be far too lazy to help. "I'm guessing you're new here," the zeach sighs, walking out of your line of sight before returning a moment later. They rest the bucket from before in front of you and you lunge forward, lapping up the water with no restraint. "Usually people avoid dying next to merchant carts. It's bad for business."</span> [[“Where do you suggest?”|4.06Suggest][$humor +=5]] [[“You think I care?”|4.06ThinkICare][$open +=3]] [[“You got more of this?”|4.06MoreOfThis][$open -=3]] [[“My apologies.”|4.06Apologies][$humor -=5]] [[Glare at him.|4.06Glare]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"My deepest apologies," you start, sitting in an upright position, "do you have any suggestion for better places to pass out and die?" "Depends, what do you want to happen to your body?" "I don't think I want some random person toying with my limbs." "Then you should head back out and find some crystals. The nemaworms will get you." "Yea," you sigh, "I already ran into them. I'll take my chances with the random person."</span> <a data-passage="4.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You finish the water that they placed down and take a moment to breathe. Pointing to the bucket you glance up at them. "You got anymore of this?" "Yes." "Is it going to cost me?" "Perhaps. Depends on you being more an asset than a liability." "Though I rather stay the latter at the moment. I'm the former." "Then we'll be quick friends and you'll have all the water you can dream of."</span> <a data-passage="4.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Does it look like I care?" The zeach pauses, glancing over their shoulder to look you over, "you look dead. And like you could do with a nice meal and a long nap." "Nap," you snort, "might as well call it hibernation."</span> <<include "4.07">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"My apologies," you murmur, gasping as you dip your hand into the bucket and place some of the water on the back of your neck and behind your ears. For a moment, you enjoy the feeling before placing your attention back on the zeach.</span> <<include "4.07">>
<span class ="flashback">You glare at him, not even bothering to utter a response as you finish the rest of the water they placed down.</span> <<include "4.07">>
<span class ="flashback">"The name is Prourc, by the way." "My name doesn't matter." "Here it does. You'll find that out." "Look," you sigh, weakly pushing yourself to your feet. "This isn't my first rodeo, okay? I've been in shitty situations before, and I'm sure I'll be in many more after this." He nods. "Well, take solace that you'll be in this shitty situation for a while." Your eyes narrow. "What do you mean?" "You'll find that getting into the Outlands is far easier than leaving it. In short, get comfortable." He nods to his cart. "I have shade and water, Nameless Wanderer. You're free to take advantage of it." "And let me guess," you chuckle. "Payment is my name?" He snorts in zeach fashion, sounding much more like a coughing caw than anything else. "I don't give an egg shit about your name," he tells you. "And even so, if you're anything like I think, then I'll know your name in a moon cycle." You laugh at that but take him up on his suggestion. You won't be here that long. He moves some of his stuff, refilling the bucket of water and giving you some fruit along with it. You almost want to question how many times he's done this, he acts as if this is just part of his day to day. But, you're far too hungry, thirst, and hot to care. You'll rest for now, and once you waken and feel better, you'll figure out what comes next.</span> <a data-passage="4.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You walk the streets, only turning when your navigation chimes in to tell you that a change in direction is approaching. Taouron life travels at a speed you have grown unaccustomed to. You have been here two other times, and each time feels like a whirlwind of activity that you can never quite keep up with. People rush from one place to another, completely absorbed in their thoughts. Holo-boards light up the skies as they advertise the latest trends from brands who can foot the bill, leaving those who can't to rely mainly on the archaic idea of foot traffic. Thankfully, the capital and the bulk of the millions are further in, miles from where you are now. A swarming hive of people with their own agendas and destinations. If you think this place is frustrating, you surely aren't ready to move further in, an act you will have to do at some point. If you get the information you're looking for, then the only way off Crion is in Tebriri. How much paperwork would you need then? Would your basic information be enough to grant you an interstellar passport? Freeing yourself from the Dinami came with benefits, but like everything, a host of negative consequences also appeared. Shaking the thought from your head, you focus on your newest destination. A bit more searching has yielded yet another area that could be home to the safe house. That is, until you get there and realize that your memory has conjured up a new location for you to check. It rests only a few blocks away, so you pick up your pace, a muzzled and unhappy $hound trotting beside you. As you go, your mind wanders to a topic that you had been avoiding. Checl and Zihr and what they may be doing with their new surroundings. [[You mostly wonder about Checl.|4.08Checl]] [[You mostly wonder about Zihr.|4.08Zihr]]
You find yourself thinking about Checl and what the zeach must be doing. Unlike Zihr, she's lived in places like this. In fact, she may see this as much more minor. But she spent nearly a year in the Outlands, same as you, and some may need a readjustment period. Not to mention she's probably alone unless Zihr opted to stick with her. She's smart, and though she may be pissed with your decision to go, you have to believe she's doing fine. [[Otherwise you'll feel even more like shit.|4.08Checl2]] [[Believe it and move on from it.|4.08Checl2]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[You'll miss her.|4.08Checl_Nervous][$checlRo +=5; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[You'll miss her.|4.08Checl_Nervous][$checlRo +=5; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Should've had sex …|4.08Checl_Teasing][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Should've had sex …|4.08Checl_Teasing][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
There was a list that came with Checl and all of the things that you should/shouldn't have done. A list that stretches all the way back to the day the two of you met, the day you saved her, and she followed you home like some newly imprinted baby goose. There's making bad decisions subconsciously and then making them fully coherent, knowing what you're doing and where it'll lead. You always knew the day would come when you would go your separate ways, when you would tell her goodbye. Perhaps you believed it would have been sooner, so the hurt of leaving her side would not hurt as much, but it was still a conscious thought. A thought that has led to this hapless sight. You walking down a street, your mission well-defined, yet missing and wondering about a zeach you will never see again. If you knew this to be your fate, why did you not tell her something? Saving you or her? Neither? Both? Your mind begins to conjure up an answer to your questions, but before it can finish formulating it, you mercy kill the idea and move on. Checl is gone. Dumb decisions from the past are exactly that, in the past. You'll never see her again, and like always, you'll accept that. Another mark for a long list of 'what ifs.' <a data-passage="4.08Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Practically a year of being companions, of living under the same roof, of you seeing her every day, and you never even tried to get her into your bed. Or, perhaps that's not the most truthful sentence. There were times when you flirted heavily with her, throwing out every single indication of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do; she responded positively to all of it as well, but … That's where the question marks began to appear, dotting the corners of your sight. She wouldn't be your first fling, <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept")>>you literally decided to have sex with her co-worker. No, Checl would be far from your first fling. So, nervousness was not an issue. Then what was?<<else>>though it wasn't like you had tons of those either. But nervousness was not an issue. So then, what was?<</if>> Everything was there. You find yourself attracted to Checl, you had thoughts about it, you threw out the signals, but you just never chose to cross that line. Even now, you can't quite grasp the truth, or you just willingly walk the path of the emotionally blinded. Your mind begins to conjure up an answer to your questions, but before it can finish formulating it, you mercy kill the idea and move on. Checl is gone. Dumb decisions from the past are exactly that, in the past. You'll never see her again, and like always, you'll accept that. Another mark for a long list of 'what ifs.' <a data-passage="4.08Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> "Hurry it up, newbie, tables five and three," one of the cooks screams at her, placing down the numerous plates with its six arms before leaving her field of view. "Must be great," she mumbles, placing one table's meal on a tray, "how about you wait tables, and I cook?" A task she didn't know how to do. She rolls her eyes at the thought and heads to the first table, making sure not to bump into anyone and to ignore the feeling of eyes glued to her body. She didn't want this job, but it was the only one that hired her as quickly as it did and didn't involve her being absolutely naked. If she was in Tebriri, then more jobs would be available though the process longer, something she might've not minded if she didn't need to find a place to stay immediately. "Your food," she tells the table, "please buzz me if you need anything else." Code word for "do not need me, ever." She had worked at a restaurant only one other time. One back home when she was still amongst her ark. That one was enjoyable, a small ark-owned restaurant that gave all those her age proper work experience and even helped point them to other jobs they'd enjoy. Oh, how she missed those days. How she missed that life. Back then, she had never felt lonely, and she felt like someone to be respected and loved. Now, loneliness seems to be all she feels. The world is a cruel place, and she felt as if she stood at a crossroads between wanting to be tougher and conquer it or rushing back to where she felt the most free. <a data-passage="4.08Checl3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
She clenches her eyes closed, clearing her throat to free herself of dry eye. Thinking of $name and Zihr helped, if only a little. The anxious side of her screams about how they left her. How they turned their backs on her and showed just how much they cared. While another side simply missed the two figures she had come to call friends. As she became absorbed in the usual routine of the restaurant, delivering food and helping out those who needed her, she made herself cheerful by thinking of companions no longer at her side. Thinking about Zihr and his confident demeanor. Despite abhorring the thought of being wrong or uneducated about something, he was always interested in discovering something new. Whether because of general interest or simply due to knowing something else others couldn't use against him in the future. Either way, it always made her smile. A heart of gold wrapped around a grim facade. And then, there was $name. $name, the terran that saved her. The terran that provided her companionship even when ?he obviously rather be alone. <<if $ticketforone>>The terran that turned ?his back on her and marched into Taouron while she stayed in the desert. She's never wanted to slap someone more. The biggest issue is not knowing whether it is $name who deserved it or herself. She knew who ?he was soon after ?he saved her. ?He never hid that side from her and has always been honest. In fact, ?he had a knack for never shutting up about how much she shouldn't trust anyone, including ?him. So how dare she think ?he would put her and Zihr first? <<else>>The terran that is now gone. She misses Zihr, but she misses $name more. Being around ?him guarantees an adventure, even when that adventure involves nothing more than staring up at stars from a shambled rooftop. She never knew someone could be so mysterious<<if $open >=50>> yet so forthcoming at the same time.<<else>> and act as if such a thing came naturally.<</if>> She wanted to know everything about ?him, and in the cycle of them knowing one another, she found out so little.<</if>> <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>\ Her thoughts lead her to another thought, the two of them in all of their intimacy and whether it has all been her merely conjuring what she wants so desperately. She craves to be held in ?his_ arms, to rest her head on ?his_ chest and fall asleep listening to the beating of ?his_ heart. But mostly, she wants ?him to feel the same. There were always little hints and gestures on $name's part, but nothing concrete. It was as if ?he knew just how to get her feathers frazzled and mandibles trembling. She always hated the idea of zeaches being stereotyped as sexual creatures, but that stereotype laughs in her face when it comes to $name. And these thoughts … they help her none. At the end of the day, $name is gone, and her heart, though not broken, feels fragmented. <</if>>\ She misses ?him dearly. <a data-passage="4.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You can't help but wonder what Zihr might be up to now. He's never been anywhere but the Outlands, so you know this is all new to him. Imagining how well he's adapting is hard, especially with how different the rules are compared to places such as the Dreads. Strict order, to the point that it breeds contempt and disillusion or gross neglect and maladministration which then breeds a queue full of vigilantes. Many would place Zihr in the latter group, but the truth is that he is neither. Not yet, anyway. He's nothing but a drowning face lost in a tumultuous sea. And you can't help but wonder if he has begun to realize that. [[You have a feeling he'll learn to float.|4.08Zihr2]] [[Maybe he'll drown in it.|4.08Zihr2]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[A cute face in a tumultuous sea.|4.08Zihr_Direct][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[A cute face in a tumultuous sea.|4.08Zihr_Direct][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[You could've worked that stick out of his ass …|4.08Zihr_Reserved][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[You could've helped worked that stick out of his ass …|4.08Zihr_Reserved][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
You smirk, practically hearing Zihr talk about how you should stop messing with him and having the nerve to blush. He has never really understood how to take your flirting, for that matter, nor have you. If you aren't sprinkling light praise, the two of you are arguing. It's a dynamic that you have never been privy to. In the Dinami, there were always those you found yourself attracted to, but you were more rivals than anything, but not to this extent. You breathe the wrong way, and Zihr is ready to tell you that inhaling through your mouth and exhaling through your nose is the wiser option. Regardless, the raza made a stamp on your life. A rocky relationship and an understanding that this alliance always had a deadline have caused you to question how long he'll be relevant. A few months or a few years? Will you forget him as soon as you get off this planet? And why are you hoping he's asking the same question? You could never guess where the two of you stood, disregarding the want to tear each other's heads off. Did he simply see your flirtations as a mild annoyance, done on your part to throw him off? Or did he actually feel something? You snarl, and why do you care? It doesn't matter. That is something you must constantly repeat. You have other things to worry about. <a data-passage="4.08Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The snort you manage is one half cough, and the other half is an unexpected laugh. An … interesting image, yes, but no part is a lie. The man surely had one lodged up there, and if he had just let you, you could have helped him out. As far as you can remember, you've never been quiet about your attraction towards Zihr. He was attractive; anyone with eyes could see that. There were many times when you had to remind yourself of the reason you never pursued him, and his presence always served as a helpful reminder. It would have been an interesting night, one that would have vastly improved his chances of being unforgettable. Whether because he ended up being a good lay or not, it really didn't matter. Yet, here you are, walking down a street, never having known if the raza was good with his tongue, or hands, or anything really. You doubt he would have gone for it anyway if you had shown him that you were deathly serious. He always seemed far too nervous to continue on, acting as if your teasing was a personal affront to his entire character. Perhaps it was, but it didn't change the fact that he was fun to mess with. It doesn't matter. That is something you must constantly repeat. You have other things to worry about. <a data-passage="4.08Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Everything is too much. The noises are too loud, the lights too bright, the activity too chaotic. Chaotic. Yes. That is the perfect word to describe this place. It makes the alleyways of the Outlands look tame and monotonous. Zihr finds himself struggling to focus on anything, and when he does attempt, he finds himself getting in the way of someone and yelled at. The only solace he finds is atop the few roofs that he can climb. There, he finds a peculiar kind of peace in looking down upon those below. Everything still grates his nerves, but it makes him feel slightly braver amongst the chaos. That is until the lights in the distance grow brighter against the dark gray sky. They feel blinding, and the entire sight causes a tremendous sense of dread to rise in his throat. If everything here is aggravating him, what will a place like that do? What if these places are minor compared to what rests out there amongst the stars? Would he ever learn to cope? <a data-passage="4.08Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
But that's not the only thing that plagues him. No, some nights, he finds himself missing his companions. Checl saying something encouraging, something he will likely ignore and deny, while secretly finding comfort in it. He should have told her how much he appreciated her. Whereas $name would probably sit silently. He laughs at how simply thinking about the terran causes him to want to groan. He never could understand how someone so frustrating managed to draw so much of his curiosity. Whenever $name spoke, he simply wished to tell ?him to shut up. A far better alternative than hearing whatever lucrative plan ?he devised and then arguing with ?him. <<if $ticketforone>>Though, now, Zihr wishes to do more. To deliver a much deserved punch to the terran. He knew $name was many things but leaving them behind without a second thought ... no, Zihr didn't think ?him capable of that. Perhaps it is for the best that Zihr will never see ?him again.<</if>> <<if $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ <<if $ticketforone>>Despite the rising hatred, there is something else deep within. He<<else>>But at that moment, he<</if>> can only think about the night he saved ?him in the wagon. How close they were to one another, ?his_ body on top of his as he stared into ?his_ $markings eyes. The same eyes he found himself rolling his own at multiple times a day. Something fluttered in his chest that day, similar to now, but he shooed the feeling away. Unsure and far too afraid to face whatever it may be. It didn't matter anyway; $name was gone. <</if>>\ He looks upon himself as a stranger. One unwilling to learn more about this new world when his past one is still so close. How easy would it be to walk back out that gate and keep going? Or to catch a ride on a speeder or shuttle to the Outlands and live there for the remainder of his life? //The lack of answers//, a voice hisses. But it fails to provide him with any kind of confidence or reassurance. Instead, he sits and wonders what will happen if he finds all he's looking for and it's still insufficient? Doubt plagues him in a way he isn't familiar with. The more he spends time on this roof, the more nights that pass and shift into day, the more he knows it will only get worse. <a data-passage="4.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> This has to be it. A decoy door later, multiple weary glances, and a few curses, and here you are. Unlike every other door you've come across, this one bears two long stripes on the side, a basic symbol for the Dinami. A keypad rests in front of you, prompting you to open the door. You type in the code, possessing no energy to sigh when the keypad glows a bright red, and the numbers you typed disappear. Of course, they changed it. They constantly changed the codes, but you never had to worry about such a thing because the codes were sent and stored on your chip. Why hadn't you thought of this? So caught up with finding the safe house, you failed to consider the act of getting in. Taking a step back, you think through your newest batch of choices. [[Wait for a member.|4.09Wait]] <<if $tech >=5>>[[Hack the door.|4.09Hack]]<</if>>
Unfortunately, all of your hacking mods vanished in the fall. But, luckily, you have the skills to open it yourself. These doors are simplistic in nature; finding them is half the trouble, and the other half is getting inside. By the time a thief finds their way past both obstacles, they'll be taken down by whoever is within. That, and there is little to take. Unless something drastic changed in a year, Dinami safe houses were simply a place to access a terminal and rest or avoid the law if need be. They house no secret treasures or tell-all secrets. You input a universal maintenance code and hear the popping of the interface as it unlocks. Pulling the face-off, you pull up your wrist terminal and begin to access software that can run a bypass on the decrepit security. Once that's complete, you maneuver through lines of codes until you finally find the correct access code and select it. Your hard work appears in the form of the door clicking as it unlocks, and you place everything back before heading within. "Stay here," you tell $hound, performing the appropriate click after. In the confined space of the safe house, you'd rather $hound stay out here, lest he causes more problems. <a data-passage="4.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You won't be able to get in alone, and there's no way to know if anyone is within. The chances of someone coming to let you in are low. No one is stupid enough to open the door to a random character claiming to be a member. Your best bet is to wait until someone leaves or enters, and you make your move. With that said, you sit off to the side and act like any other adrift drunk that found themselves met with a tough night. "$hound," you speak, clicking immediately after to get the aiczeots' attention. "Go down that alley and stay until I call for you." He'll be a dead giveaway to anyone wandering around. Best to keep him out of sight. With $hound somewhat concealed, you wait. And wait. You're positive you'll fall asleep before anyone comes by, and a few times, you drift off, awoken only by the sounds of traffic and chatter from the main street. Only when you start to doubt your plan does someone come in to evaporate such worries. A shaph appears dead on their feet as they stagger towards the door. At first, you check for wounds, but after a bit more checking, you realize they're simply tired. Standing, you wonder how far you can get before they know you're there. All of you are trained to have higher awareness, but there are still times when years of training are outdone by the needs of the body. <<if $markings is "blue">>\ It'll be interesting to see if shaph's can pick up others who use their stealth trait. Utilizing the ability, you fall in line behind the alien and wait until they unlock the door. Either they are too tired to realize you're there, or the stealth ability is working. The doors part, and you wordlessly utter a prayer as you walk in right behind them. [[Take them out quietly.|4.09SnapNeck][$attitude -=5]] [[Knock them unconscious.|4.09KnockOut][$attitude +=5]] <<elseif $markings is "pink">>\ Keeping half of your attention on the shaph that has still not detected you, the other half is spent on pushing out your perception to hopefully figure out how many people are within. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn't. One day you will truly need to figure out just how far this ability stretches. Within are three other Dinami members. Spread out enough that trying to avoid a prolonged gun fight will not happen. No, you'll have to go another route, but first you need to deal with the shaph. [[Take them out quietly.|4.09SnapNeck][$attitude -=5]] [[Knock them unconscious.|4.09KnockOut][$attitude +=5]] <<else>>\ You fall in line behind the alien and wait until they unlock the door. They must be even more tired than you initially thought if they still haven't noticed you. The doors part, and you wordlessly utter a prayer as you walk in right behind them. But before the doors close, they stop and look over their shoulder straight at you. [[Snap their neck.|4.09SnapNeck][$attitude -=5]] [[Knock them out.|4.09KnockOut][$attitude +=5]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> Already preparing for this, you grab onto their head and twist as hard as possible, hearing the snap soon after. Releasing them, their body falls to the ground, and you pull them into the hallway, allowing the doors to close. <<include "4.10">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You move forward and deliver two quick punches to the area underneath their upper arm, hoping their clothing isn't too thick to absorb the hits. Their natural armor already makes it harder to hit the spot with the correct amount of force, and the longer they stay on their feet, the more you doubt you've gotten them. And now, with them knowing what you're doing, a second chance isn't as easy. So, you're forced to resort to a far more dirty tactic. Kicking them in the knee, you slip behind them, not caring that they grab onto you as you deliver two more hits to the neck, far more brutal than the last. They fall, and you wiggle out of a grip that still hasn't relented despite your opponent being benumbed. <a data-passage="4.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Each step you take finds your heart beating faster as you make your way down a dark, metallic corridor that leads into a low-lit room, reminding you more of a bunker. <<if $markings is "pink">>When you enter the main area, you are faced with the three members from before.<<else>>When you enter the main area, you are faced with three other Dinami members, each minding their business until they look towards you.<</if>> "Who the fuck are you?" a raza questions, jumping to their feet while another lifts their gun. You have only a second to react, but that's all you need. You've been needing to discharge for a while; this happens to be the perfect time. It takes little more than a thought to cause the reaction and thus send the raging flare that originates from you outwards. <<if $markings is "gold">>You haven't truly mastered this, and you doubt you ever will, but you can use it on a level that you shouldn't. You can tell it where to go, shape it before it releases itself, but that's about it. Once the nominal orders are given, it does what it pleases.<<else>>But there's no mastery after that. The only thing you can do is summon it. Once called, it does whatever it pleases. An irrepressible kinetic force that rips through anything it pleases, finding little to challenge its might.<</if>> The departure leaves you with a lack of breath, fumbling for balance as your vision grows blurry but then corrects itself a minute later. By then, the screams have faded, and when you look at the bodies, all that is left is severely burnt, unrecognizable husks. <a data-passage="4.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
//Moi̥// is the official term for it, according to the trarkrans. Similar to what cosmicium did to terrans, it also altered the trarkran DNA, bestowing upon them this … ability. You recall seeing it used up close and personal many times, a wondrous force that sometimes caused you to forget how deadly it is. Used against other trarkrans isn't always detrimental and depends on the user's strength. But on almost any other species, well … the results lie before you. To call it fire or even energy would not only be wrong but deflating what exactly the ability is. A mix of both blood and fire to the point where one can't tell if it is more of one or the other. When called upon and utilized, it creates a searing force that reminds you of living water. It exhibits so many elements that it hurts your head to think about. Flows like liquid, crackles like lightning, but the heat and color are closer to fire. Regardless, the trarkrans have far more uses for it than you. The only reason you hold any of it is due to the introduction of trarkran blood into your body, enough to grant you this curse and cause confusion on any DNA test. Another negative is that you can't use this whenever you wish. Over time, it grows, reminding you of a bucket resting under a faulty leak. The bucket will fill up and, once at its brim, must be emptied. If not, it will kill you. The Baron had to explain all the intricacies to you. Hotter planets speed it up, while colder planets will slow it down drastically to the point where one will wish for it to present itself. And if the planet is too cold, it'll freeze an individual's inside. You're not sure if this includes you. Despite what others have added, you are terran, which means your skin naturally adapts over time. Just like how you survive on hot planets, you can survive on cold ones. It's an experiment you're curious about but not too hasty to see done. <a data-passage="4.11.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With everyone out of the way, you take a look around. These safe houses are left bare by the Dinami with little care as to what their affiliates add to them. You remember one possessing a row of arcades donated (or stolen) by a member, while another had an entire wall with a fish tank. This one isn't glamorous, instead hosting a group of worn-out, frayed, and now partially incinerated couches sitting around an old, rectangular battery whose job has gone from powering something to a coffee table. A melange of posters covering topics from space travel to movies, entertainment, and even someone's grocery list is metallically posted to the far wall. Anything that was hung on the wall closest to you is now gone. "Just find what you're looking for," you grumble, gazing around for the terminal and finally finding it on a far wall beside a refrigerator. You grab the arm of one of the unconscious members and drag them over, allowing their abacus to log you in. "Member 3-PZ-349, welcome," the computer hums. Wasting no time, you begin typing in what you wish to find. [[Location of Baroness Trebar pem-rits.|4.11InfoBaroness]] [[Information about yourself.|4.11InfoYourself]] [[Whereabouts of Tsering Arinasai.|4.11InfoTsering]]
You type in the name of the Baroness, watch as the results appear, and then click on the appropriate name. Thankfully, the bloodline is old. Otherwise, you would probably have to sort through a host of people with the same blood names. The terminal starts its search, giving you a view of the galaxy before zooming into a star system, next to a solar system, and finally to a planet. So, they remained on Miarilia after all this time. It doesn't surprise you, but you had hoped you would never need to step on that planet again. As more of a precaution than a need, you type in 'Jarill Trebar pem-rits.' It goes through the same process as before, taking you from one stage of the galaxy to the next. It finishes with the same view that you had before. It's wise to assume that the two are together, then. Makes it easier for you. <<include "4.12">>
You type in the data, curious to see what you'll find on a Dinami terminal, and sure enough, the information isn't good. You wish to say you're surprised to have a bounty on your head, but that would just be lying. It's a sizeable bounty as well, one that'll cause just about anyone to pause and consider. You look for conditions, alive for the full amount and a little less than half if they bring in a deceased body. You wish to say that the immense difference fills you with some relief, but you have no doubts that you may be more trouble alive than dead to whoever attempts to acquire you. <<include "4.12">>
You begin typing in Tsering's name when you stop, realizing that it's far easier to type in his member ID. 3-DD-281. The combination disappears a moment later as information appears. It's basic information that any Dinami operative can get their hands on, but that's about it. It hasn't occurred to you that some information would be missing unless the individual has the clearance to keep other members from doing exactly what you're doing. At most, you see that his status is active, meaning that not only is he alive, but he is still operating under the organization, and so whatever lies he told, they believed. You'll have to find another way. <<include "4.12">>
"Hey!" You're barely able to dodge out of the way as the terminal explodes in a mixed shower of sparks and plasma. Two more blasts cause you to drop to the ground and crawl. "Fuck," you shout as you take cover behind a couch. "What the fuck did you do to them?" the shooter screams. [[“Same thing I'll do to you.”|4.12SameThingWillHappenToYou][$coercer +=1]] [[“Stop shooting and I'll tell you.”|4.12StopShooting][$broker +=1]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++</span><</if>> "The same thing I'll do to you if you don't put that gun down." "And leave myself defenseless?" "Check your dead mates; they weren't defenseless either. Unlucky for them, what I did doesn't matter if you have a gun or not. I don't even have to get up close. So, you want to comply, or do you want to experience firsthand what it feels like to be burned alive to the point where your face is no longer recognizable?" They're silent, and you silently pray that the scene is as grisly as you believe. You never liked looking at the remains of those caught up in one of your flares. Not even accounting for the smell, it is all just too horrendously revolting for you. Melted and bubbling sinew lying right next to darkened puddles of appendages, some even crystalized by the sudden act. If anyone ever found themselves curious about what a flesh exhibition would look like, they would not have to look much further. "Fine, putting it down." [[Shoot them.|4.12ShootThem][$attitude -=3]] [[Let them live.|4.12LetLive][$attitude +=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You waste no time, hoping to catch them still in the act. Standing up, you take aim immediately. The bullet lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good. With them now out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "4.13">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You snort, "kick it over here, or I'm killing you without a second thought." "And let you kill me? I'm not stupid." "Your choice. Want to take a chance on me letting you live or risk it all?" There's silence before you hear something slide against the floor, and you move to grab the gun but stay hidden, peeking to see if they have another. Seeing that they don't, and their hands are raised in surrender, you stand. This is actually pretty pathetic for a member of the Dinami, but you suppose that not everyone can be considered elite. You surrounded yourselves with those of threat level U, forgetting that A and L exist. "Turn around." They do so, and you move to knock them out. With them out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "4.13">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Broker ++</span><</if>> "Maybe if you stop shooting, I'll tell you!" you shout back, surprised that they actually stop. You peek over the top of the couch and see them standing there, the gun still pointed at you, but it seems they're willing to hear what you have to say. You duck back down, not risking //that// much. "I found them like this," you start. "Bullshit." "Since you know what happened, maybe you should tell me the story, and I point the gun." "I received a distress beacon." "Congratulations, you can work your abacus. I did too." "Then what were you doing on the terminal?" "Attempting to find out what happened and who was here. Maybe even see if one of them had some kind of substance on them. Because this is …" You inhale, about to throw up from the smell that wafts into your nostrils. You. Hate. Acting. "… this is unholy." "If you didn't do this, you wouldn't be hiding." "You just shot a round of plasma slugs at me." You sigh. "Please, think about what you're saying before you say them. If you think I trust you just because you're Dinami, then you're wrong." That's the most truthful thing you've said this entire back-and-forth. [[“I heard about that cargo plane.”|4.12CargoPlane][$dinami -=5]] [[“I know what the Dinami teaches.”|4.12DinamiTeaches][$dinami +=5]]
"I heard about that cargo plane incident," you tell them, wondering how long that was the topic of conversation. "What cargo plane incident?" You open your mouth, then close it, cursing lowly at how much you claim to remember when you honestly have forgotten. Dinami wouldn't speak about something like that, especially to underlings. This member probably wouldn't even know about the bounty on your head. That would be strict information for those the Dinami trust the most or any threat-level U hit-persons. You find yourself with only one choice. "How have you not heard about -" you start, stopping mid-sentence to stand up and take aim. The hit lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good. You're not exactly happy that it came to this, but you see no other option. Now. You need to go. <a data-passage="4.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I know what the Dinami teaches, and it certainly isn't to be kind and trust your neighbor." "Then you know that I don't trust you either." "Great. We don't trust each other. Can we at least stop shooting at one another and figure this out?" They're silent, perhaps trying to find numerous solutions to the problem hiding behind the couch. This provides you with a choice as well. [[Shoot them.|4.12ShootThem2][$attitude -=3]] [[Let them live.|4.12LetLive2][$attitude +=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> Regardless if they're still holding their gun, they're not entirely focused on you. You won't have a better moment. Standing up, you take aim immediately. The hit lands perfectly mid-chest, killing the raza where they stand. You let out a thankful breath. You'll need to keep practicing, but it's good to know that your aim is still good. With them now out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <<include "4.13">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> //No killing//, you think to yourself, genuinely hoping it won't come to that. Knock them out. If they allow you to get that close, you'll knock them out. Perhaps next time you buy ammo, you'll invest in some shock ones. "Okay. But I check the terminal while you stand to the side." "You mean the terminal you shot?" "It may still be working." You cautiously stand and find them already moving towards you and the terminal. They nod to the corner, and you begin to move, plotting every step. It'll be a lunge, but you can do it. "If it helps," you start, passing them but continuing to walk to maintain the illusion, "check under the member code -" You make your move, finding it reasonably easy to retract the steps, grab them, and knock them out. It's a bit too easy, but you seem to constantly forget that there are two other threat levels within the Dinami. They might've been A or L, nowhere near as trained as you and others, and more like fodder so others can get the job done. With them out of the way, you leave the base as quickly as possible, remembering that others are probably on their way. <a data-passage="4.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Free of the bunker, you head to the alley to grab $hound when a figure rides up on a Pursuer. You've always thought the bikes were a tad bit too lean, not sporty or luxurious but also not rugged like the dirt bikes back home. The rider whips the electric bike to the side as they look you over and start to reach for their gun. Wasting no time, you dart down the alleyway, hearing their mumbled shout behind you, but you don't pause. You need to become a ghost, and the only way to do that is by heading into the populace. Breaching the other side of the alley, you merge in with the people but quickly realize how foolish the plan is. There's no way someone won't spot $hound, and the way the crowd gives the two of you a berth, you're drawing even more attention. A ringing gunshot gives you an answer, and the streets erupt into chaos. Dinami never really cared about casualties, but this seems like a step too far. You understand the fear that travels through all of your blood. The fear of having to return and explain why and how someone got away and pleading for moods to be lax and punishments trivial. But shooting on a busy street? You find it hard to picture the Dinami forgiving that. //That's if they don't return with your head//. You continue on, turning down a street and then another, hoping that the chaos of the crowd has successfully hidden you from your hunter. Heading towards a third street, you pause when you see someone walking opposite the crowd. It could be anyone, you know that, but as soon as their eyes rest on you and $hound, you watch as they reach for something. <a data-passage="4.14.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You curse lowly as you turn and sprint away, searching for another escape path. Barely five steps are made in this new direction; when the skycar nearest you explode, your senses plunge into darkness as you try to regain footing and awareness. You hadn't been struck, but everything feels like it hurt. For a minute, you feel like you're running with the crowd. Equal parts nosy and frightened, wishing to get as far from the chaos as possible but wishing to know what is happening. In another life, one far, far away, you could've been. No knowledge of what to do as you have never been the target, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can feel $hound near you, urging you to rise, and little by little, the fragmented sounds of the burning car piece back together, joining the cacophony of screams. But there's something else. You feel hands gripping your shoulders, trying and failing to move you. [[Blast them.|4.13BlastThem]] [[Move away.|4.13MoveAway]] [[Look first.|4.13LookFirst]]
Reaching for your gun, you prepare to shoot whoever it is. Lunge, pivot, shoot, you tell yourself but hear a familiar screech telling you to stop. So familiar, in fact, that you have to look over your shoulder to make sure it's who your mind is conjuring up. You glance, surprised to see Checl there. <<include "4.14">>
You throw your hand at the person, making it clear that you want to be released as you crawl a few steps away. "Can you fight later?" a very familiar voice questions. So familiar, in fact, that you have to look over your shoulder to make sure it's who your mind is conjuring up. You glance, surprised to see Checl there. <<include "4.14">>
Knowing your luck, it'll just be a caring onlooker trying to help you escape this madness, same as them. You glance up and find yourself shocked to see Checl there. <<include "4.14">>
"Checl?" you question,<<if not hasVisited("4.13MoveAway")>> moving away and<</if>> trying to figure out what kind of concussion you may have. <<if $ticketforone>>"Shut up and come on. I can't believe I'm saving you after what you did to me and Zihr." You're not surprised that this came up, but that's not where your focus is.<<else>>"We need to hide first," she tells you, grabbing you again and directing you to a flipped skycar. You go with her, placing your backs to it before glancing over at her.<</if>> "What are you doing here?" "I work at the restaurant over there," she nods in a direction. "Then suddenly I heard the gunshots and saw the explosion." "And you decided to run into the madness instead of away?" you chastise. "No. I saw $hound's tail and thought, 'why, of course it has to be $name behind all of this. Its been far too quiet.' Silly me for thinking your antics would stay in the Outlands." [[“Alright, I get it smart ass.”|4.14SmartAss]] [[“Thanks for the save.”|4.14ThanksForSave]] [[“Antics?”|4.14Antics]] [[“I missed you.”|4.14MissedYou]] [[“I did not miss this.”|4.14DidNotMissThis]] [[Say nothing.|4.14Nothing]]
"Alright, alright, I get it, smart ass." "Let me guess, this isn't your fault?" "Oh no. This is one hundred percent my fault. No doubt about it. My real concern is finding a way out of it." "You don't have a plan?" "I'm making this all up as I go, Checl." "Have you ever thought that maybe that's the problem?" "No, I think having this conversation right now is the problem. Just shush." You turn your attention away from her and focus on your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
"Thanks for the save." "Don't get—wait. Did you just thank me?" "You seem to be turning into Zihr." "Scary isn't it," she giggles, and though you smile, you force yourself to focus back on your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
<<if hasVisited("3.27HowThatTurnedOut")>>\ "Again, with the antics word. Why do you guys keep using that with me?" "Because that's the best word to describe what you do." "No. Wrong. You think I end up in these situations because it's my favorite pastime, and I have nothing better to do?" <<else>>\ Whoa," you start, stopping her and cocking your head to the side as you replay her words. "Antics? I don't have antics." "What do you call all of this?" "Not antics. You think I end up in these situations because it's my favorite pastime, and I have nothing better to do?" <</if>>\ "I don't think you want me to answer that," she huffs. You open your mouth, then close it, realizing you didn't. Instead, you rest your attention on getting out of this mess. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
You softly chuckle, "gosh, I missed you." Every emotion on her face shifts to shock as she stares at you, perhaps attempting to find the lie in your words. "Really?" "Focus, Checl," you snort and turn your attention away from her to figure out what to do next. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
You let out a long sigh, "yep. I really didn't miss this." Checl remains quiet, but her crinkled eyes and flat feathers speak everything she hasn't said. You turn your attention from her to your surroundings. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
Saying nothing, you focus on your surroundings and figuring out what to do next. There are at least two attackers out there, probably more now. The crowd is beginning to thin, and seeing that they know to look for an aiczeots, they probably know you're still in the general area. You can probably reach a street, but you'll be pursued. <<include "4.15">>
And now, you have to worry about Checl. Glancing over at her, her words from earlier replay. There is an importance within them that has nothing to do with //your// predicament. Since freeing her in the Outlands, Checl has been by your side, even when it was unhealthy for her. You know she won't walk away willingly, especially now since you already ditched her once<<if $ticketforone>> ... twice.<<else>>.<</if>> "What do we do?" You bite the inside of your cheek, gazing at where she nodded. She can live the life she's been dreaming about in the Outlands. All those nights you spent with her and hearing about what she missed and wanted most. She won't find that with you, but maybe … maybe she can find it on her own. [[Tell her to run to the restaurant. (This will remove Checl from the main story. But you may see her again in the future.)|4.15ByeChecl][$cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "free"]] [[Tell her to stick close. (Checl will remain a part of the main story.)|4.15HiChecl][$cp to true]]
"You are going to run back to the restaurant and take cover. Don't come back until all of this is over." "But what about you?" "This isn't your fight," you remind her, moving to get ready to run, "when I say go, you run. We'll meet back up later, alright?" She looks like she wishes to argue, but you surmise that she finds it pointless. Good, because your focus is occupied by getting off this main street and away from the crowds before more backup arrive. If they take you this easily, the Dinami may just kill you on principle, to hell with the interrogation and torture. "Go!" you shout. For a moment, you can see Checl's fleeting form in the corner of your eye. You'll meet back up with her later when everything is safe. For now, you need to focus. <<include "4.16">>
"Stay on me, okay?" "Side by side? Right behind you? A few feet?" "Let's go," you say, making a run for it while your attackers recharge or reload. <<include "4.16">>
$hound takes off in front of you, heading straight for the space between two buildings with you close behind. The area is tight, and you're forced to slow down, but the lack of bullets is reassuring for now. <<if $cp>>"Come on," you whisper to Checl once she makes it through the gap. <</if>>You stand in an intersection of alleys. Right is an automatic no since it'll just lead back to the square, meaning you can keep going straight or left. Before you can decide, shouts on your left are heard, and you surge forward just as a shot is fired. You race down alleyways and streets alike, all beginning to blur into one as you try to lose your assailants. A body slams into you, and you're knocked into the side of a building. For a minute, you're dazed, able to hear the sounds of others scrapping and $hound hissing. When the world has come back into focus, the person who attacked you lies on the ground, and Zihr stands over them. "Zihr?" you <<if $cp>>and Checl say at the same time, though her tone is full of elation, unmatched by your far more bewildered one.<<else>> question in bewilderment.<</if>> <<if $ticketforone>>\ He glares at you for what feels like longer than a minute and there is no denying the way his fist jumps slightly. He wants to hit you, an understandable sentiment. "You're lucky," he growls. "Follow me." <<else>>\ "Yea, yea," he sighs. "Are you going to follow me or not?" <</if>>\ "You speak like you have this area mapped out." He spares you a glance that answers your question. He indeed does. You suppose you shouldn't be //that// surprised; he had done the same thing in the Outlands. Though you had believed it was more due to him living there and not just because it's a quirk. <a data-passage="4.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Lead the way," you sigh, shooing him forward. He does so confidently, leading you back towards the main street. You believe freedom is finally within your grasp, even going so far as to plotting your next steps, when the view before you causes you to freeze. Law enforcement blocks the streets, shepherding frantic civilians while others arrest who you believe are Dinami members. And now, their attention is on you. "You're surrounded," they shout, guns primed and taking deadly aim. There's no more running. You raise your hands. No point in fighting now, especially when the safest place may be with them. The Dinami will have to bend over to learn where you are and go even farther in hopes of getting access to you. Your attention shifts to $hound who isn't exactly thinking the same as you. You issue commands through your clicks, hoping the aiczeots will settle before they choose it's better to shoot him. Thankfully, he does as you command, but anyone who gets close will probably set him off. "On the ground. Get on the ground," they yell, and you comply. You can hear their heavy boots growing closer, and once there, one carefully places cuffs on you while the other ensures you continue your compliance. Once on your feet, they pat you down, removing anything they find to be evidence or dangerous. <<if $idle is not "nothing">>You almost want to whimper when they grab your <<if $idle is "cig">>e-cig.<<elseif $idle is "pick">>remaining toothpicks.<<else>>candy.<</if>><</if>> "Tranq the aiczeots," you hear one of them say. [[Let them.|4.17LetThem]] [[Stop them.|4.17StopThem]]
There's no stopping them. You can scream all day, and it'll play out the exact same, $hound tranquilized and you being loaded into that waiting transporter a few feet away. So, you allow it. Wincing when the shot hits $hound. He lets out a long hiss, taking a few steps toward the shooter before falling unconscious. At least it was fast acting, you tell yourself, refusing to look at your downed companion. The officer guiding you leads you to the waiting prison transporter, helping you in before closing the doors. <<include "4.18">>
You open your mouth and try to move towards $hound, but it matters little. The officers near you ensure you can't move, and the tranquilizer has already been shot. "Where are you taking him?" you ask. The officer guiding you refuses to answer, far more concerned with leading you to the waiting prison transporter. "Shut up and get in." <<include "4.18">>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $ch4captured to true>> <</nobr>>\ The doors slam close, and the vehicle surges forward. Your best guess is that they'll take you to a holding area. There, you'll be given a speedy trial, then sentenced, processed, and transported to one of the prisons, maybe a camp, depending on the accusations. Everyone is silent, and it feels like a million daggers are being shot your way, but your attention is set mainly on the electric cuffs. Shabby, if you're to be honest. You've been in far worse, and if you still had all your mods, you could get out of these easily. But lamentably, you do not. Your glance finally rises, meeting that of the three Dinami members who had gotten grabbed before you arrived on the scene. Though they stare, they say nothing, at least proving to you that they're not completely stupid. Questions rest in their eyes, but they'll remain silent. They'll bite and swallow their tongues long before saying anything, just as the Dinami trained them. Trained you. A frown spreads across your face at the thought. [[They aren’t worth your life.|4.18NotWorthYourLife][$dinami -=3]] [[You as well … even now.|4.18YouAsWell][$dinami +=3]]
You always knew they weren't worth your life. You just never actually put much thought behind it. To not even act as if such a thought frightened you opened up far too many avenues for harsh retribution. So, most of your time has always been spent acting. Acting as if the Dinami scares you and that your life is theirs, more of the latter than the former. The Dinami does scare you, much in the same way an abusive parent would a child. Yet an excessive amount of hatred always managed to blur the lines and give way to a rise of, what feels like, conflicting emotions. The only time the pretense fell was in the presence of Tsering. He felt the same, if not stronger, and you never doubted that your thoughts were safe with him. You grimace and choose to end that line of thinking. Instead, you shift attention to the puerile plan developing within your mind. <<include "4.19">>
You can still feel their lessons directing you onto a path they’ve trained you to follow. How much better are you than those sitting across from you? If you were in their shoes, would you be making silent amends? There is no way out of this. They’re guilty, and on Taouron, that means years spent in a quiet cell made of hard-packed clay or going to work their hardy, unforgiving farmlands. You, on the other hand, have other plans. <<include "4.19">>
Nowadays, it seems like everything revolves around a plan … or three. Getting the solars to get out of the Outlands, how to get across the Spires, how to get into Taouron, and so on. If you are growing tired of it, you'll find no respite from it anytime soon. Until you reach your goals, plans will be made, amended, scrapped, and reconstructed. This specific plan concerns a particular clause found only on Crion, thanks to a certain bounty-hunting group calling the planet home. The Tebriri Nightwalkers are one of the most notorious government-funded bounty-hunting groups. You can think of a few other organizations that can give the Nightwalkers pause, but the keyword is few, and even then, the Nightwalkers can still hold their own. You can count how many times you've encountered them on one hand, and each time they made your job a headache. You're unable to speak for all of them, but those you ran into had always been strict on following their own tenets and code. Which mostly means that while you were sent to kill the mark, they were intent on bringing them in alive. The clause you're interested in exploiting states that criminals not guilty of heinous crimes can volunteer to take the trials to become a hunter instead of serving their sentence. Of course, there are a few rules that go along with such a decision. Otherwise, everyone would invoke it. But you are confident you'll beat the trial, become a Nightwalker, and get back on track. You don't have much choice. <a data-passage="4.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't believe this," Zihr mumbles, staring forward. That has to be a record of him remaining quiet about something he wants to castigate you on. Your mistake is that you let out a tired sigh as if inviting him to continue. "Are there even words to describe how irritating you are?" [[“Not in your limited vocabulary.”|4.20LimitedVocabulary]] [[“No one told you to come and help.”|4.20NoOneAsked]] [[“Good to see you too.”|4.20GoodToSeeYou]] [[“You want to talk about irritating?”|4.20Irritating]] [[“Aren't we supposed to be silent.”|4.20Silent]] [[“You do love cleaning my messes.”|4.20MyMesses]] [[“Please, Zihr, not now.”|4.20PleaseNotNow]] [[Ignore him.|4.20IgnoreHim]]
"Probably not in your limited vocabulary," you sigh. "See. Right there. You don't take anything seriously. We're heading towards who knows where, and you're acting like there's nothing wrong." "First off, we're heading towards a holding area. That's where they take you when you've been naughty." <<include "4.21">>
"No one told you to come and help. You could've stayed at a distance and watched everything go down. Don't blame any part of this on me when it was your decision." "Does it ever strike you that I wouldn't even need to make these decisions if you just learned to stop?" "Stop what?" "Stop everything." <<include "4.21">>
"It's great seeing you too, Zihr," you mutter, rolling your eyes. <<if $ticketforone>>\ "No," he snarls, "you don't get to say that after what you did to me and Checl. Fuck you." "And yet you came to help me." <<else>>\ "See. Right there. You don't take anything seriously. We're heading towards who knows where, and you're acting like there's nothing wrong." "We're heading towards a holding area," you inform. <</if>>\ <<include "4.21">>
"You want to talk about folks being irritating?" you question with a raised brow, "I'm only surprised that you choose now to finally say something. As soon as we were told to lie on the ground, I was waiting for you to start bitching." "Bitching!" "Yes, that is what I just said," you murmur, wishing this trip would come to an end. At least then, Zihr's attention would be placed on something else. <<include "4.21">>
You look over at the two armed guards that sit on the edge of the benches near the door. Their helmets make it impossible to see their expressions or even where they're looking. "Hey," you shout, "aren't we supposed to be silent? Mind enforcing that rule?" They say and do nothing, and though you're sure you can antagonize them enough to reinforce that idea, you decide against it. <<include "4.21">>
"Well, you do love cleaning my messes. One of your favorite pastimes, if I remember correctly." "And you do love making them." "My favorite pastime," you state, faking a smile as you roll your eyes and hope for the conversation to die there. <<include "4.21">>
"Zihr, please," you sigh, closing your eyes as you rest your head on the wall of the transport, "not now. I don't have the energy or mentality to do this right now." You'd like nothing more than this ride to come to an end. At least then, Zihr's attention would be placed on something else. <<include "4.21">>
You remain silent, but he seems to refuse to let you have any that. <<include "4.21">>
<<if hasVisited("4.20NoOneAsked")>>He nods before saying, "but you're right, I<<else>>"I<</if>> shouldn't have helped. I should've just left you alone. You were doing fine on your own." "How did you even know where I was?" "I heard a commotion, and who else could it have been but the one person I know who craves chaos." <<if $cp>>\ "Told you," Checl mutters from her spot. <</if>>\ "Can we not do the whole 'jump on $name' right now? I'd appreciate it." <<if $ticketforone>>\ "You deserve far worse after what you did. Count yourself lucky that I'm wearing these cuffs right now." "I did what I had to do. The fact that you guys acted surprised should be more of the subject of conversation." "You're right," he nods, <<if $cp>>while Checl glances off to the side, <</if>>"I won't make that mistake again." There is little else to say after that, so you remain silent, gazing at nothing in particular as you patiently wait for this ride to end. <<else>>\ "Then let's talk about what you hoped for here? Was all of this needed?" Your eyes fall on the Dinami members sitting directly in front of you, gazes resting on you and waiting for an answer. You simply sigh and avert your gaze, waiting for this ride to end. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The first thing you feel is the vehicle stop, followed by someone hitting the transport doors. Both guards rise, and the doors open, letting the harsh light of Crion's evening stream in. "Let's go. You three first," the guard says to the Dinami members. They march out, and then <<if $cp>>the three of you join them<<else>>you and Zihr follow close behind<</if>>. This isn't Taouron, you think to yourself, continuing to examine your surroundings. It also isn't Tebriri, a fact you are confident in. The buildings aren't tall and extravagant enough to be the capital, nor are the streets familiar to what you remembered from your last time in the specific sector. "Move," one of the guards shouts to you, and when you look around, you realize that you are indeed behind. "Where are we?" "Phante," they tell you. Perhaps you rode through this sector, but you can't recall if you ever spent much time here. You know more about Talke, the agricultural sector, and you never even visited the area. It doesn't mean much now with you being led into the holding and trial building. <a data-passage="4.22.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You haven't been on Genesis for a while, but you wonder if it has shifted its architecture to match places like this. Back home, courtrooms and jails are separate. Out here, you learned that they are practically one and the same. For those going through a speedy trial, they send you to a holding cell. But for those facing far more complicated or extreme charges, they keep you beneath the building in holding pods. You've never been in one, but you've met plenty of Dinami who have, and they all speak of a sense of peace that comes with it. Suspended in time until they wake you for the trial. Time is rendered obsolete before they wake you, and then it slams into you like a steel wall. Thankfully, yours is simple. No one died as far as they know, and the captured Dinami members will say nothing, assuring that the happenings in the bunker stay there. Knowing the Dinami, they already sent a clean-up crew forth. Or they'll just let others clean the mess up. Both are equally possible. The guards walk you all into a holding cell and enact a barely visible force field. Once erected, they walk off, leaving the <<if $cp>>six<<else>>five<</if>> of you in total silence. [[Place your attention on Zihr.|4.22ZihrTalk]] [[Go to the Dinami members.|4.22DinamiTalk]] <<if $cp>>[[Check on Checl.|4.22CheclTalk]]<</if>>
Zihr heads straight to one of the two benches, the three Dinami members to the other<<if $cp>>, and Checl remains standing, pacing the short length of the cell<</if>>. Your attention is drawn to Zihr, though. He sits with his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes but remaining silent on his feelings. At any moment you prepare yourself to hear a rant about how this is all your fault and how you feen for chaos and trouble. Maybe, it's true. He wouldn't be the first to make the comparison and you doubt he'll be the last. Maybe there is no true reason or excuse, perhaps you simply are attracted to what it entails. "So do you have a plan for this too? Or is this that improvising phase?" he asks, finally sitting up. "I have a plan." "Mind sharing it then?" You instinctively glance over at the Dinami who are all waiting patiently, each of their eyes trained on you. "No. Not in this company anyway." "So, <<if $cp>>we're<<else>>I'm<</if>> just supposed to trust you?" "I would never presume anything more than toleration on your part. But unless you have a better idea forming in those antennas, I'm the only one being proactive." The fury that lights up his face as he stares at you almost causes you to shift uncomfortably—almost. <<if $ticketforone>>\ "Stop talking. The more you talk, the more I want to punch you for all the shit that you've done." <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Don't threaten me with a good time.”|4.22ThreatenMeWithAGoodTime][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Don't threaten me with a good time.”|4.22ThreatenMeWithAGoodTime][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>> [[“A sentiment I share.”|4.22Sentiment]] [[“Do you want me to apologize?”|4.22Apologize]] [[“Try it.”|4.22TryIt]] <<else>>\ "So, just sit here and be a good little raza, is that it?" <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Can you be a good boy?”|4.22GoodBoy][$zihrRo +=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Can you be a good boy?”|4.22GoodBoy][$zihrRo +=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Trust me.”|4.22TrustMe][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Trust me.”|4.22TrustMe][$zihrRo -=3; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Quiet too.”|4.22QuietToo]] [[“One should be so lucky.”|4.22ShouldBeSoLucky]] [[Ignore him.|4.22IgnoreHim]] <</if>>\
"Careful, Zihr. You'll find that I regard a threat like that as fun," you shrug, "supply some drinks and good music, and I don't see it as much of a threat at all." He scowls, "what is wrong with you?" "You can't blame me for liking a bit of rough play," you snort, leaning closer to him and causing him to automatically back away, "and I have a feeling you'd be really obedient in bed. Opposite of like you are now anyway. But still very much obedient." Despite his anger, or perhaps fueled by it, the tips of his ears turn darker, and he glares at you but with nothing more to say. //Good//, you think to yourself as you straighten and turn away. He'll probably bring up how much he wants to punch you again in the future, but that has been dealt with for now, and you have bigger things to keep your concentration. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"A sentiment that I share as well. Trust me." "Then act on it," Zihr growls, looking ready to burst up from his seat to approach you. A roll of your eyes calms him down, "to what end? I punch you, you try to land a shot, and we remain sitting here with nothing solved, just more animosity towards the other." "Try?!" "The point is," you groan, "that we can handle this when we get out of here. But this is neither the time nor place for it. So shut up and get over yourself for the time being." To further your point, you turn away from him and focus on the force field and what lies beyond. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What do you want me to do, Zihr? Apologize?" "No," he scoffs, "because I know you won't mean it." "Don't make the mistake of believing that you know me so well that you can say that," you say in an even tone. Perhaps he's shocked that you answered in such a way, or he may just have no good comeback. For whatever reason, he remains silent and seems to allow the moment to pass. You're not sorry for what you did. That much you know and have come to terms with. You saw a way to further your goal, so you took it. Never will you be sorry for that. But you are sorry that it happened to them. The memory of how you ended up in the Outlands comes back to you. It seems this is becoming a habit of yours. And that is where you leave that thought. No sense in contemplating what you do not wish to change, especially now. Other things deserve your attention. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"How about you stop saying how bad you want to do it and just do it already. But it won't be given to you freely. If you want it so bad, then your lazy ass can work for it." <<if $cp>>\ "Understood," he growls, getting to his feet just as Checl finds her way between the two of you. "Stop it!" she shouts, "you're both acting like hatchlings." "Do you forget what ?he did to us outside the wall?" Zihr asks. "Of course not, but can we act like we didn't see it coming?" You frown, not knowing how to take that part exactly. "No. I didn't," Zihr's gaze rises to meet you, "I knew ?he <<verb "was">> as ass, but I didn't figure ?him to be a kursur." Despite your chip being unable to translate the word, you know exactly what he says and what it means. You almost push Checl out of the way to grab him, your anger involuntarily calling upon a mix of fire and blood that should be resting. //Calm down before you bring this cell down//. Instead of continuing this pointless argument, you turn and place your attention on the force field. You know this isn't the end, but you will put it to the side for now. <<else>>\ "Understood," he growls, getting to his feet and approaching. He winds up, and you prepare a counter right as both of your cuffs spark to life and send a quick electric jolt through your body. You're not caught off guard as much as Zihr is. At most, you forgot this to be a function. "Knock it off, both of you," a guard shouts, "that's your only warning." Fighting Zihr in here will just make matters worse out there. There are only so many misdemeanors one can have before they automatically elevate it up to a petty felony. Then, you're back to the drawing board, only the board has become much smaller in size. Giving him one last warning glare, you turn and focus on the force field. You know this isn't the end, but you will place it to the side for now. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He probably doesn't understand half the things he says and how he sets himself up for responses like yours. Luckily, you're here to instruct him. "That depends," you smirk, leaning on the wall near the bench, "can you be a good boy and do what I say?" "What do I look like?" "Not a good boy," you bellow out, enjoying this innocent—on his part anyway—back and forth. <<if $cp>>Checl lets out a lengthy sigh that grabs Zihr's attention, finally understanding that something is wrong and he's being made the joke of it.<<else>>One of the Dinami members lets out a low chuckle and murmurs something under their voice, gazing at Zihr to make it clear that he is the object of their ridicule.<</if>> "What?" he questions, glancing between the two of you. You almost wish to reach out and grab one of his bouncy curls, twirling it around your finger and pulling just hard enough to regain his focus. But something inside you not only chides you on the thought but also warns you to curb your tone and behavior. How easy would it be to let your inhibitions collapse and soak in the moment of being in his company? You never believed Zihr to be unattractive; quite the opposite. If anything, his personality is what puts you off, and even then, he still has a couple of golden traits and strengths that keep you invested. //Stop it//, you mentally think, pushing yourself off the wall and away from the still befuddled raza. Drop it and focus. Drop it … and focus. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"No," you sigh, "I would never expect you capable of that." Before he can get in another statement, you continue, "but I do ask that you trust me. Even if you think all of this is just to serve myself. Trust that I will get us out of here, even if for my own sake." "Is it?" "What?" "To serve yourself? Or do you care about getting someone other than yourself out?" "I know you have this preconceived idea of me being self-serving, and maybe you're right. But I don't lead other people into my mess and have them expect me to leave them. That's not how I do things." "At least you admit your part in all this," he says softly, "that's something at the very least." "Zihr …" your mouth closes as a dozen words come to mind, but your brain filters each out, tossing them to the side like pests. What can you say to get him to realize that hurting him has never been your intention, even though you keep doing it? Maybe the simple truth is that you are as self-serving as everyone states. You have one goal: to get what you want; damn those who stand in your way. You've practiced this for so long that it's odd to think that one person may have shifted your feelings on the matter. No, it's not strange; it's dangerous. You never complete what you say, taking your attention off him and placing it on the force field and what lies beyond. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Quiet as well. You can't forget about being quiet. So quiet, in fact, that most will forget you're even there." "Fuck you." "Such vulgarity," you tease with a smirk, ending the conversation there primarily due to no longer caring to continue it. Arguing with Zihr feels more like a continuous cycle than something that will find a conclusion. <<include "4.23">>
You snort, turning your back to him and placing it on the force field, "one should be so lucky." Zihr will blame you simply because that is what he does, and you will work to get you all out of here. You'd be interested if you got some kind of apology afterward. Highly unlikely. <<include "4.23">>
There's not much left to say to him, or at least anything worthwhile that will see him on your side. What you must focus on is what is to come. And so, your attention drifts to the force field and all that lies beyond. <<include "4.23">>
"What's going to happen to us?" Checl whispers, her eyes widening in fear as you move closer. "We'll be given a speedy trial," you tell her, "they'll review our crimes and then render judgment." "But what about innocence?" You swallow a chuckle, gazing from her to everyone else in the cell. "Which of us do you believe to be innocent?" "They must prove it," she argues. "They have a thousand cameras around the city," you remind her, "they have all the proof they need. Just be happy we did misdemeanors at best." "This is how this all ends," Checl mumbles, her hands hovering inches from the force field, "we'll be sentenced and go to prison." "Checl," you sigh, hoping to stop her there. "And when we get out, that'll be on our record. A record all employees will have access to, and it'll never go away. It'll be like we're branded." "Checl." "What job can I even find with -" <a data-passage="4.22.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Checl!" you shout, <<if $checl_touch>>grabbing her arms to focus her attention solely on you<<else>>stepping into her path so that she would stop<</if>>, "don't I always get us out of stuff like this?" "Yes. But you're also the one who gets us into them." "Ditto," Zihr sighs from his spot. "That's beside the point. I get us out of these things. Trust me." <<if $ticketforone>>\ She stares at you for a moment longer before her face contorts into a grimace, <<if $checl_touch>>pulling away in disgust.<<else>>backing up a few steps so that you are no longer as close as you once were.<</if>> "Trust you? You have the nerve to ask me that after what you did to Zihr and me outside the wall?" "What did you expect me to do, Checl?" you question, "I saw a chance. I took it." "That's not what I'm mad about. It's not that you chose to leave us behind -" "It's not?" Zihr asks in confusion, Checl ignoring him as she continues. "It's the fact that you didn't even tell us. You could've told us that you were going to take it, and I at least would've understood. But no, you just pushed us out of the nest and expected us to fly without the wind to aid us." She shakes her head, "but that's my fault. You always told me not to trust anyone, and now I know why." She turns her back to you, marching over to the bench where Zihr sits and leaving you standing there. You feel as if you're on some stage, only you're in your underwear, and your audience all have some kind of grievance against you. Turning, you focus on the force field. You have a plan. It doesn't matter what others think. Even more, it's better this way. You'll have to leave them behind again, though if your plan does work out, you don't know when that will be. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ She stares into your eyes before nodding, "I trust you." <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Your hands linger on her shoulder.|4.22HandsLinger][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Your hands linger on her shoulder.|4.22HandsLinger][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Good.”|4.22Good][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Good.”|4.22Good][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $checl_touch>>\[[Ruffle her feathers.|4.22RuffleFeathers][$checl +=3]]<</if>>\ [[Nod.|4.22Nod]] [[“You failed.”|4.22Failed]] [[Give her a reprimanding look.|4.22ReprimandingLook][$checl -=3]] <</if>>\
Though the conversation has concluded, you find that your hands have yet to wander away from her shoulders, and in fact, a part of you wishes to bring her closer. Your heart feels like it's thudding harder than before, and the longer you stare into those large black orbs, the more you wish to lean in and cradle - You pull yourself away with a grunt and a scowl. Walking past her, you put all your attention on the force field and what rests beyond it. A glutton for punishment that is what you are. How many times must life teach you the lesson of trusting others and letting the //idea// of them sweep you into some fantastical psyche where it's possible to be with another. Maybe one day, just maybe. But that possibility relies on you opening yourself up and freeing yourself of the multiple burdens you decided to leash to your back. <<include "4.23">>
You nod, taking her chin in your hand, and say, "good girl." Her feathers stand on end, looking crazed and frazzled as she stares back at you with wide eyes. <<if hasVisited("2.03Embarrassment")>>"Getting embarrassed again, Checl?" you tease, and now her mandibles begin to quiver.<<else>>"Everything okay?" you chuckle.<</if>> She turns away and mumbles, "stop teasing." You begin to reach out to make her meet your eyes again, but you stop the action before you can complete it. What are you doing? There is teasing, and then there is what you're doing, and a line is crossed. You draw back, reprimanding yourself. Not only on your own movements but also on bringing up the word trust. You told her not to trust anyone, yet here you are, trying to ensure that she //does// trust the one person she'll find will break her heart. It's a cruel game you're playing, made worse by your knowledge of it being callous. Instead, you set your gaze on the force field, letting it and what lies beyond take up most of your attention. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Good," you sneer, ruffling her feathers, "then stop panicking and let me do what I do best." "Get us into more trouble?" Zihr mumbles from his seat, his gaze on the ceiling as if waiting for it to bestow upon him an answer. "Give ?him some credit," Checl tells him as she goes to sit beside him, "?he does get us out of things." Zihr looks at her bewilderedly, "is that all it takes? Ruffling your head feathers to get you to agree and back down?" Her smile twists into a frown, and you let out a soft chuckle, taking your attention off them and the foreshadowed squabble and placing it on the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "4.23">>
You nod in acceptance, abandoning her side to focus on the force field. You have a plan. You just need to implement it and hope your charges are not dire.
"That was a test," you smirk, moving away from her, "and you failed." "It seemed rude to say that I don't trust you and point out how many times I've gotten into situations like this because of you." "But it's warranted," you shrug, a smirk forming, "though I could always point out your refusal to stay away and forcing me to bring you along." She snorts as she heads back to the seat beside Zihr, "no one can force you to do anything, $name. I learned that a long time ago." Your smile lingers only for so long before circumstance, and the past creeps in and causes it to fade. You then move your attention to the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "4.23">>
You choose against verbally reprimanding her and simply give her a look. She rolls her eyes, walking over to Zihr and ending any conversation there. You then move your attention to the force field and what lies beyond. <<include "4.23">>
Getting them to speak to you is a long shot. In fact, you're not even sure what information you need from them. But the chance that one of them may be able to help you fill in the blanks of what has taken place in the last year feels needed, perhaps even crucial. They all stiffen when you get to them, but none make eye contact. "I know how fast ash falls from a single dead tree underneath bright, cloudless skies. And it remains buried." They now look at you, mixed expressions roaming from hatred to confusion. "Yea," you nod, "I'm one of you." "Is that what you told those in the bunker, $name?" A raza woman on the far side of the bench questions. "You know me?" "Not all of us are the lower echelon." The other two send her snarls but remain silent. "Then you can fill in some of the gaps." "What makes you think I care too? You //were// Dinami, but no longer. The only reason you're not dead is because we all got caught." "Oh, and you were going to be the one to make sure that happens?" She leans forward with a smirk. "Just because you have those odd little spots on your face doesn't make you special." [[You see red.|4.22Red]] [[Let her continue.|4.22Continue]]
Before you can completely temper your emotions, you're lunging forward, ramming your elbow into the woman's face, and listening to her shout in shock more than pain. She grabs your handcuffed wrists, and so you use your head. You back up, ready to ram your foot into her face, but your handcuffs send an electric current racing through your body, and you are forced to stop. You pant as you back away from her, the officers not bothering to shout for you to calm down as they have your obedience in their hands. "What the fuck was that?" Zihr hisses, but you ignore him, trying to calm your racing heart. In a way, you're not exactly sure what caused you to react the way you did. Perhaps the recent release of your flare has you on edge. You don't really have a suitable reason, but you also can't deny the fact that it felt good. No one checks on the raza. The other Dinami barely shifted when you attacked her, used to such random acts of violence. Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl glance<<else>>glance<</if>> at her with concern but do nothing as well. When she recovers enough, she stares daggers at you, perhaps pondering if she should repay you for her now broken nose and bleeding lip. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Despite the sudden surge of anger, you dampen it, tempering your nerves and allowing her to continue talking. "A dirt eater will always be just that. That bounty on your head is pretty sizeable, and once the Dinami realizes you're alive, you'll never know a moment of peace." The more she speaks, the more you can feel yourself being dragged into a petty back and forth that will get you nothing in the end. Most of your chip's functions are off, leaving nothing but basic aids and translation available. But you don't know if Dinami-issued chips have secret operations or can still record even within anti-chip locations such as this one. You rise, ending the conversation there. If the Dinami does come to visit and dispose of them, they'll do so only after backing up all the files from their chips. They'll see you. They'll have a lead. But this is all hypothetical. Hopefully, the anti-chip protections actually do their job. <a data-passage="4.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Alright," a guard voices, the force field of the cell coming down as two of them step forward. "Time for your judgment." They walk you out in a line, down a few halls, until you end up in a medium-sized room with limited seating and a table with a klyc sitting behind it. It's been a while since you've seen one, and at the moment, you wish your readouts were functional to remember the details of the amphibious-like creature. Mostly to figure out why one of them would call a desert planet home. Apart from them, the only other people in attendance are two official figures sitting in the back. They eye each of you but say nothing. The doors close, and you stand before the klyc, waiting for your charges to be read. You've never been in this exact spot. Seen it happen, even attended others, but never personally stood in the spot with hands cuffed. There's an air of finality, even though you're confident in your way out. Something deep within warns you that one day you may stand here and not have a way out. That one day, all your plans will be used up, and luck will not see you through. "Alright," the klyc says in a bored tone, probably ready to end what may have already been a long work day. "Read the charges for $name Moran." A robotic voice overhead chimes in, "Disruption of peace. Endangering the public. Violation of numerous safety laws. Destruction of public and private property. Evading authority." You're surprised they haven't said murder but that's probably due to them having no idea of what happened in the bunker. You can still go through the trial with a murder charge, maybe even two. But any more than that and it'll be automatic sentencing, no way out. Once done, the robotic voice quiets down, and the judge mumbles something before looking up. <a data-passage="4.24"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is there anything you wish to say before your sentencing?" "Yes," you speak, "I'd like to take the Nightwalkers Trial." The judge nods, never shedding the layer of tiredness they had possessed earlier. "And with this trial, do you understand the new terms that come with it." "I do." "Alright, read the charges for Zihr Highstrider." Again the robot chimes in, "Disruption of peace. Endangering the public. Evading authority." The judge asks the same question they asked you, and though Zihr is slower to speak, he repeats your words. And thus, the judge moves on to the next, <<if $cp>>Checl following suit<</if>> while the Dinami simply accepts their sentencing. And this is how you saw this playing out. The Dinami members have little choice. If they said they wished to do the trials, they would pass, no doubt. In the Dinami, all of you, even the weakest, are tortured with gruesome tests until you are nothing more than a hollow shell, clawing for a piece of what once made you an individual. You doubt there's a test out there that you all would fail, save for a psych eval. But that wouldn't save the Dinami members. You're on the run, dead to many, so you are free to do as you wish. And that is the keyword, free. They are still slaves to the organization, as you once were. The Dinami will track them down and kill them for mutinous conduct. No amount of excuses will change their minds, and it wouldn't matter if they were one of the top members or lower ranked. [[A surge of pity races through you. You know how they feel.|4.25][$dinami +=3]] [[Consequences be damned. If they wanted freedom they would take it.|4.25][$dinami -=3]]
The judge is quiet for a moment longer before nodding. "Very well. Nightwalkers, please take these <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>>. Now, for the rest of you …" You stop listening as your attention moves to the only two people in the room. One rises while the other stays put, nodding to the door before walking out. You follow. "What did you do?" Zihr questions. "Does it matter? You followed." "Because I thought this was your brilliant escape plan. Is it or is it not?" [[Tell him.|4.25TellHim][$zihrLo +=1]] [[Don't tell him.|4.25DontTell]]
You have a bit of time before your escort tells you to keep walking, you surmise. <<if $cp>>You stop and turn to face Zihr and Checl.<<else>>Turning to Zihr, you sigh.<</if>> "The Nightwalkers are a bounty-hunting group. I traded jail time for service." "So we're on the way to join a bounty-hunting group?" "Yes." "And that's it?" "No. There's a trade-off, can't make it too easy, or all criminals would be doing the same. The trials -" "Hey!" the escort yells. "Keep moving, or you'll find yourself facing your undisclosed verdict." You spare <<if $cp>>the two of them<<else>>him<</if>> a look before doing what you are told. <a data-passage="4.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Are you being led to a holding cell or jail right now?" "No," he answers, "but I feel like I'm being led somewhere far worse." He walks ahead of you, <<if $cp>>leaving Checl to catch up and walk in tandem with you now. <<if $ticketforone>>But she doesn't linger. One look, and she moves to pass you as well.<<else>>She gives you a half-smile, a sort of reassurance that following you is still in her best interest. You're unsure if that's the case, but you didn't force her hand. You didn't force either of them.<</if>><<else>>leaving you to walk alone. If he's mad now, he'll be twice as upset when he learns what strings are attached to your latest plan.<</if>> <a data-passage="4.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Outside, a transport van waits for you, and, like earlier, you find yourself sitting in the back. Only when you look at others who have agreed to risk the trial do you realize your cuffs still adorn your wrists. Perhaps it's a precaution. Smart, you're not sure you would've tried to escape, but if you had figured it out sooner, you might have contemplated the risks versus rewards. You need the Nightwalkers, though. Not only do you need their access, but also the protection that will blanket you once you're brought into their ranks. As far as you know, hunts aren't broadcasted. The Dinami will have to be patient. Besides you<<if $cp>>, Zihr, and Checl<<else>> and Zihr<</if>>, there are six other prisoners. Some sit stone-faced, staring at nothing, while others fidget in their seats, already beginning to doubt their decision. You'll be interested in learning how many of you will pass and how many prisoners have in the past. Also, your curiosity stretches to how much they know about this. You know <<if $cp>>Zihr and Checl know next to nothing<<else>>Zihr knows next to nothing<</if>> about what is to come, but how about them. Did they simply know about the clause but not all that comes with it. What are they risking if they fail, and even more if they pass? You will soon see, you tell yourself, closing your eyes and waiting to reach wherever this step of your journey takes you. <a data-passage="4.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You step off the prison transporter for what you hope will be the last time. In a way, you feel like you're trading one stern organization in for another, but sometimes an individual may find no other way. You doubt it'll take the Dinami long to figure out what happened to you. If you're not in prison like the others, then the only other option is this. You're simply hoping that wherever the bounty hunters send you is a place the Dinami will have to work to gain knowledge of. At the very least, you gained a head start. Now you must maintain it. "Follow me," your escort speaks, beckoning you into the closest building. You appear in a room that looks awfully like the waiting room you found yourself in when first arriving in Taouron. Only, this building doesn't have some educational video playing, and there are a lot more chairs facing a lectern. Almost all the chairs but two are taken, and thanks to your entrance, all eyes have shifted to your group. Recruits, you surmise after looking them all over. Different ages and different kinds of experiences to bolster them through life, but all recruits willing to try their hand at joining the Nightwalkers. You're guided over to the chairs, but two other convicts take the seat before you get to them. And so, your group and a few others file in and stand behind them. "They open this to convicts?" you can hear someone whisper, but due to seeing only the backs of everyone's heads, you can't tell who. "Yea," another voice answers, "depends on the crime." "Ridiculous." The door you're facing opens, and a tall raza steps up, looking everyone in attendance over before nodding their head. <a data-passage="4.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Welcome to the Nightwalker Trials. I am Aven, and will be your proctor for today's trials. For those who didn't do proper research, the Tebriri Nightwalkers is a bounty-hunting organization comprised of some of the most talented hunters in various disciplines and fields. We cover all three branches of hunting: monster, bounty, and treasure. This trial, as a whole, allows us to figure out your ranking, specialties, and physical and mental condition. Those of you here hoping to get out of sentencing should be reminded that if you fail, your final score will be added to the years of your final sentencing." <<if $cp>>\ "Wait," Checl whispers, her frown growing in size as she moves closer to you. "Are they saying what I think they are?" You shrug. "Probably." "What is it that you think they're saying?" Zihr inquires. "The closer you are to succeeding, the more prison time you get unless you actually pass." <<else>>\ "What does that mean?" Zihr questions. "If you just barely pass, you'll get more prison time than if you epically failed." He seems confused for a touch longer before his eyes light up with realization. <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("4.25TellHim")>>\ "Is that what you were going to tell us back at the trial?" he questions and you nod. "And this was worth it?" "It is if you pass." "Did you weigh the chances of failure?" "For me? There are none." "Cocky." You suppress a growl. "No. I just know my own past and I've been put through far worse than this." He says nothing more but his expression tells you that his initial observation has not changed. <<else>>\ <<if $cp>>You close your eyes, so perfectly seeing Zihr's face right now and who his eyes are glaring at.<<else>>And you disengage. You can already picture Zihr's face right now and you're not in the mood to deal with it.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You place your attention back on Aven. "Your first two tests include a physical and psych eval. If you fail either of these, you will no longer be permitted to take the rest of the tests. Convicts, you may continue if you fail the physical, but only so we can supply you with an honest score. If you fail the psych evaluation, on the other hand, you will be given the previously stated sentence. Once done, you will be directed to a lobby to await the final two tests. I look forward to seeing you all there." As Aven steps down, a second steps up and silently beckons you to follow. Your motley procession is led to a hall that branches off into multiple rooms, and there they split you up into four large groups. From what you can see, the individual goes from the physical straight to the mental evaluation, which is done in a separate, more contained room. After, they seem to disappear through a door and appear on the other side of the glass as they walk down a hall toward what you surmise is the lobby they spoke of earlier. You're not worried about the physical; you and your companions are more than prepared. But the mental evaluation, you're not so sure about. These tests have a knack for scratching walls surrounding memories needing to be left alone. The last thing you want or need is for the test to come back with sporadic data about how it believes you are unfit due to past trauma. <a data-passage="4.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Next." You see that you are indeed next in line and allow yourself to focus on this, no matter how minuscule it feels. The physical is like any other. They mostly scan you, do a few physical tests, and then get some data from your chip. In the past, physicals were much more hands-on, but now technology has done away with that, especially when it can detect things no physician could. Once done, you walk to the test that actually causes you to doubt. A nurse approaches and directs you to a chair, sticking a few things onto your forehead and arms before pressing a few buttons. "This will put you under for approximately five minutes," the nurse tells you, preparing your skin for the needle. "Don't fight the effects. Just relax and let everything happen naturally. Okay?" You nod, steeling yourself for something you've been trained to resist. The Dinami are nothing if not thorough in their torture. Countless times have they done something similar, only their goal was to learn what you feared and bring it to life. To break down your psyche so that they can build it up how they wish. Ultimately, your final test was to fight the effects of drugs like these. To close yourself off so that tests come back either with a false positive or with nothing to show. [[Something you will do here.|4.30NoEntry]] [[You'll let them in.|4.30LetThemIn]]
You have no intention of letting them see what kind of state you're in. Especially since you're not even sure of what it looks like. The problems that haunt you are for you only, your burden to carry and bear. The last thing you want is for some expendable organization to start asking questions, especially when they'll have plenty to mull over by the end of all this. <<include "4.31">>
Shutting them out is simple but will raise many red flags if the results come back blank instead of rendering a false positive. The questions you'll be bombarded with will be ones you won't be able to answer; therefore, the scrutiny placed upon you will only heighten. So, the only path you can see is the one that allows them to see your stability. <<include "4.31">>
"Ready," the nurse states just before injecting you. You relax in the chair, your eyes closing on their own accord. <<if hasVisited("4.30NoEntry")>>Closing yourself off to whatever probing is to come is an easier task than you originally thought. But that shouldn't surprise you, not after learning it by the Dinami's forceful hand. You can feel the effects of the drug, but what should feel like a tsunami wave washing over you feels more like a calm wave sloshing around your ankles before retreating. Five minutes is a long time, but keeping this block up neither tires you nor causes stress. And it's the least you can do to get this over with.<<else>>You remember what it feels like to be under drugs like this, a calming yet trapped sensation that makes you want to thrash against nonexistent bindings. You can hear a small boy shout in the distance, and your heart hammers in your throat as he calls for his mother, a spine-chilling scream soon following. The feeling of a small and warm hand trapped between your own causes you to glance down at them, only for you to hiss at the sight of blood. At first, you believe it's someone else's blood, but as it builds up, you know that's a lie. You scream out as your limbs suddenly feel like something is squeezing and pulling them in multiple directions. The feeling of electricity jabbing into your back and sending a current through your entire body. Your head pounds as your vision grows blurry, and wind speeds past you, falling. You're falling.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.30NoEntry")>>\ Finally, the effects wear off, and your eyes drift open. You won't be sure what the computer was able to get. That is always the tricky part and one wholly out of your hands. But you're released, and you head out to the lobby they direct you towards. <<else>>\ The effects wear off, but the headache you sustained shows no sign of following. "Are you alright?" the nurse questions, and you wave her away as you slowly rise. You should've known what your subconscious would throw at you; it was foolish not to be more prepared. Someone in denial would say they are fine; you know better than that. You have grappled with the symptoms of PTSD too many times for you to think that it doesn't hold you on the end of its leash, whispering cruel half-truths into your ear. Hopefully, the tests won't show half of what you experienced. They release you, and you head out to the lobby they direct you towards. <</if>>\ Due to you being a convict, your group is the last to go through, so when you enter the lobby, almost everyone else is already there, and the wait to begin the next part arrives quickly. Seeing that no one has come up to you to tell you that you will be excused, you believe you passed the evaluation. Everything else will be as simple as the physical, meaning you can start planning for what will come after all this. <a data-passage="4.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Congratulations to all of you who passed the first two tests," Proctor Aven speaks, gaining the attention of the lobby. "Your physical health and mental well-being are integral to your success and will always be one of our primary goals. You will learn more if you join our ranks, but these two tests are ones you should become acquainted with. This will not be the last time you take them. The next two tests will find you in groups of four and focus solely on your skill set. The third test is a skill showcase. Each group will be presented with the opportunity to showcase their skills to the evaluators. More information when your group enters the room. The fourth test is a scrimmage. After the third test, evaluators will pit you against one of the four in your group, and in front of all, you will go head to head. Losing the combat test does not guarantee failing so try your hardest even if you doubt your chances of victory." Aven takes a moment to let this information sink in before motioning for a few guides to step up. "When you hear your name, walk to the appropriate guide." <a data-passage="4.32.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Initially, you believe they'll split you up based on where you're currently standing or even regular civilians versus convicts, but when they call Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl to separate groups<<else>>to a separate group<</if>>, you decide your original thoughts may be wrong, leaving you with a lack of ideas. Your newly formed group now consists of a female vetix, or at least you believe so. Their species has little in the way of sexual dimorphism, and though Tsering has shown you what to look for, it has hardly helped. One other is a raza, and as the last member of your four-person group is called, your eyes grow in amazement. "Greetings," it says with a tinny-sounding voice, hands raised as if surrendering, but you surmise that it believes it is attempting to wave. You blink several times, telling yourself you're wrong, but no, it stands before you. A draqe. Out here? Taking a bounty hunter trial, no less? "Problem?" it asks all of you, the clangorous sound never fading. It causes you to flinch, reminding you of someone taking a sharp knife and scraping it across metal. The raza curls its upper lip in disgust before turning to your guide. "I don't know how you set up these groups, but I'm obviously in the wrong one. Why am I paired with a malfunctioning droid, a horned-barmy, and …" They turn to spare you a look. "Whatever the fuck that's meant to be." [[“Fuck around and you'll find out.”|4.32FuckAround]] [[“Done acting like an ass?”|4.32DoneActing]] [[Ignore them.|4.32IgnoreThem]]
"Fuck around, and you'll end up finding out." "Are you threatening me?" "You can call it whatever you like. I simply want to see you try me," you snort. <<include "4.33">>
"Are you going to be acting like an ass this entire time?" <<include "4.33">>
You're not in the mindset to deal with them. In fact, you find them foolish for even bringing attention to themselves in such a way after Aven said that you'll be fighting another in your group. The draqe probably doesn't care, but you can at least tell that you and the vetix wouldn't mind being paired up with them. <<include "4.33">>
"Quiet," the guide hushes, rolling their eyes. "Or you'll miss out on information I won't answer later." With all the groups now established, Aven speaks once again. "These two tests are vital to your final score. Failure here will cause you to fail the test entirely. So, do what you know best, and for those who do not like showing off, ignore that tendency; you'll need to do so here. Good luck." The guide looks to you as one group is ushered out of the room and says, "For now, you'll wait here. Socialize if you wish, but it will be your turn when I call for you." No sooner do those words leave the guide's mouth that the raza walks off, heading to three others. The vetix stretches and takes a seat near the waiting guide, leaving you and the draqe alone. It's not a fact you're put off by, and you can't help but stare. <a data-passage="4.33.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Draqe are primarily solitary, not part of the Coalition, and keeping to themselves in their home system. You've heard very little, and that which you do know seems quite useless when dealing with an aberrant draqe. At most, you know they work on a hive mind type of system and that there are only two different versions, with one leading and the other following. Aberrants are rare. How rare, you don't know, but scarce enough for them to earn their name. "I gotta say," you start, "I'm just shocked to see one of you here." "Aberrant?" "Yea, no shit," you snort. Despite knowing very little, you at least know what the light blue discoloring in its headpiece, wiring, and eyes means. Though that is about it. Anything more, and you enter a realm of speculation and conjecture. <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|4.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|4.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|4.34Q3]]<</if>>
"You got a name?" you inquire. "Designation. ELN-L593-NE0." You take a moment to repeat the hums and whirs that had just left the draqe's mouth. None of it makes much sense. Just sounds more akin to a melody than actual words as you know them. "Write it out." The draqe shows you its wrist terminal and reflected back is nothing but letters and numbers. So then its language is far from your comprehension, especially if numbers are part of their phonetics. You take a second glance at its name, narrowing your attention on the last bit, Ne0. Of course, the o is a zero, but you can at least work with that. "Mind if I call you Ne0?" "Welcomed." "Then I'm $name," you introduce. "Known." "You knew?" you question with a raised brow. "Analyzed upon meeting." "You analyzed me? Why?" "Curiosity." You sigh, suddenly feeling like your entire history had just been opened and viewed by the public, even though it had just been one draqe in reality. "Tension detected." Ne0 cocks its head as it regards you. "Upset?" [[“No more analyzing.”|4.34Q1.Analyzing]] [[“What did you find?”|4.34Q1.WhatDidYouFind]] [[“Ask first.”|4.34Q1.AskFirst]]
"No more random analyzing." "Behavior unacceptable?" "To most, yes. It's an invasion of privacy." "Observation logged." <<if hasVisited("4.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|4.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|4.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1", "4.34Q2", "4.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|4.34]]<</if>>
"Discover anything interesting?" "Race: Terran. Error. Foreign DNA detected. Blood Type. Z3-Omega. Fertility -" "And that's enough. I said interesting, not basic." "Comprehension failure. Query. Define basic." "Boring. Bland. Stuff no one really cares to know about." Ne0 stares at you, and you're worried you probably broke its brain. For what feels like an entire minute, it does nothing more than stare ahead, a void look behind eyes that give nothing away in the first place. <<if hasVisited("4.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|4.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|4.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1", "4.34Q2", "4.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|4.34]]<</if>>
"Bothered is more appropriate." "Broad emotional range." "Sure. Just ask before you decide to analyze someone next time, okay?" "Observation logged." <<if hasVisited("4.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|4.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|4.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1", "4.34Q2", "4.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|4.34]]<</if>>
"So, how long have you been aberrant?" "Terran terminology. Three months." "Whoa, that's …" Your frown deepens as you ponder its words. "And how long have you been … around?" "Unknown." "Unknown? Did you forget?" "Correct." "So you could be six hundred years old, but because of whatever happened to make you aberrant, you don't remember anything?" "Correct." "You remember nothing?" "No." You can think of a few people who would love to have something like that happen to them, forgetting all and starting new. "Is there any way to get that information back?" It lowers it's head and seems to focus on something else. You almost want to label the action as sadness. "Unknown." <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|4.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q3")>>“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”<<else>>[[“What's the main differences between a normal and aberrant draqe?”|4.34Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1", "4.34Q2", "4.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|4.34]]<</if>>
"So, what's the differences between you and a normal draqe? I can see that there's a color difference. Other draqe are gold, right?" "Correct. Lack of personal knowledge. Emotions. Freewill." "Wait, you have emotions?" "Not terran standards. Factual assessment." "So, can you fall in love?" "Unknown. Terran species. Unappealing." You're about to continue on when you hold your tongue, squinting at nothing in particular as you replay <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1")>>Ne0's<<else>>its<</if>> words. "<<if hasVisited("4.34Q1")>>Ne0, did<<else>>Did<</if>> you just call me ugly?" "Correction. Unappealing." "Yea. That means ugly, buddy." "Sentient being saying. Someone for everyone." "Yea," you draw out, patting its shoulder as you head towards a free table to sit. "We can drop it. But it's good to know that you understand the whole humor aspect." <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1")>>“What should I call you?”<<else>>[[“What should I call you?”|4.34Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q2")>>“How long have you been aberrant?”<<else>>[[“How long have you been aberrant?”|4.34Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.34Q1", "4.34Q2", "4.34Q3")>>[[No more questions.|4.34]]<</if>>
Seated at the table, you only look up when you notice Zihr <<if $cp>>and Checl <</if>>approaching the two of you. "New friend?" Zihr questions, giving Ne0 an odd look as he sits. "Ne0, Zihr<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>. Zihr<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>, Ne0." <<if $cp>>\ "Greetings," it says, turning its attention to Checl. "Species recognized. Zeach." "Yes," she starts, unsure where this conversation may go. You can hardly blame her. "Zeach species. Captivating." <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, so I'm ugly, but Checl is attractive? I see how it is, Ne0," you joke, causing Checl's feathers to ruffle as she tries to hide her face.<<else>>Checl seems even more confused and glances at you. You shrug. "I'm pretty sure it's calling you beautiful." "Affirmative." "Oh," Checl murmurs, her feathers showing embarrassment. "Thank you."<</if>> <<else>>\ "Greetings," it says, and Zihr nods in response. <</if>>\ Zihr then asks, "How are you feeling about your groups?" "I'd say fine if an aberrant draqe wasn't in mine," you state, jabbing your thumb in Ne0's direction. "How did they even run a physical and mental evaluation on you?" "Tests exist. Mental evaluation applicable. Diagnostics." You're unsure how that answers your questions since you want to know how, but you let it go. "Who'd win in a fight?" Zihr inquires. [[“I'd rather not find out.”|4.34RatherNotFindOut]] [[“I'm wondering the same thing.”|4.34WonderingSameThing]] [[“Probably Ne0.”|4.34NotMe]] [[“Easy, me.”|4.34EasyMe]]
"If I'm to be honest, I'd rather not find out. I'd much rather fight the vetix or the raza." "Information unknown," Ne0 answers, gazing over at you. "$name's skill set unknown." "So there's a chance?" Zihr continues to ask. "Yes. 34.4%." Zihr snorts, and you simply roll your eyes. You've beaten worse odds. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="4.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="4.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"I'm wondering the same thing," you turn to Ne0, "got an approximation?" "Yes. 34.4%." Zihr snorts, and you nod. You've beaten worse odds. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="4.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="4.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
Probably Ne0," you admit. "How much do you even weigh?" "166 kilograms." "See. How does one even fight against you?" you exclaim. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="4.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="4.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Easy," you shrug, "me." "Cocky," Zihr points out, but you wave that away. "Ne0 is a fresh aberrant, there's no way it knows how to fight, and there's a difference between defending yourself and actually fighting." "Yea, one sounds like it can kick your ass faster," Zihr smirks, but you leave it there. You'd be interested to see how that particular fight would play out. <<if $cp>>\ <a data-passage="4.34.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Before you or one of the others can strike up another conversation, your guide calls for you to return. "Good luck," Zihr tells you and you nod in thanks before leaving with Ne0. <a data-passage="4.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if $cp>>\ "I won't pass." Your attention shifts to Checl, who has been unnaturally quiet. She fiddles with her hands and talons, staring at the table. "What makes you say that?" "What skill set do I have for these next two tests? I definitely don't know how to fight. I won't be able to pass." Unfortunately, she's right. Checl has never fired a gun; as far as you know, she's never even held one. Being a zeach, she'll probably draw the evaluator's attention due to their own curiosity, and when she underperforms, they will be quick to score her low. Not because of the audacity she may possess for choosing this path but because they would rather her sit in jail than meet her end on the field because they were lenient. [[Offer advice. (This will keep Checl in the story permanently.)|4.34HelpChecl]] [[Leave it alone. (This will remove Checl from the story. She will not show back up.)|4.34LeaveChecl]] <</if>>\
You examine her for a bit longer, a plan forming in your head to aid her. It's not perfect, far from it, but it's the only one you can think of that has any chance of succeeding. "Alright, listen to what I tell you." She nods, moving in for greater effect. "Your biggest asset is your agility, so you're going to need to focus on that. Gymnastics, dodging, anything that focuses on you moving fast and smoothly. Do not grab a weapon. Focus on close-quarters combat and landing kicks if there's a dummy. When you fight, you avoid. Do not try to fight them. Tire them out; that's your focus. You do that until there's a clear opening or time runs out, okay?" "You think that'll work?" "It won't give you a top score. Some of the evaluators may even see through it, but it should get you a passing grade at the very least." She nods just as your guide yells for you to come over. <a data-passage="4.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You'll be fine." "Says the one who probably sees all this as just a warm-up." "There's not much you can do about it now but try your hardest, so that's what you'll do." She doesn't seem convinced but nods anyway. Either way, it doesn't matter because your guide yells for you to come over. <<include "4.35">>
Your group of four follows the guide to a room filled with multiple areas to get lost in. You spot a shooting range simulator, a few practice rings with a training dummy set up in the middle of each, a wall with a few consoles, a weight area, and a second simulator room whose purpose is unknown to you. It all feels strangely familiar. The layout differs, but the purpose is all the same. When you were in the Dinami, you and Tsering would drag others to areas like this under the guise of staying sharp. Secretly, both of you had selfish reasons. Not only could you keep an eye on those who may choose to backstab you, but you could also keep your own skills of perception and understanding sharp. Knowing how to fight is integral, but being able to watch another for possible weaknesses and exploits, not to mention doing such a thing quickly, is just as important. Any other time, the two of you did it to let off steam. After a particularly irritating or challenging target that provided little to no reward, you'd come to places like this and let routine and muscle memory take over. Your frown expands as you realize what you have been thinking of. [[It all leaves a bad taste in your mouth.|4.35LeavesBadTaste][$dinami -=2]] [[Sometimes … you just wish …|4.35JustWish][$dinami +=2]]
There are some memories you wish to part with. Whoever said things like this will make you stronger has obviously never been through it. It's debilitating. To feel anything but contempt after what happened seems like a wasted emotion, yet here you are. So many "happy" memories, and for what? What did they all mean? Because they damn sure didn't mean anything to Tsering. <<include "4.36">>
Living underneath the Dinami was hell, no doubt about it. But pockets of light filled those days where you questioned all of it. Pockets that felt worth something and caused you to feel like you finally found something you knew was missing but could never place a word to. Sometimes you wonder if it all had to end this way. You rarely like to look back and place what if's on situations, but this … well, this seems like an exception. <<include "4.36">>
"Alright, gather around," your guide commands, motioning to the room. "Welcome to the third test. Like Proctor Aven said before, this test allows you to show all your skills to the evaluators." They point to a tinted window that rests a story above you. "If you make it into our ranks, you can switch weapons or choose another class, but here, you should choose what you are familiar with. You have thirty minutes to show your skills. There is no fighting among each other, and any close combat will be had with the training dummy. One person per station. If you are interested in an occupied station, press the console next to each other, it will then begin a countdown. Once your thirty minutes are up, you'll be escorted to the final testing room for the scrimmage. There, I will also tell you who you will be up against. Good luck." The raza is the first to walk away, making a beeline for the shooting range. The vetix is next, stretching as she heads over to the training dummy and leaving you and Ne0 to figure out what you will do. You exchange a look with the draqe before figuring out where you wish to go. //You will only have three options. Choose wisely.// ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] [[The simulation room.|4.36SimulationRoom][$round +=1]]
You approach one of the consoles sitting against the wall and bring it to life. Overhead, a screen appears with a diagnostics of something or someone. "It's a hacking test," one of the helpers tells you, pointing to an offline robot. "Your goal is to find and isolate the virus and then repair the robot. Repair-wise, you can either do it by using the console's programming or manually attempt to do so. Either way, by the end of the exercise, it should be functional again, but you don't have to repair it due to time constraints." You nod your thanks, choosing to start the program and try your luck. <<if $tech >=5>>\ You're familiar with code, so this shouldn't be a problem. You're also interested in seeing how fast you can do this independently since your chip won't be able to assist you. The process starts with searching for the virus, but the more you scour the code, the longer you realize that this may take too much time. It won't be perfect, but if you can create a quick algorithm to better aid you, it'll save you time and be a bit more accurate. Time rushes by as you finish and execute it, hoping your skills don't disappoint. It's been a while since you've done something like this. You're not entirely sure if you'll be successful. The algorithm runs and delivers to you three possible issues. Looking through each one, you easily find and isolate the culprit, running the diagnostics and repair program next. "Systems online," the computer chimes. "Further repairs needed for functionality." Technically, repairing the robot is still in your field of knowledge, but you've already placed a good chunk of time into this. The question is if you wish to invest even more time. If you do, you'll have to do something more than just repair it. You'll have to upgrade the bot as well<<if $round >3>>, though you doubt you have time<</if>>. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[Repair the robot.|4.36Repair][$round +=1; $tech +=5; $smarts +=5]] [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] [[Repair the robot.|4.36Repair][$round +=1; $tech +=5; $smarts +=5]] <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You're not the best when it comes to tech, but you find no reason why that can't change. This exercise will at least give you a decent understanding atop of what you already know. The process starts with searching for the virus, but the more you scour the code, the longer you realize that this may take too much time. Lines of code begin to bleed into the next, and your interest in the activity dwindles with every line that you don't understand the meaning of. This is an entire language, and you're not fluent. Part of you wishes to just scroll down in hopes of finding a red error mark or something akin that will tell you the virus is there. What stops you? The understanding that this program probably doesn't hold something like that. You would've wasted time and your place when you could just continue like this. Thankfully, after a bit more scrolling, you find a line that looks odd to you and start isolating it. If you're wrong, you'll probably drive your fist through the terminal. Finally, you run the diagnostics and repair program. "Systems online," the computer chimes, "further repairs needed for functionality." You lazily gaze over at the robot. You've wasted enough time trying to find the virus and that you at least knew how to do, sorta. You have no idea how to fix a robot, so you turn and figure out what you wish to do next. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
Approaching the robot, you look it over, narrowing down all the areas that probably keep it from full functionality. Not really a complicated fix. It's your want to be able to upgrade the robot that will yield an issue. Glancing over <<if $round is 3>>at Ne0 who seems to be at ease with its task<<else>>your shoulder, you attempt to spot Ne0, wishing you could get its thoughts.<</if>> Now that you think about it, you wonder how many functions they had to turn off on Ne0 so that it was on equal footing with the rest of you. You'll probably ask later. Grabbing some gloves and protective glasses, you begin to tinker, reconnecting wires and sealing areas back up. A few spaces allow you to play with them more, keeping core programming intact but changing up different functions that will shift how the robot behaves. It's a mix of applying what you already know, learning about other parts, and applying guesswork and creativity to see what will happen. Finally, you take a step back and seal the last area. You head to the console and start the reboot system, hoping you did everything right. You've fiddled with tech before but never on this magnitude. "System reboot in process, standby." It repeats this phrase a few times before the robot shifts, standing at full height, "Robot 9302-2AD online. Awaiting orders." "Scan room," you direct. This was part of one of the only upgrades you could implement. It had the function already, but from what you could tell, it was elementary. Now, it should be able to tell you not only how many people are present but also what species they are. "Scan complete. Ten sentient beings in proximity." "Parse. Immediate vicinity of -" You look where the helper stands, curious about what you're doing. "Um, five meters." There's a lull before the robot says, "Tetigit Terran. Raza." That was as far as you could go without actually sitting down and examining the scan chip with a program, so that'll have to do. "Power down." It does so, and with that all taken care of, you look to see what else you can do. <<if $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching you and the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza in the practice ring. [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You enter one of the practice rings and perform a light stretch. The training dummy is one of those that gauge how hard you hit it and how fast. It was information that you never really believed to be helpful. Of course, one can find out how hard they hit compared to another, but if an individual knew how to fight, that could always outdo one who simply knew how to hit hard. A vetix or shaph will always do more damage than you, doesn't mean you couldn't decimate them in a fight. But you suppose it's more for those judging you than helpful information. Regardless, you begin the exercise. You start with taps, extending your warm-up before applying strength and more precise thinking to where the hits land. Due to your profession, you never had to rely on up close and personal. But that didn't mean there was never a time when you had to fight hand to hand or apply some kind of finishing move swiftly and quietly. That's what most of your hits feel like. Blows that will put your opponent down as quickly as possible in the most lethal way. By the time you finish, you have worked up a sweat and leave it at that, finishing up and leaving the ring. <<if $round is 1>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is in the simulation room, and the vetix is still using one of the other rings. ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] ''Simulation room: Occupied'' <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Looking around, you notice that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix in the simulation room, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationRoom")>>You already used the simulation room.<<else>>''Simulation room: Occupied''<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
With the simulation room vacant, you wander over to figure out what this room is about. You bring the console to life and find a few different exercises, though the only ones that really grab your attention are a timed quiz, a medical simulator, and an obstacle course. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>>
You load up the quiz, curious about what this is supposed to be about, and soon find out that it's about everything. It throws countless questions from multiple subjects at you. It also gives you numerous scenarios where obscene knowledge comes in handy. Ultimately, you're not quite sure how you did, but you're at least confident you got half of them right. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You load up the simulation, and a body appears before you as the scene continues to load. Once done, the directions tell you that you need to find and remove the three bullets and tend to any of the wounds before the individual dies or falls unconscious. The instruments lie next to the body, some you're not sure the name of, but you can easily recognize the forceps, scissors, clamps, gauze, bandage tape, and what you think may be water. A timer appears, and once it tells you to begin, you waste no time. Finding the entry wounds is easy; fishing out the bullets is far more complicated, requiring you to be calm and careful as one seems to have split apart. After cleaning and dressing them, you start on the other wounds. These are far easier to do, thanks to you having to clean wounds like this all the time. You're almost upset you didn't have to sew anything up, another skill you possess. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
You load up the simulation and then stand on the platform, watching the world fall into place. A typical street with obstacles like cars, walls, stairs, and buildings rests between you and the area you're supposed to reach. A parkour course then. You didn't need to do much chasing in your line of work. Sometimes it was necessary due to a miscalculation but most times, you show up, stalk, and then eliminate your target. The race starts, and you surge forward, racing across the street, jumping and sliding over cars, avoiding the incoming traffic, and racing up the side of walls. It's exhilarating, and you find that instincts lead you more than anything else. Momentum pushes you forward as you jump the gap between buildings, and once you land, you roll, then pop back up and continue. You can do a few things better, but it's a good enough start for someone who hasn't done much. <<if $round is 1>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you see that the shooting range is now being used by Ne0, the raza is at the consoles, and the vetix is still in the practice ring. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> ''Shooting range: Occupied'' [[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]] [[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]] <<elseif $round is 2>>\ Once done you find you can either do another or move onto something else. Taking a quick peek out the room, you look to see that the shooting range is finally free with Ne0 approaching the consoles, the vetix approaching you, and the raza has taken up one of the free practice rings. The vetix will probably want to use the room and put you on a countdown, so it may be wiser to just head somewhere else ... or not. <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationQuiz")>>You have already taken the quiz.<<else>>[[Participate in the timed quiz.|4.36SimulationQuiz][$smarts +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationMedical")>>You have already completed the medical simulator.<<else>>[[Participate in the medical simulator.|4.36SimulationMedical][$medical +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36SimulationObstacle")>>You have already completed the course.<<else>>[[Participate in the obstacle course.|4.36SimulationObstacle][$agility +=10]]<</if>> [[Shooting range.|4.36ShootingRange][$round +=1; $weapons +=10]] <<if hasVisited("4.36SConsoles")>>You already used the consoles.<<else>>[[The consoles.|4.36Consoles][$round +=1; $tech +=10]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.36PracticeRing")>>You already used the practice ring.<<else>>[[The practice ring.|4.36PracticeRing][$round +=1; $combat +=10]]<</if>> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
Finally, you get a spot in the shooting range. You access the console and find they have numerous programs for you, each corresponding with a weapon. Your eyes go from one to another, deciding on … [[… the sniper.|4.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the assault rifle.|4.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the shotgun.|4.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the pistol.|4.36ShootingRange1]] [[… the plasma charger.|4.36ShootingRange1]]
You pick the corresponding program, grab the weapon, and prepare. Something clicks as soon as the program starts, and you fall into a routine you didn't know was ingrained. So much that you find yourself performing moves almost instinctively. When the program ends, you're more shocked than anything else. Your mind reprehends the program and the Nightwalkers for having such an easy simulation. The Dinami ones were punishing, pushing you into situations that resembled no-win scenarios, scenarios that made you believe your life was indeed in danger. You head back to the console, searching for the difficulty but finding it's already as high as it can go. "Again, then," you growl, pounding the start and returning to your previous position. Again. Again. Each simulation finds you growing more upset than the last, each seeming to be easier than the previous. You're about to press it again when one of the helpers appears. "Time is up." Glancing behind them, you notice your three group members on the other side, unreadable expressions resting on their faces. "They want a turn?" you question, about to add more when the helper shakes their head. "No. The test is done." "Oh," you sigh, avoiding the look they give you as you return the weapon and head out of the simulation area. You head straight to your guide, trying to straighten your mind out. <a data-passage="4.37"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("4.36ShootingRange")>>"Alright, good job," the guide states, sparing you a glance before continuing, "if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the scrimmage room."<<else>>"Time," your guide shouts, and you all make your way back toward them. "Good work. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the scrimmage room."<</if>> "When do we learn who we'll be fighting?" the raza asks. "In a bit. The evaluators will still be looking through your performance and matching you with someone." "And if we failed to meet their expectations?" "You'll still be allowed to fight. Otherwise, the numbers will be off." It makes sense, especially since individuals may show themselves adept in the ring. Entering the room, three other groups are within, and they seem to have already started. Currently, a trarkran and a terran are in the ring. You're not sure how long they've been fighting, but it's evident that the terran is on their last legs and losing energy with every second that passes by. You watch as the trarkran uses their tail to trip up their opponent, and the terran does not resist, lying there until their guide gives the match to the trarkran. You involuntarily scoff, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts that encroach. Ne0 comes to your side. "Query. Desired opponent?" [[“You.”|4.37Ne0][$ne0Lo +=1]] [[“The vetix.”|4.37Vetix]] [[“The raza.”|4.37Raza]] [[“I don't care.”|4.37IDC]]
"I'm hoping they pair me up with you." "Challenge?" "Yea. I'm curious how hard you'd be to put down. Have you ever fought?" "Negative," it blinks, gazing over at you, "others, fearful." Well, of course they are. An average draqe is scary but an aberrant, an android with freewill that can think for itself. It's scary, but at the same time, it's far more familiar. It's something that you can outwit. <<include "4.38">>
"The vetix," you tell it, gazing over at the woman in question. Like always she seems bored, simply minding her business as she watches the next duo enter the ring. "Reasoning?" You shrug. "Vetix are usually strong and test your endurance and hardiness. It's nice for self-reflection." And it'll remind you what to expect when you see a certain vetix. <<include "4.38">>
"That raza," you tell it, looking ahead of you and at the back of the raza in question. "Reasoning?" "I think it'll be funny to see their face hit the floor of the ring again and again. Maybe they'll cry about it." Ne0 pauses. "Joke?" <<if $humor >=50>>"Sure," you snort. "Wasn't really joking, but it can be taken as such if you want."<<else>>"Not in the very least."<</if>> <<include "4.38">>
"I don't actually have a preference," you tell it. You're not sure what the outcome will be if you fight Ne0, but you're somewhat confident in your ability to win against the other two. The vetix will make the task difficult, but the raza feels like nothing but hot air stuffed in a petite body. Still, you haven't seen them fight so you won't judge too harshly. <<include "4.38">>
"I have your matches," your guide says, and you gather around them. "Vetix, you'll be facing off with the draqe. Raza and terran, your match will be after theirs." <<if hasVisited("4.37Raza")>>Looks like you'll be getting what you wanted. <</if>>The raza snorts, rolling their eyes as if they wished for something more challenging. All of you ignore them as the guide continues to speak. "The matches will continue until either I call it, you are down for ten seconds, or one of you takes a knee. I want you to remember that after this, there's a chance you'll be in an organization with the people standing near you. You may even be put on the same team. Remember that. Don't make unnecessary enemies." Their attention shifts to Ne0, "for the fight, we'll need to cut some more of your functions off." "No," the vetix says gruffly, "leave them on." The guide raises a brow but nods. You'll have a bit of time, so stretch and prepare. They walk away, and though Ne0 does nothing, the rest of you begin to stretch and do a basic warm-up. <a data-passage="4.39"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The other matches come and go until it's the vetix's and Ne0's turn. Everyone seems interested, and where there is once idle chatter is now silence as all look to the ring. <<if $cp>>You notice that Checl's group has joined the room; she catches your gaze and waves. You nod back.<</if>> You have an inkling that they matched the two of them up due to Ne0's weight and outer plating. At the end of the day, a draqe is still made out of some organic kind of metal, and you probably will break a few bones before even fazing Ne0. A vetix, on the other hand, has chitinous bone, far more robust, and though you're not sure how that will hold up against metal, it is still wiser to partner those two factors up. Ne0 shows its inexperience fairly quickly. It knows the basics, but there is no clear fighting style, whereas the vetix fights like she was raised to do so. She reminds you of Tsering, or at least how he fights when he knows his opponent is no match. There's a brutalizing trend to their actions. Mostly slow yet damaging punches, charging, and using their entire body like a battering ram. They stay close, and if they do put distance between you, it is never for a good reason. The first time you fought Tsering, mostly due to curiosity, you felt like you had been fighting a rock majority of the time. Still, you won. The fight doesn't last long; no fight really does. Somehow, the vetix manages to trip up Ne0 and, once down, places a foot on its chest to keep it there. Ne0, being primarily of logic, seems to accept defeat rather quickly and makes no move to counter, giving the win to the vetix. Most of the crowd appears to deflate after that. The first draqe they'll probably ever see, and it barely held its own against a standard vetix. Regardless, you know they'll probably give Ne0 entry to the Nightwalkers. It's fighting prowess is low but that doesn't mean its other functions won't offer a great boon. <a data-passage="4.40"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With the conclusion of their fight comes the arrival of yours. You stretch, getting to your feet and heading towards the outside of the ring as your opponent darts to the other. They seem a bit too excited for your taste, but you make no mention of it. Your guide motions for you to enter, and you watch as the raza seems to put on a show. Tsering's voice comes alive in the back of your mind. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <span class ="flashback">"You know what your problem is?" You sigh as you raise a brow and give him a faint hint of your attention. "No, but you're going to tell me. Right?" He snorts, continuing, "You broadcast what you're going to do. You're mysterious, and you'd think that would be included in your fighting, but it's not. I can tell what you're about to do without even focusing." To test those words, I throw a punch toward him, and he swats it away with a knowing smirk. "Told you." "Fine, then oh so knowledgeable Tsering. What would you rather me do?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ "Accepting my offer for a fun night on the town would be a start," he smiles. "I'm about to walk away." "Fine, fine," he sighs, "you can start by being more observant. Perception is a strength." <<else>>\ "You can start by being more observant. Perception is a strength." <</if>>\ "How can someone do that when trying to make the first move?" "By testing their opponent. I can hit you first, but that doesn't always mean I'm not studying you. I'm testing your reflexes, seeing which side you favor, and checking to see if you have any kind of injury or debilitation. Anything I can use, I'm watching for." "What have you noticed about me?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>He eliminates the space between you, his purple eyes looming over you and making you stiffen though you refuse to move. "Those eyes of yours mostly. And your refusal to give me the time of day." You snort, carefully tapping the side of his neck where his neck slits lie. "Keep trying. Who knows, you may succeed one day." You move from near him and leave, hearing him shout, 'that's not a no.'<<else>>He cocks his head as he regards me, finally chuckling. "I'm not about to tell you." He moves away, leaving you to wonder if you should switch up your style and then wonder if there's any point to that.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="4.41"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> The whistle blows, and the raza wastes no time in moving forward. Dodging the attack is easy, and without much trying, you can already tell how much their actions are simply to show off. They keep bouncing around, reminding you of some over-active boxer. //They'll tire out pretty quickly//, your mind determines. One bounce of theirs, in particular, captures your attention. They do a double bounce on their left, and when they shift from side to side, their left hand extends more than their right. You decide to throw a kick, curious to see their reaction and reflexes at work. They slide out of reach, far too eager, and like you observed before, far too bouncy. You learn that their left side is dominant, though. "Is that all you got?" they laugh, "I knew this would be easy, but I at least hoped to get some good notes other than 'took down the opponent fast.'" [[Antagonize them.|4.41Antagonize][$persuade -=5]] [[Tire them out and have them defeat themselves.|4.41TireOut][$persuade +=5]] [[Finish this quickly.|4.41FinishQuickly]]
"Oh, is that right?" you question, "well, then come on. Let's see how fast you can put me down." They surge forward, and though your initial thought is to dodge, you decide to take the hit, curious about how hard their punch is. The jab lands on your cheek, hard enough for you to feel it at least but not even enough to cause your numbing abilities to go into effect to try and deter the pain. "First note," you smirk, "learn how to hit harder." They try to land another, but you dodge this time, grabbing their arm and slamming your elbow on top of it. You don't wish to break their arm, but there should be enough pain now to dissuade them from not thinking about their subsequent action. "Did you not go into the practice ring last test? Did the dummy even register your hits?" "Shut up!" they shout, aiming a kick for your head that you easily swat away. "I think I'm going to steal your line if you don't mind. //I// was hoping for some good notes besides 'had too much fun in ring.'" "This isn't a game," they say through gritted teeth. "Isn't it? Because I'm not really feeling threatened here." They surge toward you, their hatred and rage blinding them to sense, especially toward someone who has proven challenging. [[Break them.|4.41BreakThem][$attitude -=5]] [[Put them down easy.|4.41DownEasy][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> Perhaps the charge would be effective if you hadn't seen it coming. You're given plenty of time to move out of the way, trip them, and then pin them down to the ground. Your knee on their back as they struggle against you and their wrist in your hand as you angle it into a position that would make it easy to break. "I could break your arm right now," you tell them. "You're bluffing," they growl, and you move back to show that you aren't just as the guide calls the match. Part of you still wants to show them how much you weren't kidding, but you can easily see that landing you right back on the prison bus. There are more important things than just some random raza who has a mouth on them. So, with a sigh, you get to your feet and leave the ring. <a data-passage="4.42"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> The idea of putting them down fast and hard does surface, but you shove it to the side, there is no need for that. You instead wish to simply subdue them and get this over with. You let them collide with you, and using their momentum, you wrap your arms around them so that you're both sent falling to the ground. At the last minute, you shift, pinning them down and keeping them there. Every number finds them thrashing more, and on one occasion, they almost throw you off and rise, but it's too late, and you withstand the assault. You rise and leave the ring as soon as it's called, finding no reason to stay. <<include "4.42">>
One of the smartest things you can think of is doing almost nothing and having them defeat themselves. It's a trick you've seen Tsering pull multiple times, mostly when he wants to embarrass the other party. All you have to do is move. There may be a few areas where you have to defend, but it's not a difficult task in the grand scheme of all that you're doing. Opponents like this always make it easier. Each time they come forward, you dance out of the way, and each time you do, their frustration grows. Their punches produce franticness, and soon any training they might have had goes out the window as they simply try to land a hit. It's mostly frustration and anger that rule an individual at this time. The belief that a blow should've landed by now or that this fight should be more engaging. "Stop running," they yell. The accusation doesn't bother you; in a way, you are running. But where you haven't broken a sweat, they're slowing down and gasping a whole lot more. If they were well-trained, this fight could last longer than two minutes, but you sensed their unpreparedness from the moment they started bouncing. They probably knew enough to give them an edge against the average person, but nothing more. They let out a breath, glaring at you as they breath deeply. You can see that their entire body is tight, holding back hatred that they wish could fuel additional punches. But despite how untrained they are, they're at least not stupid, and you watch as they take a knee. Your guide calls the fight, and you turn and leave, heading back to your spot near Ne0. <a data-passage="4.42"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Unlike them, you don't care about getting glowing reviews from evaluators you haven't seen yet. This will probably be anticlimactic, but you'd much rather get this over with and head back to viewing the rest of the fights until it's your turn to be evaluated. You wait until they're bouncing to surge forward, faking as if you're about to throw a punch and instead going low and swiping their legs out from under them. Due to their love of bouncing, they're thoroughly unprepared and go down without a problem. You can already see them trying to rise and so stand over them. [[Punch them in the face. Hard.|4.41PunchFace][$attitude -=5]] [[Just keep them down.|4.41KeepDown][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You deliver a punishing jab to their face, ignoring the pain that blossoms along your knuckles as their head snaps back to the ground, and they lie there longer. Long enough for the fight to be called in your favor, but you're already leaving the ring. "Should've fought you," you hear the vetix murmur as you walk by. <<include "4.42">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You pin them down by their hands, keeping your head out of collision range as the guide begins counting down the time they have left. Every number finds them thrashing more, and on one occasion, they almost throw you off and rise, but it's too late, and you withstand the assault. You rise and leave the ring as soon as it's called, finding no reason to stay. "Should've fought you," you hear the vetix murmur as you walk by. <<include "4.42">>
The rest of the fights pass by without you paying much attention to any of them. <<if $cp>>Checl's grabs your attention, <<if hasVisited("4.34HelpChecl")>>and you watch as she uses your advice, avoiding her opponent and causing them to chase her around the ring. You're not sure if it's frustration or understanding that they'll be unable to land a hit that causes them to bend the knee; either way, they do. You smile at how excited she leaves the ring, seeking you out to mouth her thanks. <<else>>and you watch as she loses easily. She should've just taken a knee. It probably would've been a lot less painful. <</if>>Zihr's match is also an interesting watch, raza versus raza, and though you're unsure, Zihr seems troubled. Despite that, he still wins against his opponent, proving that whatever bothers him doesn't get in the way of fighting. A nice thing to know.<</if>> Most of the fights don't receive your attention, and thankfully, Ne0 is not a talkative companion. You only find your focus returning when Proctor Aven gets into the ring. <a data-passage="4.43"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Thank you all for coming out. You will be called to a separate room for evaluations or told if you did not make it. As soon as you walk out of this room, you will know your fate with our organization. I look forward to seeing many of you on the other side." And with that, Aven leaves, and the first six names are called. You watch as<<if $cp>> Checl and<</if>> Zihr leave the room, and you wonder if this will be the last time you ever see <<if $cp>>them<<else>>him<</if>>. One by one, more and more people head out. Soon, your entire group has been called, leaving you with five remaining people. And then, finally, the door opens, and you're called out. You're directed to a room, but find no one inside. "Fantastic," you mumble, more waiting. You head to a table and sit on top of it. You can't help but think about what may happen once you become a bounty hunter. What happens when old habits sprout, and you kill someone who shouldn't have been killed? You're not sure how long you'll be with this outfit. Checking out too early or behaving like you're not staying will raise suspicion. You'll have to be smart, a task you're becoming sick of. When was the last time you relaxed? The last time you could take a deep breath and enjoy where you were? Your mind comes up with the answer, but you do not wish to think about it. You perk up when the door opens, and a shaph in a far more prestigious uniform than the others walks in with a pad in hand. This isn't just an evaluator; you figure that out by how they carry themselves and the symbols decorating the uniform. You can't help but lean in, curious about what this all may mean. <a data-passage="4.44"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They offer a friendly nod, greeting, "I'm Commander Sin D'Baloren." Their voice is deep and resounding, the type of voice that enraptures an entire assembly. But there is an edge to it, an afterthought that carries a nurturing edge that could do well with soothing babies. You can see them growing to be one of the elders whose voice alone tells others of their experience and wisdom. The type of elder who's always asked to recount tales and stories. "Guess you're my evaluator?" "Actually, I'm not," they correct, humming lightly as they sit in the chair you refused to take. "But I tend to stick my roots into things that pull at my curiosity." "I do something special?" you question, knowing all too well what you're about to be told. "I believe you already know the answer to that," they chuckle lightheartedly, placing the pad down. "You scored in the top percentile of not just the recruits here but our entire organization. But you already knew that, correct?" [[“I had an idea.”|4.44HadAnIdea]] [[“I don't like to assume.”|4.44LikeToAssume]] [[Remain silent.|4.45]]
You shrug nonchalantly. "I had an idea." "And something tells me that you barely applied yourself." "Why break a sweat when my 30% will get the job done?" The shaph laughs in response. You're beginning to think they're dangerous, not because of their open disposition but solely due to how carefree they sound. They feel like the sort of person who is not prone to anger and has a knack for setting others at ease. Yet, they said they were a commander. No one rises in the ranks by making friends with everyone. People like this are always the most dangerous, mainly because everyone forgets how strategic and cunning they can be. "Cocky, I see." You always hated that word. Trusting in your ability to get shit done when there is enough proof that you do so has never felt like cockiness. You don't brag. You simply inform. But, like many things, what you think and feel hardly matters. <<include "4.45">>
"I don't like to assume," you state, shrugging nonchalantly and causing the shaph to laugh. You're beginning to think they're dangerous, not because of their open disposition but solely due to how carefree they sound. They feel like the sort of person who is not prone to anger and has a knack for setting others at ease. Yet, they said they were a commander. No one rises in the ranks by making friends with everyone. People like this are always the most dangerous, mainly because everyone forgets how strategic and cunning they can be. "Humble," they snort. <<include "4.45">>
None of this shocks you. You're quite sure the Dinami has far more rigorous testing and evaluations, and you managed to get yourself into threat-level U. If anything, you're just happy that you still got it. A year in the desert can either harden someone or make them soft. At the very least, you stayed somewhat the same. [[The same isn't good enough.|4.46SameIsntGoodEnough]] [[Gives you something to fight towards.|4.46SomethingToFightTowards]]
You frown at your own thought. While you remain immutable, Tsering kept training and pushing himself. Before, the two of you were on the same level, and even then, he still had some traits that could tip a fight in his favor. Now, not only do you have a year to catch up, but that's a year of no longer following, watching, and knowing his strengths and weaknesses. The positive? He no longer knows your own moves and you're fueled by something he doesn't have, revenge. <<include "4.46">>
You suppose that just as effortlessly as negatives can be found, so can positives. You have been left unchanged for a year, but at least you know that you need to work harder than ever before. You learned long ago that a cocky mindset is a dangerous psyche to possess. Working for something is far better than remaining at the top with no foreseeable threats. <<include "4.46">>
"Scrubbed records. Odd markings<<if hasVisited("4.22Red")>>, and if this report is correct, pointing that out should have me meeting your elbow soon, yes?"<<else>>," they trail off as if waiting for you to fill in the blanks.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("4.22Red")>>"Believe it or not, she had it coming either way." They hum.<<else>>"Looks like we're both in the dark."<</if>> If they're growing agitated by your dodging, then they show no sign of it, simply examining you much like a handler would a newly acquired caged beast. "I was hoping you wouldn't make it easy on me," they smirk. "I love a good mystery. The only problem is that my bark tells me you're a threat. And I have learned to trust what my bark warns me against. What isn't clear is if you're more of a threat to those around you or to your own hubris." Your frown grows, something they take note of. "This entire time, it feels like a question should arise, and I haven't heard one besides you asking me if I knew the outcome. Ask what you need to ask." "Are you a threat or not?" You're about to answer, but they interrupt you. "The judges are still deliberating on you. They're not sure if you're worth the trouble." It all makes sense. Why you were given a commander instead of a standard evaluator, and why this specific shaph has been given the job ... or did they take it? They did say they had a problem with sticking their roots where it doesn't belong. <a data-passage="4.46.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And what do you think?" "I haven't made up my mind yet," they answer, cocking their head to the side as they continue to observe you. "But like I said, I love a good mystery." They get to their feet, gathering the pad and looking at it without much care to their actions. "When I leave this room, I will report to them and give them my assessment. I give you this moment to answer my question. Are you a threat?" [[“To those in my way.”|4.46ThoseInMyWay][$coercer +=1]] [[“More so to myself.”|4.46ToMyself][$shamer +=1]] [[“I can be.”|4.46ICanBe][$evader +=1]] [[“You like a mystery, remember.”|4.46Mystery][$broker +=1]] [[“Wait and see.”|4.46WaitSee][$charmer +=1]] [[“No.”|4.46No][$sin -=5; $silencer +=1]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++</span><</if>> "Yea," you answer, "to those who stand between me and what I want." "And if the Nightwalkers one day find themselves in the middle?" "What if the planet explodes tomorrow? What if I die on a hunt? If. If. If. I can sit here and give you scenario after scenario about what could happen. But I don't know. This place could grow on me." The shaph laughs, but there's an absence of joy, and it feels like they are more intrigued about the future. No, they're not laughing with you. That's a laugh of someone who will have no problem protecting what they care about. If you threaten what they have, they'll deal with you as well. <<include "4.47">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Shamer ++</span><</if>> "More so to myself than those around me." "That doesn't bode well either." "Yea, but that's my problem. Not yours." <<include "4.47">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evader ++</span><</if>> There seems to be little point in lying to someone who seems to know better. You feel like Commander Sin is only asking to see how you will answer anyway. You shrug. "I can be. But can't the same be said about everyone?" "No," they smile. "Not everyone has mysterious markings occupying their features." You wonder if your markings would be of concern if you were another species or even if you had a more detailed file. Regardless, you're sick of being reminded of lineaments you know full well are there, and even more, them defining you. <<include "4.47">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Broker ++</span><</if>> "Didn't you just say that you like a good mystery? Why ruin the chance to figure it out on your own?" Sin studies you, and it takes every muscle in your being to stay still underneath that gaze. You want to shift, to look away, or to even add more. <<include "4.47">>
"Why not wait and see? Then you'll have the ability to actually judge just how well those roots of yours are." They chuckle, but it does nothing to bring comfort. You'll have to make a note not to bullshit this particular shaph in the future, it won't end well for you. <<include "4.47">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Silencer ++</span><</if>> You stare at the shaph, finally answering with a simple but firm, "No." <<include "4.47">>
"Thank you for your honesty." They nod to the courtyard resting outside the lone window in the room. "You can join the others. If you're not approached and cuffed by the time everyone readies to leave, you will have gotten your answer." They turn and head towards the door. "A moment," you shout, and they stop. "If I do make it. I have an aiczeots that was taken when I was arrested. I'd like him returned to me." "Favors already?" Sin grins, and you fight to keep the grimace off your face. That is precisely what this is, and you hate it. [[“Favor for a favor.”|4.46FfF][$sin +=5]] [[“Yes.”|4.46Yes][$sin +=3]] [[“Could do it out of the goodness of your heart.”|4.46GoodHeart][$sin -=3]] [[“I'd do it myself if I could.”|4.46MyselfIfOnly]]
"Favor for a favor." "You believe I'll need or want something from you." "Your curiosity has already proven as much." They release a genuine chuckle and hum. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="4.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes," you murmur. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="4.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Or, you can do it out of the goodness of your heart." Sin stares at you for what feels like the longest minute you've ever had to stand through. Finally, they say, "don't presume to know me and what my heart holds. I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="4.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't like it anymore than you probably. If I could do it all myself then I would." Sin raises a brow, "then perhaps you should try that first." "Thing is I know I'll get in trouble. So I'd rather just skip all that and go straight to you." "Wise." They straighten up. "I will see what I can do." And then they leave, and you're left in the room alone. If the committee determines that you're not worth the trouble … then what? What brilliant plan have you created to get you out of that mess? So much is riding on this plan, this one right here. You haven't factored in that you may be //too good// for an organization, especially the Nightwalkers. You're not sure what Sin will say and if their words will even have any pull over the panel. You don't have a plan for the first time in a while. Whatever happens, it will be you improvising. And everyone knows how well that goes. <a data-passage="4.48"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>> <<if hasVisited("4.34LeaveChecl")>> <<set $cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "jail">> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ Wandering outside, you're immediately overwhelmed by the intensity of the sun. For a few hours, you forget what planet you are residing on. You stand there for a while, part of your attention going to your skin. It has been so long since you've seen the naturally smooth texture that defines all terrans. Since you've gotten to Taouron, it has taken on a far more rigid and tough appearance, all due to the adaptive capabilities that reside in the DNA of all terrans. A quick look around, and you notice that if at least four dozen people had come for the trials, only half of them remain. The two other members of your group are both still present, the vetix waiting patiently and the raza with a group of other raza. Rigid but not impossible. Continuing to search, you find <<if $cp>>Checl, Zihr, and Ne0<<else>>Zihr and Ne0<</if>> hanging around a bench. You make your approach, though the idea of this being the last time you see them is a constant in your mind. You're close to ridiculing yourself. Why didn't you have a backup plan? Of course the answer is that you didn't think this would be a problem. You pass, you get in. End of story. But it makes sense. It makes enough sense to piss you off and earn your respect all at the same time. "$name. Greetings," Ne0 acknowledges, giving you a stiff, welcoming nod. "Zihr teach you that?" "Sentient allies. Convenient." <<if $checl_whereabouts is "jail">>\ "Where's Checl?" Zihr shakes his head. "She didn't make it. Scored a two." You're not sure if you should feign shock or not. You had a feeling that she wouldn't. Zihr continues, choosing to look elsewhere. "But that doesn't shock either of us, does it? I'm just sorry that she even tried. She should've just accepted her sentence and paid it. There was no need to bring her down this far." That much you can agree on. When you heard about the fourth trial, you knew Checl wouldn't score high enough. That third trial was her only hope. You say nothing in response. Thankfully, Zihr doesn't seem like he's waiting for your thoughts. <<else>>\ "So it seems we all made it." <<if $cp>>\ "Thankfully," Checl sighs, releasing a breath that you're sure she's been holding in for some time. "How did your evaluation go?" "Interesting," you answer. It's hard to judge when there was less evaluating and more questioning on the likelihood of you threatening the organization. Zihr seems less than pleased with that answer, but what else is new? <<elseif $ticketforone>>\ He doesn't reply, reminding you he still has a grudge against what you did at the wall. You doubt that will be a problem that fixes itself soon, if at all. <<else>>\ "Seems so," Zihr replies, "how did your evaluation go?" "Interesting," you answer. It's hard to judge when there was less evaluating and more questioning on the likelihood of you threatening the organization. Zihr seems less than pleased with that answer, but what else is new? <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="4.49"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Congratulations to all of you," Proctor Aven announces. "I know you'll miss my voice, but this is where I say goodbye. It has been an honor to oversee the next group of Nightwalker Bounty Hunters. A shuttle is waiting out front to take you all to the headquarters. There you will be given additional information and assigned a handler. So, the last thing I will say is to be mindful, be vigilant, and walk faithfully into the night." And with that, he nods and those who remain all begin to leave the area. You join them, your eyes glancing from one official to the next as you go. You only calm down when you see Commander Sin amongst the others. Their eyes meet yours, and they give you a subtle nod and a sly smile. So, you're in the clear. Good, saves you some mild panic and the need to devise a hastily assembled plan. You load the shuttle, heading to the back and believing you'll get a section to yourself. That belief vanishes when <<if $cp>>the three sit beside and across from you, excitedly speaking to one another.<<else>>the other two sit across from you, keeping their voices low and their conversation between one another.<</if>> You pay them no mind, resting your gaze outside the window. This is a milestone. Not only does it allow you to put distance between you and the Dinami, but it also gives you a way off of Crion and the ability to learn and track those you need to find. You'll also be supplied with gear, weapons, and a way to hone skills that have been neglected for too long. How long will you stay with them? Will you take the first chance you get or play a longer game? There is a number of years you're supposed to devote to the organization, but you're sure the Dinami will help you shirk those responsibilities. There will be time for plotting. At the moment, you wish to rest a weary mind. The shuttle takes off, and you watch as the ground grows distant, the sky nearing as you merge into the sky lanes and head toward Tebriri. What comes next, you can only guess. <a data-passage="4.50"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<h3>//Location Unknown …//</h3> "What the fuck now?" Is all Tsering can mumble as he wanders into the comm room. He hates this room. It's stuffy and a waste of space, used solely to communicate with the Hoods. Whenever the main comms room goes down, or someone can't make a call because all the areas are occupied, he thinks about this place. How this room can fit at least another ten consoles but instead has only one large one. "Yes," he mumbles, scratching the area near his neck slit in irritation as he nods to the room controller, "because your inner rants will change this." That verbal thought irks him more than any other, but he buries it, putting on a mask that he abhors but has become familiar with. The room fades to black until a soothing blue light appears, lighting up five figures. They each sit on their own level and carry a nauseatingly grandiose demeanor. "And what great honor was granted upon me to gain the right to stand before the greats?" "Leave your snark at the door, Tsering," one of them comments, not that Tsering could ever tell which. He's only met one of the Hoods, and to say that the meeting was underwhelming is putting it mildly. He just barely made out their species, nothing else. The rest of them are nothing more than disembodied voices to him, probably exactly what they want. "No snark at all, your Greatness. In fact, quite the opposite. I'm truly honored." They remain quiet for a beat longer before continuing on. "We believed you would find this interesting," one of them speaks, typing away at their terminal. <a data-passage="4.51"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A few seconds later and a large holo screen appears. Tsering's eyes flit across the screen, schooling his expression when $name's face appears. To say he's surprised would be a lie. He knew about the still-functioning shields, and he's gone back and forth about whether he had done the right thing by not disabling them. $name is undoubtedly unique, but he didn't believe ?him capable of surviving a fall from that height. He wouldn't make that mistake again if he lived long enough to do so. "?He <<verb "looks">> dead, <<verb "does">> ?he not?" Tsering readies his retort, biting his tongue at the last minute. Sometimes it's hard to remember whose presence he stands in front of. No, that's a lie. He knows damn well who they are, he just finds himself caring less and less, and that type of negligence will see him in trouble far quicker than careless forgetfulness. "Did you call me in here to punish me?" "Not yet," another voice reports. "Your mission should prove simple. Bring in $name Moran. Alive." "Simple?" Tsering chuckles. "I kicked ?him off a damn plane, and it probably only pissed ?him off. But you all want me to bring ?him in alive." "Again, should prove simple." There is a note of finality to their words, one that Tsering has heard time and time again. Either he excels here, or he comes back to accept death. He succeeded in the former any other time, but this isn't some simple-minded target who believes themselves ingenious and untouchable. This is $name. <a data-passage="4.52"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We will supply you with all you need." "Like a rocket launcher?" he mumbles under his breath. "We are giving you this chance, and this chance only, to fix your oversight." "Try not to disappoint us a second time." The Hoods fade from view, and the room they sit in follows soon after. Tsering once again finds himself surrounded by the bland metallic walls of the comm room. He holds his tongue, aware of the numerous cameras that plague the area, the halls, and the rooms. His walking doesn't cease until he is outside, leaning on a rail and focusing on the perpetual harsh winds that plague the nights of this planet. Most nights, he found himself verbally complaining about it. And most nights, $name would beg him to shut up or poke fun at him. <<if $dinami >=50>>He always knew their time would be limited, he just didn't wish to end it the way that he did.<<else>>He never thought their time would come to an end, and if it did, then it would merely be due to them saying their goodbyes. This … what he did …<</if>> It doesn't matter. None of it does. It's done. <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>And yet, seeing ?his_ face stroked something deep within him. Something that hasn't necessarily been quiet since that day in the plane but has at least spared him from whatever all this is. Seeing ?his_ face awakened emotions too tricky to bury, and if he has been making any progress, all of it is gone now. There's no answer for what he's done, especially for someone he claims to admire and have feelings towards.<<else>>It feels hard to pinpoint his feelings after an entire solar cycle has been completed. He can still remember the days when he would do almost anything to get $name's attention, literally glowing when the terran complimented him. He yearned for ?his praise more than anything, and when he gained ?his friendship … Well, one doesn't do what he did to a friend.<</if>> But he isn't seeking forgiveness, and with that, he straightens, looking to the right in the spot that $name once occupied. This was never going to be easy; he knew that when he decided this to be his course. Pushing himself away from the railing, he lets the wind strike him one last time and gazes around, soaking all of it in. It no longer feels right to be here. To stand in an area once shared between two friends or whatever they may have called each other. This area is for them, a memory, and it should stay that way. He leaves. He'll be seeing $name very soon anyway. <a data-passage="4.53"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<h3>//Cafe Dintrila on Miarilia …//</h3> Taking a long sip of his drink, Jarill closes his eyes and basks in the steam and warmth his cup of temper offers him. It has been a long day, filled with utter disappointment. As a scientist, his patience is vast but not indefinite, and though he thought he'd never see the day, he finds himself questioning his profession. Or at least this specific project. A project that he's devoted a good chunk of his life to. Just thinking of such desertion leaves him feeling hollow and confused about who he is and will become. "Baron Jarill," a smartly dressed woman greets, approaching his table and taking a seat without invitation. Though he supposes she has no need for one. He wouldn't be sitting here if she hadn't extended an invitation. An invitation. He snorts as he takes another sip, this one much longer, and sees him finishing his beverage. No, this is more on par with a summoning. No one tells a baroness of Larikiias' status no. No one wise, anyway. Following the trarkran baroness is a terran woman wearing the baroness' colors, but her outfit is not one he typically sees servants in. She seems far more ready to infiltrate a heavily fortified building than to deliver temper and clean the floors. He shoos the thought away, another plaything Larikiias has found herself enraptured by. She will soon break her, and he'll see another within a burning. "Why did you summon me?" "Allow me to enjoy my drink first before peppering me with your questions." "And if I decline?" "Then this is for not. Because I will leave." Her attention shifts to the server, "the blossom temper, with a double serving of spiced laviia." The server nods and scurries away, Larikiias not missing a beat. <a data-passage="4.54"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Fine," Jarill growls, "let us speak about your maos. How have they been going?” He winces when Larikiias clicks her tongue in disapproval, gesturing to the woman standing at her side. "I haven't done another since my last Grand winner. Seben, manners." The woman shows no sign of hearing the Baroness and continues to gaze around, alert and focused. Larikiias seems to grow impatient before nodding in acknowledgment, bringing up her abacus terminal. She types a few lines in before turning her attention to the woman for a second time. "Seben?" The terran places her attention on Jarill, giving him a nod that he supposes is meant to be a greeting. His frown grows, but he says nothing on the topic. "Can we please get to whatever you summoned me -" Larikiias raises a finger, and he obediently goes quiet. She thanks the server as he delivers her drink and takes a single sip before focusing back on him. <a data-passage="4.55"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Have you made any progress on your work since losing your beloved terran?" "No. $name's blood was integral and I haven't yet discovered the cause to duplicate that onto others." "So you need ?him for more than just sentimental reasons," she nods, "and what would my help cost?" "I'm not asking you for your help," he corrects. "I think you will find yourself reconsidering such a stance." She holds her hand out for something, and without missing a beat, the terran woman, Seben, places a screen in Larikiias' waiting palm. She spends a few seconds typing something on the holographic screen before sliding the lightweight, flat object his way. Instead of taking it, he leans in, curious, until a familiar face appears. He watches as the terran with spotted $markings markings is walked towards a police transfer vehicle, the announcer declaring that <<if $cp>>five<<else>>four<</if>> other attackers also were taken in custody. Taouron. ?He <<verb "is">> in Taouron. Even more, ?he <<verb "is">> alive. Jarill's two hearts rapidly begin to beat, hammering in his chest at what this news may mean. Then it all freezes, and his gaze unsteadily rises to meet that of Larikiias. <a data-passage="4.56"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"As I see it. You have nothing to aid you while I, on the other hand, do." "Why?" "Because greater things have arisen. Things greater than you and I and this paltry competition we once were part of. This is no longer about supplying the trarkran science world with new information. It is about securing our future." "You have never been one to dress up words. Explain." "We need an army. You can help supply that army. Anything more you will not receive until I know you are on our side." "Our?" Larikiias raises a brow, and he understands he will be receiving no answer. "Do we have a deal?" The terrans have a saying, one that he has grown fond of due to his wife and now, Larikiias. //Don't trust those residing beneath the lava.// Simply put, don't trust those who don't even fear the wrath and the power of the lava. <a data-passage="4.57"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
His gaze falls back to the video, paused on $name's face as ?he <<verb "is">> guided into the prison transporter. ?He <<verb "is">> not only alive, but there is a chance that Jarill's research will not be entirely in vain. Even more, so many more tests can be run and so much more discovered. To give up now … what will his life become? What will his legacy be? He has strived all his life to be the scientist he has always been destined to be. To throw it away now ... to walk away and discover something new ... it's something he just can't do. He looks up and nods. "Deal." "Wise," Larikiias nods, retrieving the holo screen. She takes another sip of her drink and then a bite of her dessert, one that Jarill hadn't noticed being delivered. After, she types something on her terminal. Jarill watches as the terran blinks, but there is something different with her eyes. She seems responsive, far more than when he had first seen her, but there is something else there, something that makes him feel as if he has descended into danger. "Seben," Larikiias hums with a subtle smile, almost like a mother trying to persuade her child to do something. "It's time to hunt." <a data-passage="PartOne"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<a data-passage="Chapter Five"><img src="images/partone.png" alt="Part One: Trials of the Hunter"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <<set $cp to true>> <</nobr>>\ For what feels like the hundredth time since Sin brought it to your attention, you reread the report from the Nightwalker's doctors. Terran<<if $markings is "gold">> and trarkran DNA found.<<else>>, trarkran, and <<if $markings is "red">>raza<<elseif $markings is "purple">>vetix<<elseif $markings is "green">>zeach<<elseif $markings is "blue">>shaph<<else>>nurien<</if>> DNA found.<</if>> No wonder your abacus never cooperated with you whenever it came down to registering your species. You were a fuckin'- You hiss, clenching your eyes closed and steadying your breathing as you close down the program and try to think about something else. You don't need to suffer another panic attack. In the end, there are only questions. In a way, you had a feeling about the trarkran DNA. No terran possesses the ability to use moi̥ like you are and think it's all just some coincidence. Cosmicium gifted the trarkran that ability, just like it gifted your species the ability to adapt to different environments. If the Baron had given you another dose of that, you predict it would've just extended your capabilities or evolved them to some degree. But it was always a different experience to be told as such. Did the Dinami know? They ran plenty of tests on you … no, there's no way they didn't know. They had to. That's probably why they kept a Geniser around; they saw a nice little test subject and wanted to see exactly what you could do. Every little thing about you always comes back to these damn, fucking markings. [[You're just … you're tired. You're lost and tired.|9.01]] [[You wish you could pluck them off one-by-one.|9.01]] [[You just want people to see you for once.|9.01]]
"$name?" you jump, cursing yourself for the reaction before calming down and putting on an air of tiredness. In a way, you aren't faking it; you really are exhausted. After you left the med-bay, you explored as many vices as you could, trying to see which one you would properly slam itself into a puzzle that accepted none. When they all failed, you chose to just walk around aimlessly, visiting areas that you had never been to before and probably never will again. You turned your terminal off and chose to exist in a weird limbo, one where your mind wandered paths that held no scenery. Only when thoughts began to regain shape did you choose to return to the headquarters and sleep. <<if hasVisited("7.02TeachHer")>>\ "What?" "Are you okay?" <<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>Zihr asks as he lowers himself to your level. He rests a hand on your knee, and you can see more than just that question residing in his bright, amber eyes. "Talk to me. What's going on? Is it something Sin said?" Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind almost malfunctioning as you fail to think up a proper excuse that won't cause the two of you to butt heads. The two of you haven't had a chance to discuss what was confessed in med-bay. Frankly, you hadn't given it a second thought due to everything else that had followed it. It feels like just another check-box on the docket, begging for your attention and receiving less than a spot on the shelf to gather dust.<<else>>Zihr questions, shifting uncomfortably as he places a hand on your shoulder. Checking in on the down and despondent was Checl's job; neither of you was really cut out for it. The thought almost causes you to smirk, but it never truly meets your lips.<</if>> "It's fine," you mumble, moving to get up. You almost want to hiss at the idea that floats through your mind on artificial angelic wings. What was he touching? The terran side of you? Or maybe it was the trarkrans? It's a ridiculous notion. You are … are you still terran? Your abacus doesn't even know. It damn near malfunctions on itself when it samples your DNA. You're not a terran, you're not even tetigit any more, but some secret fucked up third thing. Letting out an involuntary hiss, you let go and focus on something else, your attention settling on Zihr and Ne0. "I'll see you two later," you mumble. "Can you go check on Checl? There's something up with her," he tells you, causing you to pause and turn back. "What's wrong with her?" "Elevated heart rate. Muscle tension." "Ne0, what did I tell you about scanning folks without their consent?" The draqe pauses, shifting uncomfortably before nodding. "Apologies. Behavior correction." <a data-passage="9.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $cp and not hasVisited("7.02TeachHer")>>\ "Hey!" the voice from before repeats, yet again having to pull you back to the now. Your focus comes to rest on the trio in front of you, Checl and Zihr at the forefront, with a hint of worry in their eyes. Ne0 stands a few steps back, simply glancing at you in its usual expressionless way. "We were calling your name for the past few ticks. Are you okay?" Checl asks. "No, but I'll … I'll get over it." <<if hasVisited("8.22ReassureChecl") or hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>\ "You can tell me," she whispers, crouching low to be on your level, her hands resting over yours. The two of you haven't had a chance to discuss what was confessed in med-bay. Frankly, you hadn't given it a second thought due to everything else that had followed it. It feels like just another check-box on the docket, begging for your attention and receiving less than a spot on the shelf to gather dust. "Not … right now," you tell her, moving to get up. You almost want to hiss at the idea that floats through your mind on artificial angelic wings. Whose hands were she just touching? The terran side of you? Or maybe it was the trarkrans? It's a ridiculous notion. You are … are you still terran? Your abacus doesn't even know. It damn near malfunctions on itself when it samples your DNA. You're not a terran, you're not even tetigit any more, but some secret fucked up third thing. <<elseif hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>\ "$name," Zihr says, a hint of harshness in his voice as he lowers himself to be on your level. He rests a hand on your knee, and you can see your other two companions shift, Checl's eyes widening as she practically has to bite her tongue to keep the questions to herself. "Talk to me. What's going on? Is it something Sin said?" Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind almost malfunctioning as you fail to think up a proper excuse that won't cause the two of you to butt heads. The two of you haven't had a chance to discuss what was confessed in med-bay. Frankly, you hadn't given it a second thought due to everything else that had followed. It feels like just another check-box on the docket, begging for your attention and receiving less than a spot on the shelf to gather dust. "Later," you mumble, moving to get up. You almost want to hiss at the idea that floats through your mind on artificial angelic wings. Whose hands were she just touching? The terran side of you? Or maybe it was the trarkrans? It's a ridiculous notion. You are … are you still terran? Your abacus doesn't even know. It damn near malfunctions on itself when it samples your DNA. You're not a terran, you're not even tetigit any more, but some secret fucked up third thing. <<else>>\ "What exactly are you getting over?" Zihr asks, when you don't answer, he rests a hand on your shoulder. The action is stiff, and you can feel the doubt that rests beneath it. "I'm fine," you mumble, moving to get up. You almost want to hiss at the idea that floats through your mind on artificial angelic wings. What was he touching? The terran side of you? Or maybe it was the trarkrans? It's a ridiculous notion. You are … are you still terran? Your abacus doesn't even know. It damn near malfunctions on itself when it samples your DNA. You're not a terran, you're not even tetigit any more, but some secret fucked up third thing. <</if>>\ No, you're about to be sick again. You can feel the bile rising, the others crowding around you in an attempt to show their support and care. But it's too much. Gesturing for them to back up, you flee. "I'm fine," you shout over your shoulder as you continue to go. "I'm fine. I'm fine." <a data-passage="9.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "What?" "Are you okay?" <<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>Zihr asks as he lowers himself to your level. He rests a hand on your knee, and you can see more than just that question residing in his bright, amber eyes. "Talk to me. What's going on? Is it something Sin said?" Your mouth opens, then closes, your mind almost malfunctioning as you fail to think up a proper excuse that won't cause the two of you to butt heads. The two of you haven't had a chance to discuss what was confessed in med-bay. Frankly, you hadn't given it a second thought due to everything else that had followed it. It feels like just another check-box on the docket, begging for your attention and receiving less than a spot on the shelf to gather dust.<<else>>Zihr questions, shifting uncomfortably as he places a hand on your shoulder. Checking in on the down and despondent had always been Checl's job; neither of you was really cut out for it. The thought almost causes you to smirk, but it never truly meets your lips.<</if>> "No, but I'll … I'll get over it." "What exactly are you getting over?" Zihr asks, when you don't answer, he rests a hand on your shoulder. The action is stiff, and you can feel the doubt that rests beneath it. "I'm fine," you mumble, moving to get up. You almost want to hiss at the idea that floats through your mind on artificial angelic wings. What was he touching? The terran side of you? Or maybe it was the trarkrans? It's a ridiculous notion. You are … are you still terran? Your abacus doesn't even know. It damn near malfunctions on itself when it samples your DNA. You're not a terran, you're not even tetigit any more, but some secret fucked up third thing. No, you're about to be sick again. You can feel the bile rising, the others crowding around you in an attempt to show their support and care. But it's too much. Gesturing for them to back up, you flee. "I'm fine," you shout over your shoulder as you continue to go. "I'm fine. I'm fine." <a data-passage="9.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if hasVisited("7.02TeachHer")>>\ Sighing, you shift your direction, planning to now head towards the elevators after receiving direction. "Where is she?" "She hasn't come out of her room since <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>you woke up.<<else>>we returned.<</if>> She refuses to submit her report until she can figure out how to tell Vittorio that she wants to quit." "Quit?" Zihr nods. "She hasn't told me why. She won't answer." "And you think she'll answer for me?" "I know for a fact that she'll answer for you." Doing this is probably helpful, giving you a chance to evade your own thoughts and focus on something else. Nodding, you get to your feet and begin heading to the elevator. Once on your floor, you head to Checl's room. "Checl?" you start, pressing the call button and then requesting to be let inside. <<if $prebreakup_checl is 1>>\ "I already told them I'd be out in a moment. And I really don't want to talk to you right now." "Sucks. Should've come out if you wanted that. Let me in." You're aware of the fact that she holds the power here. If she doesn't let you in, then you're just standing out here, choosing to either annoy her into submission or walk away. Time ticks by with the door staying exactly where it was before, until finally, it slides apart. Entering, you find her in the bed, the covers pulled over her head so that you see nothing but her head feathers. You're not sure whether this is purely due to what Zihr and Ne0 told you, or whether rejecting her the other day also shoulders some of the blame. <<else>>\ "I'll be out in a moment," she answers, but that only pulls an eye roll out of you. "You've had hours to do that and haven't. Let me in." Time ticks by with the door staying exactly where it was before, until finally, it slides apart. Entering, you find her in the bed, the covers pulled over her head so that you see nothing but her head feathers. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.02.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ There are few places that you can escape. But it has always been that way. Back on Genesis, everything felt so free and open, a world to discover, and besides some well-wishes from your mother, it was yours to venture. You haven't felt that since. A world so open and vast, the damn galaxy truly at your fingertips, and there was nowhere to go. Your escape this time is simply your room. You close the door and tell the system that you want no guests, no interruptions, to keep everything silent. And with that said, you go and lie down. Dimming the lights and turning on ambience that evokes the emptiness of space. <a data-passage="9.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"I think I've seen you like this only one time." She doesn't say anything, nor does she shift. "It was your first day working at the cantina, and you were scared out of your mind. I remember you kept asking me if your near-naked outfit was //too// skimpy. Fearful of giving the wrong idea to your co-workers who were walking around in the nude." Once again, you pause to see if she'll say anything. If she hadn't spoken to you earlier or allowed you entry, you'd think she was actually asleep. "The work day went fine, but it was the first day you-" "Ever got mugged," she finishes, sitting up and glaring at you. "What makes you think I want to relive //that// memory?" "What's wrong?" you ask, ignoring her previous question to get straight to the matter. "I'm fine. Just tired." "You suck at lying," you snort. "Zihr and Ne0 told me about why you haven't turned in your report yet. You're trying to figure out how to tell Vittorio that you don't want to hunt anymore, but don't know what that means for your prison sentence." "They talk too much," she grumbles, but you shrug; at least on this matter, you think they spoke just enough. "I … I killed someone, $name." You can see her begin to visibly shake, covering her face with her hands as her talons slowly begin to dig into her flesh. "I pulled the trigger," she sobs, "and now they're dead. I took a life. I don't know how you and Zihr manage to make it look so easy." "You get used to it," you inform. You suppose, in a way, it is weird to be used to killing another. The idea that life is just another thing that can be given and snatched at a moment's notice. It's one of the greatest consequences in life, and you place it on one side of a coin and flip it repeatedly. "Do you remember your first kill?" [[“Yes, a trarkran.”|9.02Trarkran]] [[“No, but there is one that stuck with me.”|9.02StuckWithMe]] [[“I don't think about it.”|9.02DontThinkAboutIt]] [[“Couldn't remember if I tried.”|9.02CouldntRemember]] [[“That won't help you.”|9.02WontHelpYou]]
You hum, remembering it all a bit too clearly. "It was a trarkran. And, it was an accident. It happened when I was just a child." "Seriously?" You nod. "He was beating my little sister, punishing her for-" She gasps, the covers tight in her grip. "I didn't know you had a little sister." You almost roll your eyes at her behavior, but surmise that you can't be too put off. You've kept almost everything about yourself from your team, with no intention of ever rectifying that. "I had two little sisters, a younger brother, and then two older brothers." Her eyes grow even wider before narrowing. "Had?" "Yea," you nod, relaxing on her bed, picking at some of the feathery style threads. You have never considered the preferences different species may have when it comes to bedding. This feathery texture feels too soft and dainty, almost as if it might come apart if you even tug it the wrong way. "They're all dead now." "$name," she starts, but you stop her before she can even think about uttering the rest of that sentence. "Don't. It happened a long time ago. Anyway." Clearing your throat, you go back to the story. "But they were punishing her. I didn't have the stomach to watch. I was bigger and stronger than her, but more importantly, I was her older sibling. I wasn't about to just stand there when I would do anything to swap. Terrans, have this honor code. If you ever try to switch places with someone, they'll have this newfound respect for you. Most of the time, they allow it. Whether they go easier on you because of that respect, or harder to punish you for thinking yourself mighty, doesn't matter; they allow it. Trarkrans … trarkrans act like they didn't even hear you. He kept going, and she just kept crying and screaming until I couldn't take it anymore. I rushed forward and tackled him, wrapped my hands around his throat, and just kept squeezing until he stopped breathing. Didn't realize he wasn't breathing anymore until I was pulled off by other terrans who had been gathered around. I don't think they realized how much I didn't care, just wanted my sister safe." It hasn't occurred to you until just now that they hadn't pulled you off the guard until he had stopped breathing. They wanted him dead even more than you, and they were all too happy to have another do their dirty work to avoid long-term punishment. "Does it haunt you?" "No. I didn't … don't regret it either." <a data-passage="9.02.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"No, but there is one kill that has always stuck with me." "Tell me." "There was this malicious company, the type that if told they'd make a solar for every five bodies they kill, they would've invented cloning the very next day. Nothing was more important than making money, not their workers, morals, or customers. My focus was on one of the heads. I went in with a few others, and we stormed the place. By the time we made it to one of the floors, our presence was already known. There was this one nurien with a gun, we made eye contact, and I reacted first. I killed him. His hesitation and uniform made me curious, so I chose to approach. Right beside him was a dead guard, who looked like they had died from bleeding out. Turns out, the nurien was just a janitor. I'm pretty sure he grabbed that gun off the dead guard and had it because he was terrified for his life. Later, I did more research into his life. Dad of three, divorced, and every solar he made went to his kids who lived with his sister because he wasn't well enough off to house them." "What makes him stick out versus all the others? He can't be the first family guy you killed." "No. He's not. I think it was the circumstance. We were there trying to get rid of leadership to help people like him. Up until that point, it had only been guards. He was the first innocent bystander. A guy there to clean the shit and grime of the building and nothing else, he probably didn't even know how bad management was. I tried to justify it by saying he would've shot me, but I know he didn't have the guts, if he knew how to even fire the damn thing. Plus, I was wearing armor and had shields. A shot wouldn't have killed me. I ruined at least four other lives by taking one. That's why it stayed with me. He wasn't a threat." "At least you feel bad about it." "Sure, but how many others are just like him? I guess that's another reason it stays with me. The knowledge that you have no idea how many others have a story similar to that one. I don't forget, but I damn sure don't think about it with every kill either." "I'm not sure I can do that. Is it hard?" <a data-passage="9.02.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't think about it. Better to focus on the live ones anyway." "You don't think about it at all?" "If I did, I'd probably have gone crazy by now. It's not something you can think about and hope to stay sane afterward." "So … so then what hope is there for me? What am I supposed to do?" <<include "9.02.02">>
"I couldn't remember if I tried." "Really? Was it that insignificant?" "No. More like there's been too many. I think of one time, and then another ends up bleeding into the memory. And another, until I'm getting moments mixed up." "So, then what do I do?" <<include "9.02.02">>
"You know," I start, giving her a sympathetic glance, "that won't help you get over it." "I know," she starts, "I just … hoped." <<include "9.02.02">>
"Look, Checl, our situations are different. What we've been through is different. What I will say is that the feeling you feel right now, the one making you feel all sick and queasy. Cherish it. Let it be a reminder of what you should feel when you kill someone." "But … you-" You wave whatever she's about to say away, a tinge of guilt in your chest that you haven't felt in a very long time. "I'm already broken, Checl. There's no hope for me, but there is for you. Ask someone like Sin, and they'll tell you that what you're feeling is what you should feel. It means you respect life, and even when someone is your enemy, you'll seek alternatives. I'm pretty sure they'd give me up for ten more just like you." "But I don't ever want to do that again," she admits, "I think you were right from the very beginning. A job like this isn't meant for someone like me." "You as in you, or a zeach?" "Maybe both," she admits. "Holding and aiming that gun didn't make me feel powerful. It didn't make me feel in control. I was just as scared then as I was before. As I am now. And I'm expected to do that again?" <a data-passage="9.02.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You have three other people on the team who can pull that trigger." "It's not fair to put that on you guys." "Ne0 sees nothing but logic; it won't shoot if there's no reason to do it. Zihr is a survivalist; if he shoots, it's because he deduced it necessary. And me … well, I was almost kicked out because I didn't know how not to pull the trigger. In short, not one of us would ever make you pull that trigger again." "But?" [[“There's no but.”|9.02NoBut][$checl +=3]] [[“But it is something you should figure out.”|9.02FigureOut][$checl -=3]] [[“But figure out your limits.”|9.02Limits]]
You get to your feet, stretching. "There's no but. I mean it. If you think you're lesser for not being able to pull the trigger, don't. You always came off as the type to talk things over to me anyway." She remains quiet as you start to move towards the door. Once there, you pause. "If you want to quit, then quit. For all we know, Vittorio may have another job in mind for you. But if you're trying to quit simply because of a lack of confidence in yourself or because you think the rest of us see you as lesser, you're wrong. And it's a stupid reason." With that, you go. <a data-passage="9.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"But it is something you should figure out. There'll be times when one of us won't be there, or you'll need to defend yourself, and the only way to do that is by firing a weapon. You can be sad about it afterward, but during, you need to stay focused." She remains quiet as you start to move towards the door. Once there, you pause. "If you want to quit, then quit. For all we know, Vittorio may have another job in mind for you. But if you're trying to quit simply because of a lack of confidence in yourself or because you think the rest of us see you as lesser, you're wrong. And it's a stupid reason." With that, you go. <a data-passage="9.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"But you need to figure out your limits. If you don't want to fight or shoot, you need to always stay close to one of us. You need to invest in uniforms that prioritize protection, and in mods with shields. You need to be prepared for what non-violence means." She remains quiet as you start to move towards the door. Once there, you pause. "If you want to quit, then quit. For all we know, Vittorio may have another job in mind for you. But if you're trying to quit simply because of a lack of confidence in yourself or because you think the rest of us see you as lesser, you're wrong. And it's a stupid reason." With that, you go. <a data-passage="9.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your eyes flutter open at the sound of something tapping against your window. At first, you react lazily, uncaring about whatever or whoever it was. Then, you awaken further, remembering where you are and where your window rests. Pausing to hear if the tapping continues, you soon begin to believe that it was all in your head. Or maybe it was just an insect or debris from the sky cars. Ignoring it, you get comfortable and drift back into sleep, only to hear another set of tapping. Shooting up, you gaze over at the window with a level of scrutiny that only a well-trained, overworked assistant could possess. There is enough awareness in your action to know that if you experience anything in this moment, it's real, but little else. If someone were to come charging in, you'd be dead. That thought sobers you up a bit more, sharpening your attention as you wait to determine whether the tapping is something you dreamed up or real. It feels like you wait for a sign for at least fifteen minutes before a yawn escapes, and you begin to lie back down. It's nearly impossible for anything to be tapping against the glass. Your head hasn't even hit the pillow when you hear the tapping again, this time $hound picks up his head as well, reassuring you that you weren't just hearing things as you both gaze at the window. Grumbling to keep yourself calm, you get out of bed and cautiously approach the window, telling yourself that you are simply doing the rational thing. When presented with an issue, the smartest thing to do was to find a solution. It was probably a dust storm, and small pebbles carried by the wind were hitting the window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Parting the shades, you glance outside, only to find it to be a clear night. A shiver that you refuse to give any type of credence to rides your spine and settles on your shoulder. [[Open the window and look out.|9.03OpenWindow]] [[Go back to bed.|9.03BackToBed]]
You snort as you press the button that opens the window. What you hope to find? Nothing. You're doing this as a precaution. The warm night breeze is the first thing to greet you, a breeze strong enough to carry small pebbles but not much else. Gazing below, you find nothing; looking up gives you the exact same answer. Exactly as you thought. It was just the building settling or rocks hitting the window. Backing away, you close the window with a scowl, feeling a unique kind of silly, even after all your investigations have come up empty, a part of you still shifts uneasily. Heading back to bed, you turn so that you now face the window. The tapping never returns. <a data-passage="9.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
All of this is ridiculous. The side of the building is curved; there's no way someone was outside your window, tapping on the glass. Not only would they find no kind of ledge for purchase, but for them to even scale the side of the building, they had to have gotten past a dozen or so security systems and personnel. There was no sky-car traffic, but it could be a personal or a company ship. Or, even though all appears calm, the wind could have carried rocks this far up. Or … who knows! A dozen other possibilities come to mind, and all of them have a modicum of chance backing them. Heading back to bed, you turn so that you now face the window. The tapping never returns. <a data-passage="9.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The following morning, you trudge to the mess hall, grab a plate of food, and collapse at the closest empty table. The tapping never returned, but neither did your sleep. You got just enough sleep to not feel exhausted, but that didn't mean you weren't still tired and on edge. <<if $prebreakup_zihr is 1 and $cp is false>>\ As you eat, you notice that Ne0 and Zihr are also in attendance, a couple of tables down. Like always, Ne0 seems to have just come for the sake of company, while Zihr is actually eating. You wonder how Zihr would react if you went over and plopped down in a seat, how awkward the air will grow. Stretching, you grumble at the crick that begins to form in your neck and run through your day. Not much to do since there's no bounty and Vittorio hasn't said anything about the next briefing. So, a free day. Eating the remainder of your food, you get up and leave the mess hall, heading back to your room to take a shower and then get your day started, whatever that includes. <a data-passage="9.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "$name," you hear someone say and you glance over to see <<if $cp>>Checl sitting with the others, a wide smile on her face as she gestures for you to come over.<<else>>Zihr sitting with Ne0, a friendly enough smile on his face as he gestures for you to come over.<</if>> [[Act like you didn't hear them.|9.04LoneBreakfast]] [[Go and sit with them.|9.04TeamBreakfast][$team +=1]] <</if>>\
You behave as if you hadn't heard them, passing off the look in the direction as if you were just looking around. It's a pitiful attempt, but you're not in the mood for company. Stretching, you grumble at the crick that begins to form in your neck and run through your day. Not much to do since there's no bounty and Vittorio hasn't said anything about the next briefing. So, a free day. Eating the remainder of your food, you get up and leave the mess hall, heading back to your room to take a shower and then get your day started, whatever that includes. <a data-passage="9.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Picking up your tray, you move over to their table, sitting down and releasing a long yawn. <<if $cp>>\ "Did you not sleep well, $name?" Checl questions and you shrug. You're not about to talk about your invisible window guest. "What are you guys up to today?" you ask as you begin picking at your food. "Shopping!" Checl chimes in, the way she lights up at the idea makes you slightly envious. There is nothing you can think of that would cause you to react similarly. Decades old, and you have no hobbies that don't have to do with plotting and training. Part of you feels like you should join her, seeing that your wardrobe is still pretty sparse. But it seems like a wasted effort when you'll end up leaving them all behind anyway. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "I'm going to go catch up on some leads," Zihr tells the three of you. "Then catch up with my mentor." "How is Zyrith?" "Last time I spoke to him, it sounded like he's running up a spire due to Prourc's various rules." "Sounds like everything is fine then," you snort. "Did he say anything about how well Prourc's business is going?" "Yes, it's going pretty well. Something about Prourc even buying items from others and hoping to become a pillar in the community." You nod and chew. All of this sounds about right, especially after what Prourc had told you about his father. <<else>>\ "I'm going to go catch up on some leads," Zihr tells the three of you. "You got some?" He shrugs. "Maybe. Sin was able to get me in touch with this one raza historian. Though I'm not sure how much they'll speak to me since I'm caste-less." "You'd think a historian wouldn't care about that." "I thought a lot of stuff before I came here. Feels like I'm a rookie all over again, trying to figure out how things work. But here," he shakes his head in disgust but you don't push him to continue, you already know. The Outlands didn't hold much etiquette. In a way, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the galaxy. Lawless places always are. <</if>>\ "How about you, Ne0?" Checl asks, turning her attention to the draqe. "Unknown." "You can come with me if you like." "Ne0, don't fall for that again," Zihr warns, glancing down at his nails. "I don't have the time or patience to remove any more paint. I don't even think I managed to get it all last time." "I'm obviously missing some context clues," you point out, glancing over at Ne0 as if a simple glance will provide it. <<else>>\ "You look like shit," Zihr snorts. "Thank you," you sneer, "that's exactly what I want to hear this early in the morning." "Inadequate sleep?" Ne0 questions, and you shrug, not wishing to speak about your new invisible-window guest. "Do we have anything on the to-do list?" you question, beginning to eat. "No. Free day," Ne0 tells you. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "I'm going to go catch up on some leads," Zihr tells the two of you. "Then catch up with my mentor." "How is Zyrith?" "Last time I spoke to him, it sounded like he's running up a spire due to Prourc's various rules." "Sounds like everything is fine then," you snort. "Did he say anything about how well Prourc's business is going?" "Yes, it's going pretty well. Something about Prourc even buying items from others and hoping to become a pillar in the community." You nod and chew. All of this sounds about right, especially after what Prourc had told you about his father. <<else>>\ "I'm going to go catch up on some leads," Zihr tells the two of you. "You got some?" He shrugs. "Maybe. Sin was able to get me in touch with this one raza historian. Though I'm not sure how much they'll speak to me since I'm caste-less." "You'd think a historian wouldn't care about that." "I thought a lot of stuff before I came here. Feels like I'm a rookie all over again, trying to figure out how things work. But here," he shakes his head in disgust but you don't push him to continue, you already know. The Outlands didn't hold much etiquette. In a way, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the galaxy. Lawless places always are. <</if>>\ "How about you, Ne0?" you ask, turning your attention to the draqe. It sits quietly for a moment before straightening. "Unknown." "You have nothing planned?" It shakes its head. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.04.01"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>\ "Checl thought to give Ne0 a makeover and used droid paint to do it." "How was I supposed to know that a draqe isn't like an android?" "Draqe," Zihr starts raising one hand, then the other. "Android. Draqe. Android. Those two don't sound the same." "You could have also asked Ne0," you state, causing her to pour harder. <<if $checlne0 >=2>>\ "Acceptable consequence," Ne0 finally voices, managing to sit there and look almost pleased with itself. "Checl's happiness. Wanted." You exchange a glance with Zihr who sighs, waving its words away as he grabs his tray. "Fine, whatever, but don't come to me next time to help fix your problem." "You can always buzz me," you find yourself saying, shocked as the words come out. None of them eye you wearily or ask what happened to $name. Instead, Zihr grumbles under his breath that he'll help out too then, Checl just seems content with herself, and Ne0 nods its thanks. <<else>>\ "I don't like how we're all building on me. Ne0 could have said something too," she points out, not entirely wrong. Ne0 just shrugs. "It's your fault for leaving the two of them unsupervised," you snort, glancing over at Zihr, who almost spits out his drink. "I would say the same, but knowing you, <<if $humor >=50>>you'd know better, but still join them for the fucks of it.<<else>>you'd stand by and let them do it. Saying afterward, 'I thought that was the whole point.'<</if>>" You grin. "<<if $humor >=50>>Especially when I'm not facing any of the consequences for my actions.<<else>>What's the point of not letting the children find things out for themselves?<</if>>" <<if $humor >=50>>\ "Oh my," Checl laughs, "now I'm wondering how many times you let me do things with that attitude." She pauses, her eyes growing wide. "Wait, that one time you let me 'ride' $hound." "That doesn't count. You technically can ride him, he's just not trained for it, nor will it really work without a saddle." "Hold up," Zihr interjects, "you can ride $hound? Why haven't you ever gotten a saddle for him?" You shrug. "There weren't any in the Outlands. I'll probably do it one day." When that day would be was anyone's guess, the truth is, it wasn't anywhere on your to-do list, and for that, it'll be forgotten until something reminds you of the possibility. <<else>>\ "Children?" Checl squawks, pointing a talon at you. "I'm probably the same age as you, if not older." "Doubtful." "Based on your behavior, I'd say you're the youngest," Zihr adds in, causing her to squawk and throw what looks like a piece of shiny fruit at him. "Like that time you tried riding $hound." "$name said I could!" "$name also just revealed that ?he'll let you do anything because ?he sees it as a lesson." You shrug in agreement. "Technically, you can ride aiczeots. I just haven't bought a saddle, and $hound was never trained to accept riders, so …" It's something you've been wanting to do, but at this point in time, it's not anywhere on your to-do list, and for that, it'll be forgotten until something reminds you of the possibility. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "If you want, you can come with me," Zihr suggests, but you can see the bit of doubt residing in his eyes. "Negative," Ne0 says, "Reflection." "Reflection?" Both you and Zihr ask at the same time. It only nods, giving you nothing further to work with. "What are you doing?" Zihr asks, and you wave the statement away. "What I always do, train." He prepares to ask another question, but in the end, whatever it is, he keeps to himself. <</if>>\ As you near the end of your meal, you begin to wonder what your day will consist of. Probably the same ol' same ol', training and taking $hound out for his daily run. Once you're finished, you get up along with the others and leave the mess room behind, parting ways to begin your individual days. <a data-passage="9.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $solars +=250>> <</nobr>>\ And thus, the next few days find you settling into a strange but comfortable routine. Training, eating, ignoring the truth that has made your shoulders its home, and doing the bounties assigned to your group. The first one you received, of course, was a no-kill one. Far easier than Gon's but just as annoying, and one you had chosen to stay back from. You can almost see the Supreme Commander delivering the assignment to Sin, telling them exactly which team to give it to. The second came a few days after and was a normal one, the state of being non-important. It shocked even you when you managed to bring them in alive, not even with a wound. <<if $team >=2>>You saw the others a healthy amount. Unlike the past, you began to seek out their table or walk with them to the mess hall to eat.<<else>>You saw little of the others unless you were out on a bounty. All of you kept busy with your various tasks, hobbies, and individual lists.<</if>> <<if $prebreakup_zihr is 1>>Zihr avoided you when possible. In front of the others, he acted the same, though far quieter whenever it meant he would have to speak with you. If the two of you found yourselves in the training room, he'd turn and march straight back out.<<elseif hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>You and Zihr treated each other much the same, neither of you showing any signs that you had shared a kiss and a confession. You understood why you hadn't said anything, but not why Zihr seemed to be on the same train; maybe he needed to think just as much as you did. But, probably not. It is far more likely that he feared running you off.<<elseif hasVisited("8.22Wait")>>You have avoided Zihr as much as possible, while he's been doing everything he can to get you alone. Thankfully, it isn't hard to avoid him when your schedule is so easily predictable, so you simply needed to change it up. He won't say anything in front of others, so you have thus been doing an exceptional job at not having to face the problem he presented to you in the med-bay.<<elseif $prebreakup_checl is 1>>Checl has behaved much like you thought she would. In front of the others, she speaks and acts just as she always would. So well, in fact, that it even makes you pause and think back to whether you ever told her you don't want to be with her. But then, when there's even a sliver of a possibility of the two of you being alone, she bolts.<<elseif hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>Ever since your kiss, things have gotten ... interesting between you and Checl, and not in the way that you'd like. Finding a moment to speak about it feels nigh impossible, and when the rare moment where you can speak about it, you find yourself far too confused, the dark voice returning to remind you of goals and places where Checl cannot follow.<<elseif hasVisited("8.22ReassureChecl")>>You have avoided Checl as much as possible, and thankfully, she seems to understand that you may need space to give a final verdict.<<else>><</if>> The nightly occurrence has been just that. It was a phenomenon that never truly happened again, and yet it seemed to manifest every other night. There were times when you thought you heard tapping, but upon further investigation, you discovered nothing. Other times, you thought you heard something moving in your room, only to surmise it to be $hound. In your mind, something odd was happening, but in reality, there was nothing. Or at least nothing that had proper evidence backing it. This night was no different. You had begun to sleep like you did when you were under the roof of the Dinami. More of a rest than actual sleep. Your mind and dreams linger on the edge of consciousness, one ready to flee as the other sharpened in an instant. You dreamed of … [[… mountains and starry skies.|9.06]] [[… a myriad of alien worlds.|9.06]] [[… thriving forests that stretched on for miles.|9.06]] [[… the overwhelming sea, and the sandy shores that guards them.|9.06]] [[… an expanse of stars and cosmos, never-ending.|9.06]]
Very seldom do you dream, and even more rarely do you dream of the life you would want to live once this is all over. <<if $view >=50>>You can see it quite clearly, even if no part of it is realistic. A life where pain comes in the shape of stubbing one's toe or accidentally tripping on a step. A life where you don't look in the mirror and immediately think about the killer gazing back. Simple. Peaceful.<<else>>A long time ago, you found yourself less excited about the concept of what could be and what may never be. You still dream and imagine the future, from time to time, but you have learned to bury the part of you that feels like it could be anything more than that.<</if>> <<if $view >=50>>A dream indeed.<<else>>Anything more than a dream.<</if>> Today's odd—but not really—occurrence was the sound of your door sliding open. You shiver as you sit up, prepared to find nothing and pondering if you're irked about being right or not. The door never opened, and yet you heard the sound so clearly. Turning your gaze to the closet, you find it, too, is closed. This is becoming annoying, your mind choosing to create phenomena where there are none. Lying back down, you stare up at the ceiling before grumbling. <a data-passage="9.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Getting out of bed, you put on enough clothes to avoid the odd glance, if anyone is even up at this time. $hound follows you out as you head to the elevator and up to the roof, using the code Sin gave you to access it. The night breeze is refreshing, especially after feeling all clammy back in the room. You had chosen the best time for this, too. Tonight was one of those nights that you would call a weekend, back on Genesis. Different planets have different names for their days; you hadn't really paid much attention to Crion's, and that probably wouldn't change. A Friday night here had the streets lit up with the heavy traffic of people going out. The noise from concerts, festivals, and parties loud enough to flow up to your ears, the busy sky traffic, and the assortment of lights from the numerous buildings and advertisements. It's a far cry from what you remember seeing in the Outlands. Here, the starry sky wasn't as clear. Light pollution makes it nearly impossible to see even a few dozen. [[You liked this view better.|9.08]] [[You'd rather the one back in the Outlands.|9.08]]
Jumping the railing, you sit on it and let your feet dangle over the side. It's been days since your trial. Days since you avoided being kicked out of the Nightwalkers and finding a spot on a prison transport. Days since you learned of the DNA cocktail inside of you. A fact that just caused you to expand your ever-growing list of questions to ask once reunited with the Baron. At least these past few days have seen an odd level of peace. Somewhere out there in the vastness of the universe is a planet you once called your home. And on that planet, a place you grew up and were raised in. A forest that you used to run through with your brother, a small fort-like structure that you climbed across and claimed as your own with no desire to re-share it with the outside world that abandoned it. There was a school, a pool, and the grocery store, where a nice old man you recalled smelling of freshly baked bread would always sneak you dessert samples. A library overseen by a mean, grizzled older woman who loved the quiet and seemed to despise kids. But you remember seeing Dante pass her some flowers one time and figured out she had a fondness for them. So, every summer, to beat the insurmountable Arizona heat, you'd bring a collection of flowers (alive, as you had also found out that she abhorred fake ones), and she would point you to where your group could gather—if only you did so quietly. And you could hardly forget about the lonely observatory tower that sat high up on a hill that you rarely visited, but always grew excited when your mother agreed to take you. There, the tour guide would repeat a lesson you had already heard in your classes, but she did it with such avidity that you always wished to hear it again. She spoke of the planets and the stars, of Terra Prime and Genesis, Ehno, and Cronus. All the while, the asteroid belt that separated Ehno from Genesis would fly by overhead. The end of those visits always found you with a goodie bag full of space-related items and candies. You, Dante, Rayna, and Isaias would sort through and see what treasures you had gotten that time, trading what you disliked right before your father would take you all to get ice cream as a treat for being good. <a data-passage="9.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Shit," you grumble, wiping at a watery eye, "when's the last time I thought about that?" The majority of your memories concerning Genesis never went that far back, or at least never to anything concerning //him//. You had stricken him from your memory, cast him to corners and depths so deep, you'd be horrified to learn what else dwells there. The idea that there are memories you hold close to your chest that contain him is sickening, and the worst part is that he's probably still out there. Probably somewhere on Genesis with an entirely new life, perhaps even a new family, and you are all dust to him. There is so little you remember of the man you once called father, nothing but vague, hollow shards of what he looked like and acted like. It's easy to vilify him, make it seem as if he was personally sent to fracture your family before vanishing off the face of the planet. That night … yes, that night you do remember. Yelling had become a constant between your parents. You would always wake up to the sound of raised voices, and sometimes flinch when you heard furniture being violently shoved or something falling and breaking. That particular night, you remember because doors had been slammed, Rayna had run to Camila's room to soothe her while Isaias tried futilely to distract you and Dante. He had grabbed one board game, Swords and Shields, a fantasy game that you secretly despised, but because it was Isaias's favorite, and you craved any moment he agreed to play with you all, you shoved the hatred down. You heard your mother sobbing and could just barely make out the words "if you go" and "never come back." A door slammed, and then there was silence. What pushed you to run out of the room, you will never rightfully know. But an eight-year-old you dashed out into the hallway and towards the stairs just in time to see your father with a bag, storming towards the door. [[“Are you coming back?”|9.09ComingBack]] [[“Don't go, papa!”|9.09DontGo]] [[“I love you.”|9.09LoveYou]] [[“Please?”|9.09Please]]
"Are you coming back?" you remember asking him, your hand gripping onto the banister, nails digging into the grooves of the chipped wood. He needed a break from your mother; he's taken plenty of these breaks. Some lasted longer than others, but he always came back, and for a time, things were good. And yet, as you stood there, something told you that this wouldn't be like those other times. He stopped and looked back at you, most of him cast in darkness, his figure partially outlined by the now-ajar door and the moonlight streaming in through the crack. He looked more like a caught thief than your beloved father. It felt like an eternity had passed before he muttered something you'll never know. You played that memory back again and again. Replaying it so many times that you ended up coming up with a thousand different things for him to say. Assigning different ones based on your mood. One day, he answered you, saying, 'Yes, I love you.' Another, it sounded like 'Go back to sleep, $name.' And on the days you just needed a reason to hate him more, he said 'Goodbye.' <<include "9.10">>
"Don't go, papa!" you remember telling him, your hand gripping onto the banister, nails digging into the grooves of the chipped wood. At that exact moment, it didn't matter if he ever loved your mother. You wanted him too, but even more, you wanted to know that he loved you enough to stay. He would live an unhappy life, with an unhappy wife, all because his love for you mattered more. Of course, reality didn't quite play by the same rules and didn't care about your 'love is magical' outlook at the time. He muttered one last thing to you as he walked out that door. What he muttered, you'll never know. You can't rightfully remember if he muttered it or said it loud enough for you to hear, but your own thrumming heartbeat blocked it out. That memory played back so many times, and you probably came up with a thousand different things for him to say. Assigning different ones based on your mood. One day, he said, 'I'm sorry.' Another, it sounded like 'Go back to sleep, $name.' And on the days you just needed a reason to hate him more, he said 'Goodbye.' <<include "9.10">>
"I love you," you remember declaring, your hand gripping onto the banister, nails digging into the grooves of the chipped wood. He had stopped and looked back at you. You remember it felt like forever before he finally muttered something and then left. What he muttered, you'll never know. That memory played back so many times, and you probably came up with a thousand different things for him to say. Assigning different ones based on your mood. One day, he said, 'I love you too.' Another, it sounded like 'Go back to sleep, $name.' And on the days you just needed a reason to hate him more, he said 'Goodbye.' <<include "9.10">>
"Please," you remember uttering, your hand gripping onto the banister, nails digging into the grooves of the chipped wood. So badly did you wish to run the rest of the way, wrapping your arms around him and begging him further. In your mind, all of this was temporary. He loved your mom, and your mom loved him. And that was all that mattered. You're not sure if you liked learning that love didn't solve or conquer all, or even anything. That all those movies and books lied. That sometimes, mommy and daddy didn't love one another and never would. He had stopped and looked back at you. You remember it felt like forever before he finally muttered something and then left. What he muttered, you'll never know. That memory played back so many times, and you probably came up with a thousand different things for him to say. Assigning different ones based on your mood. One day, he said, 'Take care of them.' Another, it sounded like 'Go back to sleep, $name.' And on the days you just needed a reason to hate him more, he said 'Goodbye.' <<include "9.10">>
Even your adolescent mind understood that it didn't matter; he never came back. Never contacted any of you, never sent a happy birthday text, and as far as you know, never even knew what his unborn son, Dimitri, looked like. He made a promise to forever be in your life, and he broke that promise without even a second glance back. When that door closed, it closed for //his// chapter regarding you, not the other way around. For years, you tried to figure out why. You debated it both on your own and with your siblings; none of you, but Isaias, ever brave enough to ask your mother, and she never gave an answer. She just … deteriorated. Five kids, two of them just wee babies, and nowhere to turn. Was it your fault? Did you or one of your other siblings do something that made them argue? You didn't always get along; sometimes you and your siblings fought, and he never liked that. There was even a time when you blamed Camila and Dimitri. He didn't want them, just the four of you, and now there were two more added to the mix. You grew up, realized that things like bills and taxes existed, and that a wide range of factors could dampen a relationship. And yet, that didn't stop your eight-year-old voice from piping up every now and then, directing a thumb at themselves to carry useless and unjustified weight. <a data-passage="9.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A nice, languorous breeze rolls past, patting your cheeks. What did any of that matter? Except, it felt like it was the only thing that mattered. You chase after the past with vengeance in your step, dressing it up as a desire for answers and closure. The present is speculative, the future is intimidating, and so you keep your gaze on the past. You can't change it, and that's the point. It's finite. A point now solidified in history. No need to doubt its place or make guesses about what will happen to it. Not like all of these new problems. Not like the Supreme Commander who could snap her fingers and send you packing, or this mysterious assailant whose face is as much a creation of shadow and darkness as any other. <<if $zihrRoPo >=3 and $checlRoPo >=3>>And not like whatever this is with Zihr and Checl.<<elseif $zihrRoPo >=3>>And not like whatever this is with Zihr.<<elseif $checlRoPo >=3>>And not like whatever this is with Checl.<<elseif $sinRoPo >=3>>And not like whatever this is with Sin.<<else>><</if>> <<if $zihrRoPo >=3 and $checlRoPo >=3>>\ One of the smartest things you've done is flirt with not only Checl, but Zihr as well. Why welcome just //one// problem into your life when you can have two? And choosing two as opposite as Checl and Zihr. One a sweetheart, the other, constantly arguing with you simply because you breathed too loudly. You're surprised neither has said anything about your actions. Zihr probably didn't realize it, but Checl surely has. Regardless, does it matter if you care about them? Real or fake? You'll be leaving both of them once the opportunity arises. Plus, even if you were any kind of serious, you'll have to make a choice or risk losing both. That's even if you care enough. //Note: This will either allow you to continue pursuing either or both characters, kicking the relationship up a notch. Or will end it. You can still pursue other characters; this is not a final lock-in. But you will not have another chance in ''this'' book to romance Zihr or Checl. Also, realize that when romancing multiple characters, during some scenes, you will not have a choice of whose scene you get.// <<if $prebreakup_checl is 1>>\ [[You care about neither.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $flirt_zihr to false]] [[You care about both.|9.11Cont][$checlRoPo +=1; $zihrRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_checl is 2]] [[You would rather give up Checl, keeping Zihr.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Zihr, keeping Checl.|9.11Cont][$flirt_zihr to false; $checlRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_checl is 2]] <<elseif $prebreakup_zihr is 1>>\ [[You care about neither.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $flirt_zihr to false]] [[You care about both.|9.11Cont][$checlRoPo +=1; $zihrRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_zihr is 2]] [[You would rather give up Checl, keeping Zihr.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Zihr, keeping Checl.|9.11Cont][$flirt_zihr to false; $checlRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_zihr is 2]] <<else>>\ <<if hasVisited("8.22ReassureChecl") or hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>\ [[You care about neither.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $flirt_zihr to false; $prebreakup_checl is 3; $prebreakup_zihr is 3]] [[You care about both.|9.11Cont][$checlRoPo +=1; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Checl, keeping Zihr.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $zihrRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_checl is 3]] [[You would rather give up Zihr, keeping Checl.|9.11Cont][$flirt_zihr to false; $checlRoPo +=1]] <<elseif hasVisited("8.22Wait") or hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>\ [[You care about neither.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $flirt_zihr to false; $prebreakup_zihr is 3]] [[You care about both.|9.11Cont][$checlRoPo +=1; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Checl, keeping Zihr.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Zihr, keeping Checl.|9.11Cont][$flirt_zihr to false; $checlRoPo +=1; $prebreakup_zihr is 3]] <<else>>\ [[You care about neither.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $flirt_zihr to false]] [[You care about both.|9.11Cont][$checlRoPo +=1; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Checl, keeping Zihr.|9.11Cont][$flirt_checl to false; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You would rather give up Zihr, keeping Checl.|9.11Cont][$flirt_zihr to false; $checlRoPo +=1]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $zihrRoPo >=3 and $zihr >=50>>\ It's been a few days, and you still haven't addressed the elephant in the room with Zihr. In fact, you have avoided it. Luckily, Zihr wasn't the type to want this out publicly, so all you had to do was avoid him, which wasn't exactly hard. You would notice him before he noticed you and would thus go the opposite way. It meant you had to skip out on some training sessions, but your mind wrote them off as justifiable sacrifices. You close your eyes, and an image of Zihr appears. The raza from the Outlands with a high-strung moral compass and an argument kink. That's who you decided to have conflicting feelings for. One of these days, you won't be so lucky. He'll corner you, or you'll naturally find yourself alone with him, and it'll come up. The forbidden topic of 'us.' <<if hasVisited("8.22Wait")>>And he won't let you walk away, not like last time. He'll want an answer, and you'll have to give him one if you ever want to be more than just … friends. That word still felt weird on your tongue.<<elseif hasVisited("8.22ZihrPreBreakup")>>Or, maybe it won't. You told him there was no 'us' and that you didn't see him as such. Whether or not he took you seriously is another matter. Whether or not you took yourself seriously, is as well.<<else>>You run your tongue against your lips, thinking about that kiss. Thinking about a lot of things, actually. Zihr had feelings for you and you …<</if>> Taking a deep breath in, you focus on the truth of it all, ignoring the smart thing, and just on your actual feelings. A task easier said than done. //Note: This will either allow you to continue pursuing Zihr and kick the relationship up a notch, or will end it. You can still pursue Zihr and other characters; this is not a final lock-in. But you will not have another chance in ''this'' book to romance Zihr.// [[You want to be with Zihr.|9.11ZihrRo][$zihrRoPo +=1]] [[You … you didn't like him like that.|9.11ZihrNo][$flirt_zihr to false]] <<elseif $checlRoPo >=3>>\ Is it any shock that it is Checl? The zeach you saved that day in the Outlands has decided to stick with you from then on. Your relationship with her is odd. You've been contemplating it ever since you allowed her to stay by your side. She has made her interest in you obvious. So obvious in fact that at times it feels like she's more congruent with a lost, love-sick pup than someone who possesses a harmless crush. It's that truth alone that has bothered you ceaselessly. You don't fear Checl putting a dagger in your back or kicking you off a transport. Out of everyone near you now, she has seen so many shades of you that she probably has the clearest picture of who you are. "So then what are you scared of?" you question aloud, tapping a nail against the metal railing. "She won't betray you; she doesn't have a betraying bone in her body." Tsering did, you just didn't think it would be used against you. Zihr does as well, but it would only activate under the right circumstances. Checl, bless her, but she would allow herself to be arrested before even telling law enforcement where you are. "So what is it?" you shout, this time to the city, and you even wait patiently for it to scream back. It's not the city that screams back, but the darkened filaments overhead, periwinkle stars blinking in and out as if that is their answer. She doesn't know you, not really. If she knew you, she'd be terrified. And the truth of the matter is, it may break you to see Checl fearful of you. The one person who has seen less than a quarter of the darkness that dwells within and she hasn't turned away, but she hasn't seen all of it. She's seen you do some bad things, things that she doesn't agree with, but she stands beside you. What happens when she sees more? Do you discover her breaking point, and can you handle it? //Note: This will either allow you to continue pursuing Checl, kicking the relationship up a notch. Or will end it. You can still pursue Checl and other characters; this is not a final lock-in. But you will not have another chance in ''this'' book to romance Checl.// [[No, you can't.|9.11CheclNo][$flirt_checl to false]] [[Yes … for now at least.|9.11CheclRo][$checlRoPo +=1]] <<elseif $sinRoPo >=3>>\ That shaph weasels their way into your mind, something that has been happening quite a lot recently. From the beginning, you have been curious about their motives, and only now does it occur to you that both of you have been going back and forth. They wanted to know about you, and you wanted to know why. As they hunt for more information on you, you try to parse out the reasons why they even cared. And then they told you that their interest went beyond just your past, and it threw you into a spiral so deep that it makes your head hurt just to consider it. For some reason, believing that Checl or Zihr had feelings for you would go over better. But Sin, the well-adjusted Commander, seems to know exactly where their life is going and what they need to do to reach optimal happiness. They know what they want, and for some reason, it's you. You're not sure whether that's the scarier part. //Note: This will either allow you to continue pursuing Sin, kicking the relationship up a notch. Or will end it. You can still pursue Sin and other characters; this is not a final lock-in. But you will not have another chance to romance Sin, ''period''.// [[But you're willing to see.|9.11SinRo][$sinRoPo +=1]] [[And you'd rather not find out.|9.11SinNo][$flirt_sin to false; $sinRoPo to 0; $prebreakup_sin to true]] <<else>>\ Bringing this rooftop therapy session to a close, you head back over the railing and grab a sleeping $hound's attention, going back inside and back to your floor. Your steps falter, all that recollection had caused you to forget the entire reason you got out of bed in the first place. The peace that you found atop the rooftop flees as a sense of discomfort returns. As you near your room, you stare at the door as if it's in collusion with whatever weird occurrence is happening. An impatient $hound is the only reason you decide to move, unlocking the door and going inside. $hound trots over to his favorite spot, showing no signs of discomfort or that something is off. <<if $markings is "pink">>Focusing, you use your abilities to see the scope of the room, detecting whatever this ability allows you to. Gazing around, you see nothing other than $hound. Unless your visitor can slip under your perception, there's no one here.<<else>>Regardless, you check every corner of the room, making sure that no one is there. The room is empty, aside from the obvious two occupants.<</if>> Sighing, you try to tell yourself—once again—that this can all be explained. It's not a ghost or some uninvited guest who couldn't get inside even if they tried. And so, you go to bed, your mind empty, allowing you to fall into it easily. <a data-passage="9.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<nobr>>\ <<if $prebreakup_zihr is 1>> <<set $prebreakup_zihr to 2>> <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ You want to be with Zihr. The thought makes your heart flutter, but also brings that shadowy colossus down upon you. Its grin is wide and equal parts inimical as it is petrifying. As always, it mocks you for being not only an idiot but also selfish. You're not planning on staying here, so what will you do then? Will you tell Zihr to wait for you, then return and act like nothing happened? What will you be willing to tell him? To uncover about yourself and hope that he doesn't shy away in disgust or horror? Or maybe, it doesn't matter. You breathe out. Maybe you're fine with the idea that Zihr only knows the 5% you let everyone see. You'll show him this postmortem version of yourself and never let it be known that the talking corpse isn't even remotely the real you. Or maybe it is. You're not sure who you are anymore, so why would anyone else? <<include "9.11Cont">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $prebreakup_zihr is 1>> <<set $prebreakup_zihr to 3>> <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You have ended things with Zihr ... for now at least.<</notify>><</if>>\ You … you're okay with letting this go, officially. There's a specific level of focus you need to do all the things on your list, and Zihr is a distraction. There's no getting past that. You're not planning to stay here, and you're not sure when you'll be back, if you ever do return. Why grab baggage only to leave it? A part of you feels uneasy, like you're leaving something up here on this roof by deciding this<<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>, especially after you kissed Zihr a few days ago. Explaining that one when the time comes … yea, that'll be fun.<<else>>.<</if>> <<include "9.11Cont">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $prebreakup_checl is 1>> <<set $prebreakup_checl to 2>> <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ It is one of the most selfish decisions you have made in a very long time. But you want to make it. It doesn't matter that you aren't going to be sticking around; you'll deal with that when it arrives. You want to be close to Checl, to finally give yourself what you have been craving for so long. To finally be able to hold her without thinking about all the reasons why you shouldn't. Perhaps you still will, but at least you have come to terms with it. A less blinded attack and more of just willful ignorance. <<include "9.11Cont">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $prebreakup_checl is 1>> <<set $prebreakup_checl to 3>> <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You have ended things with Checl ... for now at least.<</notify>><</if>>\ No. You fear her ever seeing the darkness that you carry, the trauma that rides you like an ignorant rider atop an exhausted and broken steed. To her, you are a terran with a mysterious and violent path. You are more than fine keeping it that way, especially since you don't plan to stay here. Let this version of $name be all that she knows. Let her be able to look at you, and even if it's not real, even if there is some sort of fabrication amidst all of it. Let it be that she believes it true. <<if hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>This would've been helpful knowledge to possess before kissing her, but you have already established that you don't think ahead about these sorts of things.<</if>> <<include "9.11Cont">>
But … something about Sin makes you feel warm. It's a feeling that you have never experienced before with another, and yet, whenever Sin is around, there's a sense of safety. Being near them feels like there is hope for normalcy. No games are being played with Sin, no back and forth confusion—or at least confusion from Sin and their feelings, you are another matter entirely. It may be selfish, but you don't want to let that go. You don't want to lose that sense of security, not yet. When you're preparing to leave, then maybe, but as of right now, you want to just exist in their sphere. To maybe learn something new about yourself that only someone as open as Sin can reveal. <<include "9.11Cont">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You have ended things with Sin.<</notify>><</if>>\ The fact of the matter is, no matter what Sin believes they see in you, it's not real. Guessing your occupation doesn't mean they know you, and even if it did, it would still mean little when the $name that you're showing them isn't the real one. The truth is, you don't even know who you are. The last thing you want is to bring someone as grounded as Sin along for a pointless trip. Your life is going to take you away from the hunters; there's no changing or challenging that. So what is the point of pushing this further than what you already have? Creating false positives when there are none. <<include "9.11Cont">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $prebreakup_zihr is 1 and $flirt_zihr>> <<set $prebreakup_zihr to 2>> <</if>>\ <<if $prebreakup_checl is 1 and $flirt_checl>> <<set $prebreakup_checl to 2>> <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ Bringing this rooftop therapy session to a close, you head back over the railing and grab a sleeping $hound's attention, going back inside and back to your floor. Your steps falter, all that recollection had caused you to forget the entire reason you got out of bed in the first place. The peace that you found atop the rooftop flees as a sense of discomfort returns. As you near your room, you stare at the door as if it's in collusion with whatever weird occurrence is happening. An impatient $hound is the only reason you decide to move, unlocking the door and going inside. $hound trots over to his favorite spot, showing no signs of discomfort or that something is off. <<if $markings is "pink">>Focusing, you use your abilities to see the scope of the room, detecting whatever this ability allows you to. Gazing around, you see nothing other than $hound. Unless your visitor can slip under your perception, there's no one here.<<else>>Regardless, you check every corner of the room, making sure that no one is there. The room is empty, aside from the obvious two occupants.<</if>> Sighing, you try to tell yourself—once again—that this can all be explained. It's not a ghost or some uninvited guest who couldn't get inside even if they tried. And so, you go to bed, your mind empty, allowing you to fall into it easily. <a data-passage="9.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> It's quiet. Quiet enough that if you hadn't been on guard the last couple of nights, you wouldn't have even heard it. The faint sound of shifting. Of boots making impact with the floor and materials being moved around inconspicuously. Your chest rises and falls as you shoot up and glance around, terrified. You're … terrified. When was the last time you actually felt this amount of fear? The Dinami? The racks? That wasn't fear so much as pain and the want to be removed from this plane of existence. No … it was with the Baron. Watching that fire engulf the dome and knowing that no matter how fast you ran, how much you dodged and screamed, you wouldn't find your little sister. Getting up out of bed, you glance around and notice a select few things out of place. Moved and adjusted in such a way that told you that you were being played with. Whoever had been in here didn't take anything. They watched you. Studied you. Got close enough to probably even kill you, but instead chose to move a few things around. A competent and skillful asshole. Their actions are evidence of that truth. They wanted you to come to grips with how they could have done anything they wanted, but instead decided to move only things around; someone with less perception might not have even noticed. Something else you knew that they knew. Not Tsering. Despite all of his skills, stealth has never been one of them. He'd choose to walk out in the middle of a gunfight in hopes of persuading everyone to stop firing rather than to creep around the edge, hoping to go undetected. Your mysterious assailant? Probably. But it does so little to clarify who they are or why they are after you. A fellow Nightwalker? It seems logical enough. You haven't gone out of your way to make enemies, but it still happened. There are plenty of leaders here who dislike you. Is it so difficult to imagine them sending one of their charges after you? A ghost ... You snort. That one actually makes the most sense. //Note: Choosing to find some place else to sleep isn't strictly a romantic choice. If you are not romancing Sin, then you cannot visit them, but everyone else is still an option. If you ARE romancing Sin then you must visit them to continue the romance.// [[Lie back down. This will not move you.|9.12LieBackDown]] [[Go and find some place else to sleep.|9.12SomePlaceToSleep]]
You lie back down, determined to show your new stalker that their actions do not faze you. If they want to try again, they are welcome to make an attempt. You must thank them, at the very least. Their constant attacks, if this is the same person, are only reminding you of all the things you used to be and what you must once again become. Once upon a time, you never fully slept. Brief moments where your eyes closed and the slightest sound saw you at full alert. You need that back. You will get that back, and like everything else, it comes with practice. Today will be the first night of such practice.. [[Grab a pistol.|9.12Pistol]] [[Go back to 'sleep.'|9.12Sleep]]
Before getting comfortable, you walk over to your closet and grab your pistol. Checking that the safety is on, you wander back over to the bed and lie down. Let them come into your room again; perhaps they can show you how skillful they are at speaking with a bullet-riddled chest. Repeating that to yourself, you close your eyes, commanding your heart to calm down, only to find yourself crestfallen when it never does. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
For a moment, you consider grabbing a pistol and putting it under your pillow, but decide against it. You want whoever it is to know that they did nothing but irritate you. You are not afraid, and you don't need a weapon to take them down. Repeating that to yourself, you close your eyes, commanding your heart to calm down, only to find yourself crestfallen when it never does. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
At the very least, they succeeded in making you uncomfortable. You refuse to call this a victory for them, but you're tired and would rather have an extra pair of eyes; the mental thought has you throwing yet another glare at $hound. How quiet and stealthy could the person have been to avoid $hound's senses? $hound who detects movement through the air and ground vibrations. The thought pushes you further into a realm of discomfort, reinforcing your wish to leave the room. <<if $cp>>\ [[Go to Checl's.|9.12Room.Checl]] <</if>>\ [[Go to Zihr's.|9.12Room.Zihr]] [[Go to Ne0's.|9.12Room.Ne0]] <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ [[Go to Sin's.|9.12Room.Sin]] <</if>>\
Summoning $hound to your side with a few clicks, you get up and leave your room behind, marching down the hall to where her room resides. It only occurs to you halfway there that you probably should've called her first to see if she is even in and up to you visiting. <<if $prebreakup_checl is 2>>You have yet to talk to her about your feelings and how you have gone back and forth between breaking her heart and then mending it for what feels like your own pleasure. If she lets you in, you suppose tonight is the time. You would be lying if the thought of being put in a position to do this didn't make you freeze up, a shiver of anxiousness flooding your veins. But your footsteps continue moving forward, pushing you towards her room.<<elseif $prebreakup_checl is 3>>You'll have yet to talk to her about your feelings and how you said one thing, but now mean another. An act that will surely break her heart and make it seem like you enjoy playing with it for your own pleasure. If she lets you in, you suppose tonight is the time. You would be lying if the thought of being put in a position to do this didn't make you freeze up, a shiver of anxiousness flooding your veins. But your footsteps continue moving forward, pushing you towards her room. You'll need a backup in case she throws you out, something you're not sure whether she'll do or not.<<else>>You also realize that unless you plan on lying, you'll have to come clean about why you would rather sleep in her room than your own.<</if>> <<if $checlRoPo >=3 or $prebreakup_checl is 2 or $prebreakup_checl is 3>>Once at her door, you knock, unraveling the knot in your gut even more. Why does this make you more nervous than the intruder in your room? Part of you would rather just deal with them instead. This is daft. You stand out here like some spurned lover who either has something more to say or who is prepared to beg for forgiveness.<<else>>Once at her door, you knock.<</if>> "$name?" Checl questions, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the sleep still clinging to her drooping eyes. "What are you …" She trails off, and it takes you far too long to figure out why. Yet something else you overlooked. Standing in front of her in your pajamas. [[They were classic pajamas.|9.12ClassicPajamas]] [[Your go-to-sleep clothes have always been shirt and shorts.|9.12InBetween]] [[Pajamas is one word to describe the bare minimum.|9.12BareMin]]
You're not quite sure why she would be surprised; they were your classic pajamas. Or at least classic in terms of what Genisers would wear to sleep. When you were small, you actually had quite a few different sets. You remember the one time where Rayna brought all the siblings the same pajamas, but you can't remember if you wore them any other night but that one. "Ignore what I'm wearing," you mumble, and she does the opposite, her stare not moving. "What are you wearing?" "Pajamas." "That word is not translating over. What is it?" "Sleep clothes." "Ah." She clears her throat, glancing down at her own clothing. They are just as odd to you as yours are to her. Whereas you consider your clothing … well, clothes, she wears nothing more than what looks to be a near-transparent robe made of a very delicate material that looks like it'll come apart if you touch it. "$name … what are you doing here?" <<include "9.12CheclR2">>
Glancing down, you fail to understand what would cause her to pause, besides maybe never seeing you in clothing like this. In the Dreads, you had maybe four or five pieces of clothes, and they were all practically the same. You have certainly never worn shorts in front of her. "Ignore what I'm wearing," you mumble, and she does the opposite, her stare not moving. "It's kind of hard. I don't think I've ever seen your legs." "My eyes are up here, Checl." You don't know whether she understands the reference or is just embarrassed by her gaze, but her feathers rise regardless. "Um," she starts, "what … I mean, why are you here?" <<include "9.12CheclR2">>
Pajama is definitely a word someone may choose to use, if only to say that you're actually wearing some sort of clothing. It hadn't occurred to you that you had walked down the hallway and to Checl's room in nothing but underwear<<if $chest>>and a loose tank top<</if>>. "Ignore what I'm wearing," you mumble, and she does the opposite, her stare not moving. "It's kind of hard to do that." "Try." "Um …" she blinks and shakes her head. "What are you doing here?" <<include "9.12CheclR2">>
"Would you mind if I slept here for the night?" "Weird question." <<if $humor >=50>>"What can I say? I have scary little dreams that cause me to seek out protection."<<else>>"Even weirder answer."<</if>> "Why?" "Does the why matter?" She stiffens, and you realize where this is going. You suppose you can't blame her, if the roles were reversed, you're not entirely sure you'd let her in with a vague answer. [[Lie.|9.12CLie][$checl +=5]] [[Be honest.|9.12CHonest][$checl -=5]] [[Tell a half truth.|9.12CHalfTruth]]
"$hound decided to … redecorate the place with his external waste," you tell her, jabbing your thumb towards $hound, who is sitting on the floor, bored. "Ew," she screeches, her eyes wide. "He's never done that before." "Bad meat," you say, glancing over at him as if it's even possible. You're pretty sure his stomach acid could break down even rancid meat, but that didn't mean she needed to know that. "And don't worry. I already took him outside and gave him some medicine. It's just that I'm sleepy and don't feel like deep-cleaning my room right now." Sighing, she nods, moving out of the way to let both of you in. <<include "9.12CheclR3">>
"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out." "Now I'm worried." "So, don't tell you then?" "First, come inside." That's probably smart. You enter, realizing that this is the first time you've been inside her room. She has decorated far more than you did, and probably will ever do. The difference between your two rooms is astronomical. Entering makes you feel like you're not even in the same building anymore. The only comparisons you can draw between your room and hers are the layout, walls, and floors. But even then, you still feel odd as the floors have what you believe are rugs, and the walls an odd sort of decoration that you're not entirely sure you know the purpose of. <<include "9.12CheclR3">>
"Really? I either tell you or you won't let me in?" She huffs, and at first, you think she's going to let you in regardless, but finally shakes her head. "Tell me." "Okay." "First, come inside." That's probably smart. You enter, realizing that this is the first time you've been inside her room. She has decorated far more than you did, and probably will ever do. The difference between your two rooms is astronomical. Entering makes you feel like you're not even in the same building anymore. The only comparisons you can draw between your room and hers are the layout, walls, and floors. But even then, you still feel odd as the floors have what you believe are rugs, and the walls an odd sort of decoration that you're not entirely sure you know the purpose of. <<include "9.12CheclR3">>
"This is your first time seeing my room, huh?" "I'm guessing the others have seen it plenty of times?" "Oh, yes. Ne0 more than Zihr, but they've been in here so many times that if I moved something, they wouldn't even realize it. We thought about even maybe making our game night permanent." [[You hide the tinge of pain.|9.12TingeOfPain]] [[You continue viewing.|9.12Viewing]]
A tinge of pain threatens to overcome your resolve and shine through, but you're able to dampen it out of pure routine. Repeating your famous line, you clear your throat and continue looking around the room. <<include "9.12CheclR4">>
You hear her, and the words raise the thought you always have, but it doesn't have a chance to linger. You've long ago made peace with your absence in others' lives. <<include "9.12CheclR4">>
<<if $team >=2>>\ "You should join us, I think you'd have fun." That releases a bit of the anxiety that curls around your lungs but you continue to make it seem like nothing has effected you, simply humming in thought. <</if>>\ "Is this how you decorated back on your ark?" "Oh no," she laughs, watching as $hound tries to find some place to rest. After a bit of grumbling, he decides to just take the spot in front of the door, yet another sign of the difference between your room. Hers feels tiny compared to yours; plenty of places to sit, but if you were to have a fight, your room would be the better staging ground. It feels like no matter where you stand, you're in the way of something. "In the ark, you don't have personal space. We all sleep in one big room that has multiple floors and multiple nests." "Like actual bird nests?" "I'm not sure what 'bird nests' look like, but our nests are nothing like the beds that we're given here or the ones, I guess, most people are used to." <a data-passage="9.12CheclR5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Are these styles of beds more uncomfortable?" "The material pulls on our feathers," she tells you, gesturing to them. "And it doesn't really provide the kind of heat I think my species is used to. The blanket helps, but it's not exactly radiating heat like another body." "Buy a heated blanket." She shakes her head. "It's not the same. There's something about sleeping with fewer than a dozen other bodies close by. As a chick, you're used to falling asleep to the sound of another's breathing and heartbeat. Here, it's too quiet. It's like they've done everything possible to keep the volume down." [[“What about the Outlands?”|9.12Outlands]] [[“You slept next to strangers?”|9.12SleptStrangers]] [[“How sensitive are your feathers?”|9.12SensitiveFeathers]]
"What about the Outlands? Was it too quiet there, too?" "No, actually. It's really weird to say, but the ambient sounds of the nightbeasts and the fire cackling down on the street always kind of helped. Not at first, but it was better than nothing." "So, what do you do now?" "I have an ambient playlist for the sounds. Everything else," she shrugs, "I've just gotten used to not having it. I miss it, but it's not like I can change that." <<include "9.12CheclR6">>
"So, in the ark, you slept next to strangers?" "No, but that's because no one in the ark is a stranger. When you're just a chick, you keep to your birth nest for a while. Once you're old enough, you're allowed to move to the main sleep room and choose which nest to sleep in. Usually, you stick with your nest mates, but some choose to sleep with the other adults or the Seniors." "What happens when you find a mate?" "If the mate is part of your ark, then nothing really. You can choose to move to their nest or stay with your own." "So, once you choose a nest, you stay there?" "No, and yes. It's rude to go from nest to nest, but it's not weird to flop back and forth between two or three. It's mostly frowned upon because you may be taking another zeaches spot." <<include "9.12CheclR6">>
"How sensitive are your feathers that they get pulled out by fabric?" "Not all of them are sensitive," she corrects, gesturing to her body. "But our filoplume feathers can be easily plucked if they're roughly moved, like when a blanket rubs against them." "Does it hurt?" "No, not at all. I guess the best comparison is like when strands of your hair come out. A few doesn't raise an alarm, but when a lot of it comes out, especially in one specific area, it creates a bald spot, and-" she shrugs, the action completing her sentence. <<include "9.12CheclR6">>
<<if hasVisited("9.12Lie")>>\ "So, has this ever happened to $hound before?" "You don't remember that one time he ate some junk rats in the Outlands, and I refused to let him out that night so he fucked up the apartment?" "Oh," she laughs, "I do remember that, though I tried to erase that memory. The smell was …" "Yea, I know," you chuckle. <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "Anyway, what happened? Why did you come over?" <<if hasVisited("9.12Honest")>>\ "The past few nights I've been feeling like I've had a visitor." "What?" "I don't know, not really," you admit. "But it feels like someone is messing with me. The first night, there was tapping outside my window. And then the next night, I heard subtle shifts. One time, a door sounded like it was opening. And tonight, items were moved." She stares at you for a moment. At first, you prepare for the accusations and the insinuations that you're just dreaming up every part of this. But, she doesn't. Instead, worry overtakes her features, and she soon begins to stare in horror. "We need to bring this to Commander Sin." "There's nothing to bring to them. There's no proof." "But $name, that's …" she shakes her head, visibly shivering. "I'm sorry. But I'm surprised that you chose here." [[“Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”|9.12TwoPairsofEyes]] [[“Was hoping to sacrifice you.”|9.12SacrificeYou]] [[“I feel safe with you.”|9.12FeelSafe]] <<if $flirt_checl and $prebreakup_checl is 0>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Gives me an excuse to visit.”|9.12ExcuseToVisit]]<<else>>[[Gives me an excuse to visit.|9.12ExcuseToVisit]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "I felt uncomfortable, have been for the past few nights." "Why?" You shrug, keeping to your original decision to only give her so much information. You can't explain what's going on so what hope do you have to do it with another? Checl, drops it. <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
"Two eyes are better than one." "I'm not sure just how well my eyes are." "Aren't they better than mine?" "No, for both personal and species probably." <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I was hoping that if someone was after me, I'd be able to just throw you at them before making my escape." <<if $ticketforone>>"I know you're joking, but you have a track record that tells me that you would definitely do that."<<else>>"Very funny."<</if>> <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Believe it or not," you start, "I feel safe with you." It's odd to say it aloud, but that was the truth. When you decided to go and spend this night with another, Checl was the first to come to mind. You didn't doubt the choice or why. "I'm honored," she mumbles. "It's almost like you trust me." You roll your eyes but say nothing. You suppose, in a way, you do. <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shrug. "It gives me an excuse to see you." "You didn't need an excuse for that," she says, her feathers reacting accordingly. You lean over, carefully wrapping one of them around your finger as you feel the softness of the vane. "Noted." "If you want, I can give you the code for my door. That way you don't ever have to wait for me to open it, you can just see your way in." "I'll think it over." <a data-passage="9.12CheclR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $prebreakup_checl is 1>>\ She sighs, shifting uncomfortably. "$name, you can stay here. Really, I don't mind. But why did you choose me, after what you said?" "I said I don't want to be with you romantically, I never said I didn't consider you a friend." "Yea, I know," she mumbles. "And again, you can stay here, but …" She's unable to hold eye contact with you as she stares at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. "But, my feelings for you won't just disappear because you don't feel the same. You'll have to give me more time. If that's going to even change anything." "It will." "You don't know that, not for sure. I've had a crush on you ever since you saved me from those slavers. I'll admit it was because you saved me at first, but it only evolved into whatever this is. That's almost a year, $name." "I tried to warn you." "You didn't try, you did. But I don't think you understand how feelings and emotions work. You don't look at someone and say, 'Oh, don't have feelings for me,' and that's all that's needed to keep someone from crushing. Seriously, $name, is that how you think things go?" "I never said that." "No, you just implied it." She rolls her eyes as she gets ready for bed, ignoring your existence as you gaze around, spotting a sofa that will serve you well enough. You head over to it and lie down, staring up at the metallic ceiling as her words echo through your mind. You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, wondering if sleep will visit you. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $prebreakup_checl is 2>>\ She sighs, shifting uncomfortably. "$name, you can stay here. Really, I don't mind. But-" "I know what you're about to say," you interrupt, "and I did some thinking." "No," she interjects, holding up her hand with a scowl. "You're not about to tell me that you did some thinking and you regret what you said." You remain silent and her feathers begin to rise as she glares at you. "Do you have fun playing with my feelings? Leading me one way before leading me the other?" "Checl," you try to say but she continues. "And the worse thing is that I let you. I let you lead me on again and again because I hoped and prayed that maybe you finally figured it all out, finally figured us out. Do you know how many times you let me down? How many times I've lied awake trying to figure out if it's me or you." "It has nothing to do with you, it's always been me. I've told you as much." "Then there shouldn't be any need for you to consider the topic of us any longer. Because you didn't change. Nothing about you or whatever your situation is has changed enough for you to suddenly think that this is a good idea." She continues. "What did you reconsider? What made you stop and realize that you do want to be with me?" [[“You.”|9.12You][$ch9bedscene to "checl"]] [[“The now is more important.”|9.12NowIsMoreImportant][$ch9bedscene to "checl"]] [[“I don't know.”|9.12IDK_Checl][$ch9bedscene to "checl"]] <<elseif $prebreakup_checl is 3>>\ She sighs, shifting uncomfortably. "$name, you can stay here. Really, I don't mind. But-" "I should tell you something first," you start, inhaling slowly. "That day in the med-bay, <<if hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>when we kissed."<<else>>when I reassured you that the feelings were mutual."<</if>> "You regret it." "It's not that I regret it," you state firmly, but it doesn't matter. You can already see her eyes widening in understanding and hurt, her feathers drooping as her mandible quivers in anticipation of what she already knows you're about to say. "I shouldn't have <<if hasVisited("8.22CheclKiss")>>done<<else>>said<</if>> it. Us being together isn't going to end well; it's not something I want to put you through." "Oh, I should be honored that you're thinking about my feelings, huh?" "Checl-" "No," she shouts, choking on the word. She hisses, "<<if $ticketforone>>You didn't care about my feelings when you left me stranded in the Outlands, but now suddenly you do?<<else>>You don't care about my feelings, you never did. They're just a convenient tool for you to blame.<</if>> You're a coward." Tears run down her cheeks as she glares at you, heartbroken. "Get out. Find some place else to stay." "Checl, I'm sorry." She shakes her head, a hint of rage appearing as she gestures to the door. "Just go." You do as she says, racking your brain for anything more to say, but coming up with nothing. You just told her you don't want her after having said you did. This was mild compared to how she could act. Exiting her room, you turn to see her standing there, her eyes on the ground before she raises her gaze to meet yours. "I just … I just wished that you loved me too," she whispers, and the doors slide closed. For a while, you're unable to move. You're not sure what keeps you there; it's not like you can hear her sobbing on the other side or have any idea what she might be doing. But your feet don't move, grounding you not only to the spot but also to the moment. You made the right decision; you have to believe that. Now you're back at the beginning, but at least you told Checl. Sighing, you head back to your room, entering carefully. Giving the room a look-over, making sure there's no one inside, you position $hound in front of the door and move a chair to the window. It should give you a warning, if nothing else. Though you doubt that whoever it was before will attempt it again. They've been playing mind games with you; the game would be ruined if they entered again. Or, that's what you tell yourself as you lie down, never quite going to sleep. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $checlRoPo >=3 and $flirt_checl>>\ "Guess this is going to be like a sleepover," she states, going to the side of the bed and plopping down. You follow her lead, lying down on the other as you look at her. There is a nervousness in her actions that causes you to double think your own. "I guess so, not like it's our first." She nods. "But it is our first as …" Awkwardly, she points between the two of you, lowering her head. "Wow, it's going to take me a while to get over the fact that we're actually … pursuing each other? We're not together, right?" "Not like that," you admit, not having thought this far. "Not yet." You suppose it should say something about your current thought process where it took you forever to finally decide to even give the //idea// of you and Checl a chance. You were in no way considering actually being exclusive or partners. "I'm fine with that for now. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me everything. I just … I don't want you to regret this. And I'm scared that you'll realize there's no point to any of this, to us, to me. I know you probably don't feel the same right now, but I really do like you, $name. I'm terrified that-" "Hey, come here," you whisper, not giving her time to react as you grab and pull her close. You bury your face into the back of her neck, inhaling the near lavender perfume. This feels more like a dream than anything, having Checl lying in your arms. "I got you." She turns so that your foreheads are now touching. You drink her in with the thirst of a castaway on a desert, fervent and needy. Your need is reflected in her half-lidded eyes, though a question lies there that you know you won't answer. Checl has always been horrendous at keeping her emotions to herself; this time is no different. Questions flicker in and out of existence, and her mandibles part when one finally seems to stick, but then she abandons it. Second-thinking or not wishing to ruin a mood, you're not sure. She's not stupid; whatever topic is causing this behavior is one she knows you won't answer. So, you distract her. You place your lips to her nose, kissing softly before moving south, kissing the side of her mandible. You always believed that mandibles, regardless of species, would be hard and chitin-like. But hers are soft, as soft as a terran's skin. When she kisses you back, it's more like a soft nibble, the ridges of her mandible delicately touching your lips and adding just enough pressure to allow you to feel something but nothing more. You cradle her face in your hands as you continue your actions, hoping to distract her from the doubts that are plaguing her mind. Whether or not she understands what you're doing doesn't seem to matter as she leans in, holding you close. [[Take it further.|9.12TakeFurther][$ch9bedscene to "checl"]] [[Stay right here.|9.12StayRightHere][$ch9bedscene to "checl"]] <<else>>\ "I miss this," she sighs, running her hands over her duvet. "I miss us." "We've been separated one time, Checl." <<if $ticketforone>>\ "Twice if you count leaving me in the Outlands for your own selfish reasons." "I apologized for that, didn't I?" "I don't think you did," she snorts, "but I'm also not looking for one. Honestly, I wasn't surprised. It hurt. But you've already made it clear that you're that type of person." You frown, unable to truly disagree when you obviously are, but also not liking the implications. "I-" you start, but she silences you, shaking her head. "Seriously, it doesn't bother me. Not like it did Zihr. He wanted to believe you had a shred of nobleness in you, even if it was saved only for those you knew. I at least knew you were a //paysho//." "A what?" you laugh questionably. "A paysho. It's this … kind of bird from my home that can't fly, only glides. It's annoying." "You know I can call you a donkey if you want to play that game." "What's a donkey?" "An ass." The two of you descend into light laughter, silence slowly creeping in once again, but as always with Checl, it's not uncomfortable. You can count on one hand how many people you could exist in silence with, for her to be one of them is something you didn't plan for. And yet, a part of you welcomes it, damn near covets it. It feels like it's been forever and a lifetime since you've been able to sit here with someone and actually feel comfortable. There was Tsering, but his actions have tainted so many of your memories with him. Before him … before him, there was Dante, and that was on Genesis. You're practically the poster child for loneliness. It may not be what you want, but it is what you're comfortable with. A world with just you means no one can hurt or backstab you, and it means you can do no damage to another. "If you need anything," she yawns, "just tell me. Goodnight, $name." You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, hoping to get some kind of rest. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "No," she snorts. "I know that. I mean, just hanging out. In the Outlands, you would walk me home every night, so I never had a moment to miss this. And on the really boring days, we would just hang out in the apartment. I … never realized until now that it was mostly me doing all the talking." She sits up, a frown on her face as she regards you. "Why don't you like talking about your past? At least to me." [[“It's not something I like remembering.”|9.12NotWantRemember]] [[“What's the point?”|9.12WhatPoint]] [[“It's none of your business.”|9.12NoneOfBusiness]] [[Shrug.|9.12Shrug_Checl]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\
Continuing to rest kisses along her mandibles, you carefully rearrange yourself so that you're now on top of her. Your hands wander to her neck, kneading the skin there as your fingers brush over the tiny feathers that protect her actual flesh. "$name!" she gasps as your hand finds purchase on her breast. You hum your acknowledgment, continuing to touch and venture her body. The need to delve further overwhelms you as you pull away her robes, doing so carefully as the soft material practically folds from the air currents of the room. The same short, gray feathers that cover her body also lie against her breasts, hiding her nipples from view. You tease the area, feeling for her nipple and upon finding it, move in to see how she'll react. "This may be too much," she giggles, a nervous hint to her voice, while simultaneously wrapping her legs around your waist. "I dreamed about this, but haven't really prepared for it to happen." You pull back to smirk. "You dreamed about this?" Her feathers stick straight up as she turns away in embarrassment. "Not like that." "There are only so many circumstances you can dream about where my body is on top of yours and I'm kissing and touching you, Checl." "Have you?" she whispers, her voice trailing off. [[“Every night.”|9.12EveryNight]] [[“Have you seen yourself in that skimpy outfit?”|9.12SkimpyOutfit]] [[“Some nights.”|9.12SomeNights]]
"Every night," you whisper against her neck, testing out what a kiss planted there would be like. Inter-species relations were always an adventure filled with both curiosity and slight trepidation. Finding out what an entire species' erogenous zones may be, as well as what may be considered off limits, and that isn't even narrowing it down to them as an individual. But then there was the need for caution, understanding what can cause an allergic reaction or even be poisonous. The actions that could cause chafing or bruising, or places that may be dangerous for a species without the right parts. "So, in the Outlands?" she asks breathless, a clear sign of what your actions are doing to her. "I did say every night, Checl," you grin, continuing to plant kisses and even try out soft bites. Her feathers aren't long or delicate enough to cause a problem for you; at most, they tickle your nose and upper lip, but not much else. <<include "9.12CheclRomance">>
"Have you ever seen yourself in that skimpy dance outfit that Rhys used to make you wear? Hell yea, I've had thoughts and fantasies." "Maybe I'll dance for you privately." The thought causes her to perk up. "I just realized you never requested one back in the Outlands. You could have easily gotten a private room with me." "And figure out how to live with you afterward without any awkward air? No thanks." "But it was a thought." You flick her nose playfully. "I think you're just fishing for compliments now." "I don't know what that phrase means, but I do like compliments," she giggles. Kissing the space right below your eye. "Especially from you." <<include "9.12CheclRomance">>
"Some nights more than others." "It's weird to think you ever had the same thoughts as me. We were mere feet away from one another in the apartments; you could have come by. You knew how much I liked you." "Checl, it took nearly a year for me to get to this point. I think that's enough of an answer to why I didn't do anything beforehand. You could've also come by my room at any time." "That is true. But I'm sure you would've turned me away." "And you wouldn't have done the same?" She rests her hands on your chest, softly kneading your skin with her talons before looking you in the eye again. "I wouldn't have been strong enough for that." <<include "9.12CheclRomance">>
She tightens her hold on you, angling herself in a way that causes you to want to question her until she grinds against you harshly. "I want you," she admits. "But not tonight." "You're the one behaving all deprived," you smirk, dampening your own rising need. You understand why she doesn't want to do anything tonight, but damn does your body want to scream. There is something intoxicating about being in this situation with Checl. Any other zeach just wouldn't do, but it being Checl. The thought of her screaming your name, begging for you to continue exploring her body, the sounds she'll make ... "We should," she starts, grinding against you one last time before uncoiling her legs and pulling away. "We should sleep." "Such a tease," you mumble, once again pulling her against you. If you can't have her in the way you want tonight, you'll at least fall asleep with her in your arms. You bury your face in the back of her neck, breathing her in as you can feel her breath slowing. It took nearly a year for you to get to this point, and there's a part of you that regrets it. If you had never tasted something you wanted, you could at least live with the idea of never knowing if you would have truly liked it or not. But now that you have ... now that you have her in your arms ... You won't stay here; you have no intention of giving up your goal for one person. But maybe … when you return, she'll be here. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You decide to keep it light, dressing up the lie that it's for her sake in a nice, neatly tied bow. In truth, you feel like the entire world is slowing down while also spinning wildly out of control. Trying to focus on Checl works, but only for so long before the headache comes back, and that voice calling you every insult it can think of. "You're always talking about how obvious I am with my emotions," Checl murmurs, her soft pads touching your cheek as she taps her talon against your forehead. "But you're just as bad sometimes. Are you regretting it?" "Never," you admit, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. "But my mind doesn't really like to live in the moment." "You're worried about what happens later?" "I don't know if later is the right word to use, but yea, the gist of it. I like you, Checl, and lying here with you is like a breath of fresh air, but … but I'm notorious in these kinds of things. I-" The words come to a violent stop in your throat, your mind continuing the thought process, but your lips and tongue refusing. Nestling into her and resting your face into her shoulder, you cling to her as if it were possible to squeeze the life out of her. As if the action would dutifully chase away all the dark thoughts gathering. "Can we just lie here?" "Of course," she murmurs, her talons <<if $length is "bald">>softly sliding across your scalp before resting on the back of your neck.<<else>>working <<if $hair is "straight" or $hair is "wavy">>through your hair, combing it out with both an air of awareness and tenderness.<<elseif $hair is "kinky">>through your coils in the way you showed her long ago. You remember that day, showing her how to massage your scalp without getting her talons tangled in your hair or messing up your curl pattern.<<elseif $hair is "curly">>through your curls in the way you showed her long ago. You remember that day, showing her how massaging your scalp is possible without getting her talons tangled in your hair or messing up a curl pattern<<else if $hair is "dreads">>over your dreads, simply feeling the hair without interrupting the matted and twisted hair.<<else>>along your braids, following the contours of the braid itself without pulling a strand loose or interrupting the braid altogether.<</if>> She holds you just as tightly as you do her, both reluctant to let the other go. You stop all your thoughts right there, existing in the understanding that the woman in your arms wants you just as badly as you want her. The fears will return, but for now, you allow the sensation and knowledge that you're here pull you further down into what you hope is more of an abyss than a shallow lake. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's not something I like remembering, so I mostly stay quiet about it." "There's nothing from your past that brings you joy?" "That's not the point. Of course, there are, but thinking about it just makes me remember what I lost and don't have. I'd rather just not think at all." She nods. "I guess I understand, but that's the difference between you and me. I want to return to my past someday." "Oh, I'll return to my past," you snort, crossing your arms as you end the sentence there. <<include "9.12CheclFriend">>
"What's the point of talking about it? It doesn't change anything." "Well, yea, but that's not the point of talking about it. How does someone ever learn about someone else if they don't talk about their past?" "Whatever happened to 'the past doesn't define you?'" "It's a lie, and you know that. The past does define you. It shouldn't entirely make up who you are, but it does mean something. And, I don't think I'll ever truly know who you are until you tell me. All I know is that you're a terran from Genesis, not Prime. <<if hasVisited("9.02Trarkran")>>And that you have … had five other siblings.<<else>>Anything else has to do with personality or choices you made because I was there.<</if>> You know so much about me." "You can't fault me for not being as open as you, Checl." "No, I can't. But I've never met someone so closed off. I don't know what you're scared of, but I wish you'd at least trust me." She shakes her head. <<include "9.12CheclFriend">>
"It's none of your business, that's why." "Is it because you don't trust me?" "It has nothing to do with trust, though you already know the answer to that one as well. What happened before you knew me has nothing to do with you. Tell me, Checl, what changes if I tell you?" "Why does something have to change? Why does telling me anything have to mean anything more than just me knowing more about you and understanding why you may act the way you do? As far as I know, you're just a selfish, cold-hearted terran mad at the galaxy. Are you fine with that?" You shrug. "Fine. If you are, then I guess there's no point. And I won't say something like 'this is a two-way road' or 'if you don't trust me, I won't trust you' because I'm fine with talking about myself. I want you and everyone I care to know me. I can only ask, I can't force you." She lets out a long sigh before grabbing onto the blanket. <<include "9.12CheclFriend">>
There's an answer, but you're not exactly sure what it is yourself. Maybe it was because you didn't feel like making up a hundred different lies or trying to figure out what to tell versus what not to. Or maybe it was because you didn't feel like dredging up the numerous things you've lived through and seen. Either way, tonight wasn't going to be the night you suddenly changed your mind and told the story. So, you simply shrug, giving Checl a weak smirk when she visibly huffs. <<include "9.12CheclFriend">>
"Well, with that," she yawns, "I'm going to go back to sleep. Goodnight, $name." You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, wondering if sleep will visit you. "$name?" You hum a reply. "Do you think the Outlands changed you a lot?" "No." There is no doubt in your answer, not even a moment to think it over. You are the same exact person who fell from the sky that day, landing in a crumpled mess and rising full of rage from betrayal … Or, at least you believe as much. "How? You were there longer than me." "It was practically a vacation in comparison to what I'm normally getting into. None of the lessons the Outlands could teach me was anything new. At best, it taught me how to best avoid getting sand and dirt out of unmentionable spots." <a data-passage="9.12CheclFriend2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
She's quiet for a while before finally saying, "Sometimes I feel like I have. Like, if I did go back to my ark, then no one would recognize me." "You were stolen, Checl. Sometimes I'm surprised you're as optimistic as you are." "Nothing happened to me, not yet. After they stole us, we went from one transport to the next until we ended up here. Sometimes we'd stop, and they would take some of the others. I just ended up being the group who made it to the Outlands, though I don't think it was on purpose. When we got there, the seller seemed pissed off." "None of that makes it any less scary or foreboding." "No, I know. <<if $checl >=50>>I just wonder what has changed. I wake up sometimes from nightmares about it, reliving all of it.<<else>>Sometimes, I think about what I would do if I were put in that position now. I'd like to think that I would fight. At the very least, I wouldn't go passively.<</if>>" "<<if $checl >=50>>Yea, I can relate to that. It … gets better." You're not sure you believe that, but you want to.<<else>>That's my girl," you snort, closing your eyes.<</if>> You keep an ear out for Checl, but as time ticks on, you hear nothing, and sleep overtakes you. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You did." "That doesn't make sense, $name. I've been here the entire time." "Yes, and the thing keeping me from ever giving you a straight-forward answer was never you. It was always circumstance or a fear." "And I convinced you that they don't matter?" "No, not that neither of those things don't matter. Not even the fact that they won't come up again and throw another wrench into all this." You ignore the look she gives you upon saying wrench, continuing. "But you deserve an answer and the truth. And I'd like to give you both, so here I am." "The truth?" "Later. If … if it happens." She seems to accept that. "I need to think about it, give me some time." "Least I can do with all the time you've given me." She nods, getting ready for bed and ignoring your existence as you gaze around, spotting a sofa that will serve you well enough. At least she didn't kick you out. You head over to it and lie down, staring up at the uniform, metallic ceiling as her words echo through your mind. You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, wondering if sleep will visit you. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's idiotic to judge our relationship off of what may happen in the future and not right now. I'm not sure what where I'm going or when, it could be a year before I find a way to take care of my business. Or, maybe a month. But that question is why it doesn't make sense to punish //us//. I have … other reasons but they don't matter. Not now." "I think I understand." "And?" "And you can't expect me to be able to give you an answer right now. I need to think about it." She gets ready for bed, ignoring your existence as you gaze around, spotting a sofa that will serve you well enough. At least she didn't kick you out. You head over to it and lie down, staring up at the uniform, metallic ceiling as her words echo through your mind. You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, wondering if sleep will visit you. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't know." "I don't know won't work here, $name. You're the one giving me weird signals. One minute saying that you want me, but then the next saying that you don't. My feelings aren't a child's toy for you to play with at your leisure." "I know that, Checl. I-" "So, then why do you keep treating them as such?" "It's not my intention." She snorts. "You have intention?" "It's your choice," you sigh. "I'm sorry for the confusion, I am. But just like you can't help your feelings, I can't help mine." "I don't think this has anything to do with how you feel about me, $name. You've made it clear multiple times that you like me, you just can't be with me. And unless you've done something to change why that is, I don't see this working." "So, no." "Not no. But I have to think." She gets ready for bed, ignoring your existence as you gaze around, spotting a sofa that will serve you well enough. At least she didn't kick you out. You head over to it and lie down, staring up at the uniform, metallic ceiling as her words echo through your mind. You yawn as you begin shifting, getting comfortable yourself. You peer at her windows and then at the door, where $hound still rests in front of. There's no way someone is making it past him at the very least. Taking a deep breath in, you close your eyes, wondering if sleep will visit you. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Summoning $hound to your side with a few clicks, you get up and leave your room behind, marching down the hall to where its room resides. It only occurs to you halfway there that you probably should've called first to see if it's even in and up to you visiting. But then, where else would Ne0 be? "Ne0?" you ask, pressing the intercom button to let it know you're outside. The halls are quiet, with nothing but the motion-detecting overhead halogen lights that are currently casting a cool blue stream of light down upon you. Thankfully, the doors sliding open allow you to shift your attention from the atmosphere of the halls and onto Ne0, who is now standing before you with its head cocked to the side as if already broaching the question. "Hey, I was wondering if you'd mind me staying the night in here. I have … issues with my room right now." <<if hasVisited("8.12Dinner3")>>\ "Acceptable." It turns, allowing you entry. Simple, to the point, no need to figure out if you were going to lie or not. Why couldn't all people be like this? Nothing has changed since you last saw its room, but now that you're here again, you notice that there's a sanitized, stringent feel to it all. The type of order that can only persist under the gaze of someone who has practically memorized the location of each and every object and placed them with an obscene amount of prudence. <<else>>\ "Acceptable." It turns, allowing you entry. Simple, to the point, no need to figure out if you were going to lie or not. Why couldn't all people be like this? Its room is incredibly unique. Maybe it's because you don't know much about Ne0 and its tastes, or maybe it's because you didn't expect to see this. The room itself is still reminiscent of the one you are all assigned to, but the amount of creativity Ne0 has poured into it has turned it into something entirely eclectic. The room is filled with clutter, but it all has a proper place, looking more like keepsakes than what some might consider collected junk. Various posters, flags, and paintings ranging from landscapes to buildings and businesses to animals, and a few that portray people and scenes. <</if>>\ It takes a moment for you to realize that you've just been standing there, staring at everything, while Ne0 sits in front of a painting resting on an easel. The painting itself is abstract: a bunch of colors, alongside something best described as scribbles and blobs. <a data-passage="9.12Ne01"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"New project?" "Negative." "Then what are you doing?" "Reflection." Ne0 seems to pause, blinking a few times before gazing over at you. "Advised by <<if $cp>>Checl.<<else>>Zihr.<</if>>" "What? Is <<if $cp>>she<<else>>he<</if>> hoping you'll come across some profound knowledge?" "Unknown." "Alright. Better question. What are //you// hoping to learn from this?" It blinks again, and though you have heard Ne0 say the line many times, you have never heard it say it so dejectedly. "Unknown." Regardless of whether Ne0 is trying to become more emotional, you can see it shedding some of the mechanical facets it had when you first introduced yourself. "So," you start, hoping to shift the conversation to something less philosophical and life-altering. "Where should I sleep?" "Bed vacant." "You don't sleep in it? Do you even sleep?" "Organic comprehension, no. Hibernation mode. Process power slows. Maintenance mode activated." That makes sense, at least. But then it only leads you to wonder if aberrant draqe's can dream. Do they do anything that an organic would find common, adapting both styles of life into a network of complete perplexity? <a data-passage="9.12Ne02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You sit on the bed, realizing that you had walked over here without any regard for what you were wearing. "Do you remember anything before you became an aberrant?" "Negatory. Lack of memories. Dissociation. Protocols invalidated. Only portions recalled." "Wait. So you do still remember some of it?" "Minuscule." "Well, what do you remember?" "Specific query?" <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q1")>>Already asked about the draqe government.<<else>>[[Draqe government.|9.12Ne0Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q2")>>Already asked about the draqe culture.<<else>>[[Draqe culture.|9.12Ne0Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q3")>>Already asked about the draqe speech.<<else>>[[Draqe speech.|9.12Ne0Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q4")>>Already asked about aberrant draqe.<<else>>[[Aberrant draqe.|9.12Ne0Q4]]<</if>>
"What do you remember about your government?" "Government not applicable. Referred to …" It pauses as if it's thinking … computing. "Rough translation. Framework." "Your government, or ruling body, is called the Framework?" "Correct." "Is it like a hive-mind? Are you guys all connected? Are there ranks?" "No. Partially. Yes." "So you all have individual minds?" "Negative. Warning. Insufficient personal knowledge for further inquiries." You shrug. <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q1")>>Already asked about the draqe government.<<else>>[[Draqe government.|9.12Ne0Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q2")>>Already asked about the draqe culture.<<else>>[[Draqe culture.|9.12Ne0Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q3")>>Already asked about the draqe speech.<<else>>[[Draqe speech.|9.12Ne0Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q4")>>Already asked about aberrant draqe.<<else>>[[Aberrant draqe.|9.12Ne0Q4]]<</if>> [[“Last question.”|9.12Ne03]]
"What do you remember about draqe culture?" "Little." "But there is a culture." "Sentient being. All possess culture." "Well, tell me the little you do remember. I've heard very little besides the fact that for droid-like beings, you guys are very in tune with the environment." "Correct. Connection strong with crystal-beings." "Crystal-beings?" "Nature is crystal. Speaks." "Your environment is mostly crystals, and it speaks to you?" "Yes." "Okay, not about to dig deeper into that one, at least not with you. Do you guys have relationships? Traditions?" "Further data unavailable." "Did someone make you?" "Cosmicium." "Wait. So, your entire race owes its sentience to cosmicium?" "Affirmative." That's even more interesting. So little is known about the draqe, at least from the sources that you have access to. Most think the draqe were made by the hands of an ancient race that is no longer around, some believing that they just faded out amidst the stars, while others think the draqe had a hand in it. Turns out, nothing of the sort transpired. Draqe were given life by cosmicium, the same element that allows Genisers to adapt to changing environments. The same thing that personified the trarkran fire and blood into what is known as moi̥. What is the extent of all that it can do? <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q1")>>Already asked about the draqe government.<<else>>[[Draqe government.|9.12Ne0Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q2")>>Already asked about the draqe culture.<<else>>[[Draqe culture.|9.12Ne0Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q3")>>Already asked about the draqe speech.<<else>>[[Draqe speech.|9.12Ne0Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q4")>>Already asked about aberrant draqe.<<else>>[[Aberrant draqe.|9.12Ne0Q4]]<</if>> [[“Last question.”|9.12Ne03]]
"Do all draqe speak like you?" "No. Draqe language, akin to music." "Really? As in you guys sing, or you use harmonies?" "Precisely. Matches harmony for communication." "So do you all sound the same, or could you identify an individual based on their … harmonics?" "Individual unimportant. Further data unknown." "So, being an aberrant version, would you even be able to match the harmonics?" "Unknown." <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q1")>>Already asked about the draqe government.<<else>>[[Draqe government.|9.12Ne0Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q2")>>Already asked about the draqe culture.<<else>>[[Draqe culture.|9.12Ne0Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q3")>>Already asked about the draqe speech.<<else>>[[Draqe speech.|9.12Ne0Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q4")>>Already asked about aberrant draqe.<<else>>[[Aberrant draqe.|9.12Ne0Q4]]<</if>> [[“Last question.”|9.12Ne03]]
"Do you know anything about other aberrant draqe's or, as far as your processing goes, are you the only one?" "Affirmative." "So, almost everything from your past life was just wiped out?" "Correct." "And you woke up … blank?" "Correct. Aberrant created by virus or error in processing. Measures unable to isolate. Hard reboot required. Failure. Disconnection. Aberrant created." You'll never be able to understand what that does, in a way, you doubt a draqe would either since they seem to wake up entirely different. But, you can imagine. And your imagination is probably worse than reality. <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q1")>>Already asked about the draqe government.<<else>>[[Draqe government.|9.12Ne0Q1]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q2")>>Already asked about the draqe culture.<<else>>[[Draqe culture.|9.12Ne0Q2]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q3")>>Already asked about the draqe speech.<<else>>[[Draqe speech.|9.12Ne0Q3]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.12Ne0Q4")>>Already asked about aberrant draqe.<<else>>[[Aberrant draqe.|9.12Ne0Q4]]<</if>> [[“Last question.”|9.12Ne03]]
You stare at Ne0 for a while before asking the question that has been on your mind since you started the interrogation. "Is it lonely?" "Yes." "Trying to figure out your place in this world now, the whole logical versus emotional part, is it hard?" "Emotional difficulty. Finding words. Feelings. Understanding. Connection. Strange but welcomed. But … scary." "If it makes you feel any better, it's about the same for us. One last question. If you could go back, would you?" <<if $ne0 >=50>>\ It remains quiet for some time, almost causing you to think that maybe Ne0 didn't hear you and has instead powered down or whatever it does to conserve energy. But finally, it seems to almost release a deep breath. "No. Content with friends. And life." <<else>>\ "Yes." <</if>>\ Bringing your list of questions to an end, you shift around until you find yourself lying comfortably in the bed. It's the same bed you have in your room, though you can tell that it has never been slept in, the mattress feels too new, uncomfortable in a way only a non-broken in mattress can me. Taking a deep breath in, you gaze up at polystyrene-tiled ceiling, attempting to close your eyes until it is less of an attempt and more of a success. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Summoning $hound to your side with a few clicks, you get up and leave your room behind, marching down the hall before slowing. In all your haste, you hadn't considered that you don't know where Sin's actual room is. For all you know, the Commanders don't even stay in the headquarters; they may have their own places out in the city. Sighing deeply, you pull up your terminal and call them, hoping they'll pick up. If they don't, you'll have to either suck it up and go back inside your room or seek out one of the others. You suppose you can always get a hotel room for the night, but then you would have to explain why you were out past curfew, and you didn't wish to give the Supreme Commander additional ammo at this time. Thankfully, your call is accepted, and the face of Sin appears. "Commander Sin," you greet with a subtle nod. "Dispense with the formalities, $name. It's far too late in the night for you to be acting as if this is a formal call. Why are you calling me?" "I have an odd request. I was hoping you'd allow me to sleep in your room tonight." A look of shock flashes onto Sin's face, causing you to think if you'd ever been able to shock the shaph before. They always seem so prepared, ready for almost anything you can present to them. "Why?" [[Lie.|9.12SLie][$ch9bedscene to "sin"]] [[Be honest.|9.12SHonest][$ch9bedscene to "sin"]] [[Tell a half truth.|9.12SHalfTruth][$ch9bedscene to "sin"]]
"$hound decided to … redecorate the place with his external waste," you tell him, glancing over at the $hound who's currently sniffing around the hall. You wonder if he can smell <<if $cp>>Checl, Zihr, or Neo<<else>>Zihr or Ne0<</if>>. "I think his last meal had some rancid meat." You're pretty sure his stomach acid could break down even rancid meat, but that didn't mean she needed to know that. "That's unfortunate. Should I send staff to clean it up?" "No," you sigh, "I already did all of that and gave him some medicine. Though I may ask that you send a bot to deep clean the floor, just in case." They hum as they type something into their terminal. "Noted. I'm sending you the location. My door will be unlocked, so just come in once you reach it." <<include "9.12Sin1">>
"The past few nights I've been feeling like I've had a visitor." "What do you mean, a visitor?" "I don't know, not really," you admit. "But it feels like someone is messing with me. The first night, there was tapping outside my window. And then the next night, I heard subtle shifts. One time, a door sounded like it was opening. And tonight, items were moved." Sin remains quiet for a moment, and you're unable to tell whether or not they're trying to figure out how to tell you you're crazy or how to rationalize everything you said. "I doubt you need me to break down how illogical it is for someone to be outside your window. As for someone getting into your room, it's virtually impossible without your permission. Would you like me to check the hall surveillance?" "Yes, actually." They hum. "Noted. I'm sending you the location. My door will be unlocked, so just come in once you reach it." <<include "9.12Sin1">>
"I've been feeling uncomfortable, have been for the past few nights." "Why?" You shrug; it's nearly impossible to explain to others what's going on when you're not even entirely sure what's happening yourself. For all you know, it's just your mind playing tricks on you. Placing things where they have always been, but you lack the memory of. Sin sighs. "Alright. I'm sending you the location. My door will be unlocked, so just come in once you reach it." <<include "9.12Sin1">>
"Thank you." Ending the call, you open your messages and head to the given location, realizing that the floor you're on has an entirely different hall you never noticed. This area probably houses all the handlers plus Commander Sin's room, a layout replicated on every floor. Sin's room is at the very end of the floor, resting directly in front of you instead of like the rooms on your floor and the ones you have walked past, which rest to your left. Approaching, the doors slide open, and you enter a botanical heaven. If you had believed that Sin's office was full of plants, then this one makes their office seem like some mild hobby in comparison. Plants and vines hang from the ceiling, stretch from the floors, travel up the walls, and wrap around pillars. There are a few tubes filled with a foggy, sage-like atmosphere where alien plants flourish. The colors are astounding, a reminder of why so many leave their homes behind to venture to planets that one's imagination can't come close to conjuring. The room itself is far larger than your own. While your room has the kitchen, living room, and bedroom all connected. Sin's is divided. The kitchen is full and off to the side with a dining and lounge area to the right. Further in, walls block off what you suppose is either the bathroom or bedroom, and to the left is another room currently closed off. "Welcome," Sin greets, coming out of the latter room. <<if hasVisited("9.12SHonest")>>"I checked surveillance. No one has entered your room all day, other than yourself." <<if hasVisited("9.12SHonest")>>\ "So, it's all in my mind?" "Perhaps." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.12Sin2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Would you like something to eat?" they ask as they enter the kitchen and open the refrigerator. "No, I'm good. Do you usually cook this late?" "I must admit that I look for any excuse to do so," Sin chuckles, dejectedly leaving the kitchen space behind. "For the food or just the act itself?" "The act itself. My planet had many ingredients to choose from; the universe has thousands more. It's a fun blend of science and creativity, and I have found that little else comes close to the satisfaction of seeing people enjoy one's food. You know," they continue, knocking a fist into the awaiting palm of another, "back home, I would volunteer at events to feed others. The more species there were, the better. I learned the different diets for so many species that way." "Including terran?" "Not at home, no. But I did learn what your species can eat later." "Then I'll hold you to making me dinner in the future." "I accept," Sin smiles. You take a seat on a lounger, watching as $hound moves about, his tongue flicking through the air in curiosity, approaching one plant after another. Your gaze shifts back to Sin, who is now tending to those very same plants, though you're not sure the act is needed; they all seem to be thriving. [[Ask about Sin's home.|9.12SinHome]] [[Ask about Sin's family.|9.12SinFamily]]
"If I remember correctly, you weren't born and raised on Stronoe." "No. I was raised on Lori'ae, a habitable moon that orbits Stronoe." Sin shrugs, yawning as they abandon their previous task and take the seat opposite you. "I visited the homeworld only once before coming out here." "Why did you?" "Come out here? Same reason most of us do, the wish to see more of the universe. I had every intention of returning. But the longer I was out here, the more I wanted to do more, to make a difference. That and I fell in love." [[“Oh, who was the lucky person?”|9.12LuckyPerson]] [[“Explains the law enforcement.”|9.12LawEnforcement]] [[“What is Lori'ae like?”|9.12Loriae]]
"Oh ho," you chuckle, "who was the lucky person?" They turn just enough for you to see the sad smile that now lines their lips. "A raza woman named Aira. I met her when we were both in Crion's boot camp. She balanced out my absurd optimism with grounded realism. And what's more, she shared in my dream … or at least I thought she did." "I'm guessing you found out that you didn't have that in common?" "Something like that," they chuckle before shaking their head. "I'd rather not talk about her, not tonight anyway." Their hand rests on your thigh, and though they don't say the words, you understand the intention. <<include "9.12SinHome1">>
"Explains why you went into law enforcement. Though I'm curious. How many shaphs usually go into the field?" "A lot more than you probably assume. There's a misconception about shaphs and our pacifistic behavior. It's a choice, first and foremost, something we are taught and is pressed upon us by the Grands. But still a choice, it's why shaphs involved in criminal activity isn't strange. But those raised on Stronoe lands, or nearby, have a greater propensity towards peace. A respect for the living, no matter how minuscule or large." "And you?" "I understand that violence is sometimes required. But I still respect life. <<if hasVisited("8.07StrengthsWeakness") and $smarts >=10>>As I said during your disciplinary meeting. I have never killed anyone, only immobilized them. I plan to continue that.<<else>>I've never killed anyone, and have no plans to change that.<</if>>" <<include "9.12SinHome1">>
"What is Lori'ae like? Is it extremely different from Stronoe?" "Not as much as some think. Probably similar to how different Genesis is from Prime. Smaller, no world trees. But the same kind of foliage. I've heard some scientists claim that the moons were once part of a super Stronoe, and when an asteroid hit, it caused the moons to form." "You believe that?" "Of course not. An asteroid large enough to knock off big enough pieces from a planet to be considered moons would have destroyed Stronoe. I believe the moons have always been there. A big asteroid may have come by and become one of the moons, but nothing more." <<include "9.12SinHome1">>
"But what about you in regards to your home. You're a Geniser, so I suspect you came straight from Terra Genesis." Your eyes narrow as you regard Sin. You suppose it's not odd for Sin to know the differences? They've probably been called to handle a few cases of Genisers and Primers clashing. But it's the idea that they don't know how Genisers get out here, to this side of space, that causes you to shift uncomfortably. There's an openness about them that reassures you that Sin is legitimately curious, and along with the circumstances of you being here, you would hope that there would be no deception. But that only makes you wonder more about public knowledge of the ties between Geniser and trarkran society. Zihr was raised on the Outlands, meaning he knew next to nothing about the outside world. Checl was isolated, kept to her ark and people until she was violently forced into the wider world. You never expected the two of them to know about the inner workings of species that have nothing to do with their own. But Sin, Sin had more knowledge about the world around them. If they didn't know, then what was the general consensus of the majority? [[Ask.|9.12SinAsk]] [[Keep it to yourself.|9.12SinKeepToSelf]]
"So, I'm guessing what the trarkrans did to my people isn't a known thing." Sin straightens, their eyes narrowing as they regard you with a cautious look. "I suppose whatever you're about to tell me is going to reveal why you dislike our Supreme Commander as much as you do." <<if $moran_xeno>>"Dislike is a kind word to use."<<else>>"I don't dislike her. But I also sometimes feel like she's out to get me. Call it instinctual distrust if you must."<</if>> "Trarkrans go to random towns, mostly smaller ones. The ones that you won't miss and probably wouldn't be found out until a few weeks after the act. But they kidnap and murder the population. As far as I know, no one on Genesis quite knows what's happening. I didn't know about it until it happened to us. The majority of Genisers you meet out here in the Illusio system are either slaves or managed to escape." Sin remains quiet as they lean back, their bottom arms crossed while the upper ones support their chin, still processing your words. <a data-passage="9.12SinAsk1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I've heard about trarkrans possessing terran slaves, but I always assumed that it wasn't a common occurrence. As common as it is anywhere else." "It shouldn't be common anywhere," you growl, and they raise their upper arms in surrender. "I agree fully. But the fact of the matter is that it is an occurrence. And not wholly an illegal one in some places. To know that it's sanctioned … Does the Genesis government know?" "I don't know. It would make sense, right? They get technology or some kind of reward for allowing the planet to be used as a hunting ground. I wouldn't put it past them if they believed it meant they could keep up with Primers." "To say that thought is disturbing is putting it mildly." "You know," you start, closing your eyes as you lean back into the seat, focusing for a moment on the plush feel of the lounger. "You're one of the only people I've ever told that to. Only one other actually knows." "I'm honored you hold me in some kind of regard." "I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Before you can react, Sin has reached across and brought you into their lap, refusing to loosen their grip on you. "Truly, I am honored, $name. You're a remarkable person. I do hope you believe me." <a data-passage="9.12Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I came for the same reason everyone else did," you start, swallowing all the questions. "Promise of adventure, new beginnings, a look at the grander world and all the species within." <<if $view >=50>>\ "A wondrous gift." "Indeed. Granted, I'm still trying to find what's out there. I don't think I figured it all out yet. A large part of me still wants … yearns too, but then there's a part of me that's terrified of seeing any more it has to offer." <<else>>\ "And yet, you seem so jaded." "I know it's not as long as others, but I've been out here for sixteen years and mostly seen the negatives of the universe. I've seen wonders all through blood-tinted glasses. It's hard to be or feel anything different." <</if>>\ Sin stares at you for a beat longer before saying, "What was your past job?" "Oh, you think I'm finally going to tell you?" you laugh, and they join in. "No, but I thought with how open you're being, I should try and ask again." You shrug, narrowing your gaze on a random speck of dust lying on the floor. "I'm trying something different. Seeing how I like it." "I'm enjoying it," Sin smiles. "Oh, I'm sure you are." Before you can react, Sin has reached across and brought you into their lap, refusing to loosen their grip on you. "Truly, I am honored, $name. You're a remarkable person. I do hope you believe me." <a data-passage="9.12Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Tell me something I know nothing about, Sin. Like, something about your family." "I will if you will." "You first." They nod. "Most still are on Lori'ae, but a few have done the same as I and left home to discover the world. To try to place where each and every sibling and cousin are would take the entire night, and I do think you should get some sleep." "How many siblings do you have? And cousins ... How large is your family?" "Shaphs have large families. Or at least those born and follow the traditional sense. Those born in other clusters, I know little about. Any born from the same Timptu Spangma will all be part of the same cluster, though if it is too large, it narrows down to the specific root bulb." You shake your head, motioning for them to stop as you release a soft chuckle. "Whoa, slow down. The same what?" "Ah," they laugh. "Timptu Spangma is a root belonging to one of the four Bhavnan Trees, or the world trees known to outsiders." "And the roots are so big they can have an entire family, or even sometimes need to be narrowed down?" "Yes. The roots are large enough on their own to host entire villages and towns, and each tree has at least ten roots. Further up the Bhavnan Tree is where cities rest." "It sounds amazing in a way that I can't picture. How much carbon dioxide does your planet have that a tree can be that big? Let alone four of them?" "A lot. Our bark behaves similarly to how you know trees and plants. It's why some shaphs, you'll find, have lighter or paler colored bark compared to others. On Stronoe and other planets, our tones are much more vibrant." "So, a large family, and all of you live together. Do you not move away once old enough?" "No. There are exceptions, like me, who choose to leave, but mostly you stay with your family." "And marriages?" "Usually, a conversation takes place about who will move where, and sometimes deals are struck so that neither family loses a member. Sometimes, both families join. If it is interspecies, you can guess that no conversation happens." They pause as they cock their head to the side. "Now you. I have heard our family culture is severely different from your own." [[“Very much so.”|9.12VeryMuchSo]] [[“Not really.”|9.12NotReally]] [[“For some.”|9.12ForSome]]
"Oh, very much. It's not that terrans don't take their family seriously, or at least Genisers, but it's all circumstantial. Some families are very close, but they're small. Some are large, but no one ever talks to each other." "It's odd to hear. To have something so large, and yet not be close with." "I guess. Whereas you guys continue building, not every family does that here. Some just move on, and they never come back." <<include "9.12SinFamily2">>
"Not really. Some families behave the same way as you described. You stay together, live in the same house, and only get bigger as people marry and bring in their own families. But at the same time, some people don't even have families. Moments where you can be the last surviving member or never speak to family, so you're alone." "That sounds incredibly sad." "You don't have that at all?" "Splitting up like that? No, not really. It's incredibly rare. I, myself, am close to all of my siblings and cousins. Of course, there are those I like more than others, but they are all valuable to me." <<include "9.12SinFamily2">>
"For some. There are some cultures back home where you stay close to your family, others where they expect you to leave at a certain time." "Expect you to leave at a certain time. What happens if you fail to meet that deadline?" You shrug. "Depends on the family. Some don't mind; they just adapt. Others are pretty strict; you're thrown out and forced to accept the new life, whether you're prepared or not." "I've heard that terrans are regarded as predators. I can see why now." You never thought about that aspect, and now that you have, you're curious how many 'prey' style species actually put family first. You know zeaches are about families in a similar way to shaphs, but then what about raza, vetix, or nurien. <<include "9.12SinFamily2">>
"And your own family?" Sin asks. You sigh. "An average-sized family, according to terran standards. I had two older brothers, one younger brother, and then two little sisters." "Am I wrong to have heard the word 'had'?" "No. They're all dead. I'm the only Moran you'll ever meet." "I'm sorry." "It happened a long time ago," you reassure. "I'm … over it." Sin looks like they're prepared to say more, but they don't. Instead, they reach across and bring you into their lap, refusing to loosen their grip on you. "You're a remarkable person, $name. I'm honored to know you." <a data-passage="9.12Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Despite the headache their actions give you, you stay in their arms. It's nice, even if you're not used to the feeling or the emotions behind it. When is the last time you even allowed someone else to hold you, let alone let yourself feel like it's safe enough to be held? There is still a part of you that feels like it's on alert. Waiting for even the slightest of shifts in Sin's demeanor, so that you can then jump away and grab a weapon. "$name," Sin whispers, pulling you out of your own thoughts, an action they may need to get accustomed to. "Come, we should put you to bed. You need your sleep." They shift, ready to carry you to the bed, but you move before they can stand, getting to your feet and placing space between the two of you. That's what you came here for … for sleep. You also came here knowing what it would signal to Sin, not to mention that you wanted to be with them. So, then why react so baffled? "If you are not sure," Sin starts, allowing the sentence to trail off, as their expression portrays their chagrin. "It's not that. I just have … other things on my mind." Straightening up, you narrow your eyes on the shaph. "You never told me what you're hoping to get out of this." They stand and begin to make their way to their bed. "I am meant to have an ulterior motive?" "Every relationship has one, even if it's as simple as two people enjoying the companionship of the other. You come off as someone who knows what they want, has their entire future mapped out to some extent, and I just don't see how I factor into those plans." "You're right to some extent, but I've abandoned trying to plot out potential romantic relationships before they even had a true chance to start." <a data-passage="9.12Sin4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And me being a terran doesn't bother you?" <<if $sinRo >=50>>"I'm not asking for us to raise a pod together, $name. Also, no. Shaphs hardly have any grievances with inter-species relations. I don't think I'd find myself wanting to crawl into the arms of a drivval, but you being a terran means nothing to me.<<else>>"I'm not asking for us to raise a pod together, $name, though that conversation may arise one day if we choose to stay in each other's company. So, no. Shaphs hardly have any grievances with inter-species relations.<</if>> Does my being a shaph bother you?" "No. Though I can't say my species is entirely like yours. I know we have quite a few organizations against any pairings done outside our own." "Genisers and Primers hate one another, and you're the same species. So, I'm not surprised." They sit on the edge of the bed, their head cocked to the side as they regard you with open and honest admiration. "But I wouldn't care if there were issues. You, $name, are what I'm focused on. Meeting you has been a gift in and of itself, and I don't want to squander it. If you allow it, we can see which way the branches sway and whether flowers blossom accordingly. Neither of us has to … in your terran language, put all our eggs in one basket." [[“You know I'm not intending to stay.”|9.12NotIntendingToStay]] [[“I don't understand.”|9.12IDUnderstand]] [[“And you're alright with that?”|9.12AlrightWithThat]]
"You know I have no intention of staying; that was something you guessed on your own, and you were correct. So, what then? You won't wait for me." "Why won't I?" A series of emotions appears on your face. You can feel your face shift from befuddlement to distrust to hope, then … something you're not sure of. Disbelief maybe. Or it could be shame at trying to guess what Sin will feel. "If we find ourselves wishing to make this work, then I have no problem with waiting for you to return, $name. Only if you promise me at that time to return." You don't answer, not knowing yourself. Not knowing if, after all that you do, you'll even be alive to do so. <<include "9.12Sin5">>
"I don't understand," you admit, saying it so low that you're surprised Sin actually heard you. "I don't understand why you would ever want someone like me. What can I do for you?" "I told you once. Lucky for you, I don't mind repeating myself. I want to discover more." "You could find someone so much better," you mumble, and they chuckle, harshly enough to make you immediately consider yourself wrong. "I doubt there is anyone on this whole planet, let alone in this single building, who is as interesting as you. And if they are, I think I'll leave them for another shaph. I'm happy with the terran who has gained my eye." <<include "9.12Sin5">>
"And you're alright with that? Not putting all our eggs in one basket and taking this at my pace?" "Yes, mostly because I know how fast I can be." They chuckle embarrassingly, once again performing the odd gesture of knocking their knuckles against their open palm. "I have been known to move fast. To let my excitement get the better of me." <<include "9.12Sin5">>
"For now," they start, extending one of their lower hands for you to take. "Will you lie here with me?" You stare from it to their soft, well-nigh pleading eyes, and you take a plunge that may just count as one of the most idiotic ones you have ever taken. Their hand encompasses yours as they softly guide you to their bed and from there, into their awaiting arms. Their arms snake around you, pulling you flushed against Sin's hardened chest while their fingers daintily skate across your skin. You can already feel sleep tugging at your eyelids. Their presence lulls you to sleep, whether your body agrees or not. "You can leave at any time," they whisper, and you force yourself to relax, the strain in your muscles disappearing as you put up mental blockers to keep everything else away but this moment. It doesn't matter how stupid you're being; you'll have that conversation another day. Tonight, you just want to exist, something you have very rarely ever given yourself permission to do. You can feel Sin's gentle lips pressing against the nape of your neck, leaving light promises of a world that isn't yours, but you find yourself desperately yearning for. "But?" you hum, feeling your consciousness slipping. "But what?" "Sounded … sounded like you were gonna add a but." You're not entirely sure if Sin answers or if it's just your dreams providing you with one. But you believe you hear them say, 'But I would rather you stay with me.' <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Summoning $hound to your side with a few clicks, you get up and leave your room behind, marching down the hall to where Zihr's room resides. It only occurs to you halfway through the trip that you probably should've called him first to see if he's even in and up to you visiting. Then there's the fact that you'll have to tell him what happened, as there is no way he'll just let you in because you asked nicely. That thought causes you to slow down and rethink the sanity of your actions, as well as why Zihr happened to be your first choice. Without a moment of doubt, you thought about him. Safety? Comfort? A mix of both? Neither? "$name?" Zihr questions, your eyes widening as you jump from the surprise. $hound lets out a low rumble, but nothing more. You glance over to see Zihr approaching with a towel draped across his shoulders. He's shirtless at the moment, wearing only plain black athletic pants. A bit more focus and you can see the sweat beads that have yet to disperse and the labored breaths he takes. <<if $zihrRo >=3>>You force yourself to pull your gaze from his stomach, and to instead, focus on his face.<</if>> "Coming back from some training?" you question. "Yea." "At this time?" He shrugs, moving to the front of his door to register his presence. The doors glide open with its usual low hum, but it feels like it's the loudest thing in the entire building. "I didn't even think the facilities were still open. Why are you training in the middle of the night?" "I can ask why you're standing in front of my door, wearing //that//, in the middle of the night." Pausing, you glance down, realizing that you had left your room with your pajamas on, meaning … [[… you were in your actual pajamas.|9.12ActualPajamas]] [[… you came in nothing but shorts and shirt.|9.12ShortShirt]] [[... you showed up in the bare minimum.|9.12BareMinimum]]
"What do you mean //that//?" You were in standard pajamas. Or at least standard in terms of what Genisers would wear to sleep. When you were small, you actually had quite a few different sets. You remember the one time where Rayna brought all the siblings the same pajamas, but you can't remember if you wore them any other night but that one. "I don't think I ever seen you wear something like that," he points out. "Can't say the same, would it kill you to walk around with a shirt?" He scoffs, turning to walk to his door. "My bad, Checl." <<include "9.12ZihrR2">>
"What do you mean //that//?" They aren't standard pajamas but it's not like you'd get looks from any other terran for wearing this. Maybe it was because you were in shorts. In the Dreads, you had maybe four or five pieces of clothes, and they were all practically the same. "I don't think I ever seen you wear something like that," he points out while approaching his door. "Have I ever seen your legs before?" "Does it matter?" "No, but you have to admit it's weird. Knowing someone for as long as we've known each other and I've never seen your legs." "Let's move on." <<include "9.12ZihrR2">>
You suppose the reaction is understandable, you're wearing less than Zihr right now It hadn't occurred to you that you had walked down the hallway and to his room in nothing but underwear<<if $chest>>and a loose tank top<</if>>. "Ignore what I'm wearing," you mumble. He shrugs, making his way towards the door but you can see him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Zihr." "You have to admit, it's hard to focus when you're practically naked in front of my door." "Try." <<include "9.12ZihrR2">>
Following him inside, he throws the towel to the side before grabbing a drink from his refrigerator. His gaze narrows on you, taking you in silently before finally sighing. "So, are you going to tell me why you chose to work out in the middle of the night?" "Are you going to tell me why you're here?" "You first." "Working out at night lets me focus. Fewer people." He picks at something lying on his pants, an irritated glance on his face. "Less judgment." "Less judgment?" He shifts so that he's now sitting on the counter, loosely holding onto the drink he's still nursing. "Did you know that the caste-less technically do have a caste? They're assigned to a caste called mẽw, which is the same caste criminals are assigned. But mark-less raza are still seen as beneath them." He clenches his jaw as his hands tighten around the cup. Upon realizing what he's doing, he carefully places it down. "I'm beneath and seen as lesser than someone who could have murdered a dozen people." It takes you a moment to understand the correlation between his training and this news concerning caste-less, but once you do, you click your tongue in understanding. [[“I didn't know.”|9.12IDidntKnow]] [[“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”|9.12ThingsChangeStayTheSame]] [[“I'm surprised you care.”|9.12SurprisedYouCare]] [[“Why didn't you get gang markings?”|9.12GangMarkings]]
"I didn't know you were having issues." "I do, and I don't," he shrugs, sitting on the counter. "I'm usually only with you <<if $cp>>three<<else>>two<</if>> and you guys don't treat me any different. But if I'm alone, then I'm open game." He shakes his head, grumbling lowly. "It's stupid that some paint on my face could completely change how much respect I get. What's the point of finding my family when there's a chance that they could treat me the same?" He waves the words away before you can get out a comment, an irritated and defeated look crossing his face. <<include "9.12ZihrR3">>
You hum, unsurprised as you shrug your shoulders lazily, leaning against the table. "The more things change, the more they stay the same." "Huh? What do you mean?" "The Outlands weren't that different. Dreads thought themselves better than the other two because it's the closest to the wall. While Withered thought the same because it was the largest and had a pond to sustain itself. Gangs always think others are beneath them, and there were probably even citizens who looked down on each other. None of that changes, it's not even presented differently. Just what they hate you for shifts." "Is it sad that I agree?" he asks, sighing heavily. "You make it sound like it is," you laugh, and he manages to smile as well. <<include "9.12ZihrR3">>
"Gotta be honest here, Zihr. I didn't think you would care about the thoughts of strangers." "Neither did I," he grumbles as he leans back, resting his head against the cabinet above him, and closes his eyes. "There're a lot of things shocking me nowadays.<<if $zihrRoPo >=3>>" He might've been trying to do it slyly, but you see how he glances at you before glancing away just a bit too quickly. You shift. "I wasn't expecting to leave the Outlands and feel this stupid.<<else>> I wasn't expecting to leave the Outlands and feel this stupid.<</if>> I'm raza because I look like them, and that's where the similarities end. The few caste-less raza I have met even look down at me because I was raised in the Outlands. I just don't see the point of any of this." He waves the words away before you can get out a comment, an irritated and defeated look crossing his face. <<include "9.12ZihrR3">>
"You were raised with a gang. From what I saw in the Dreads, they all had markings for their respective groups. Why didn't you get any?" He rolls his eyes. "My mentor never let me. On the day all the other kids were getting theirs, I couldn't even attend the celebration because he was so against it. By the time I was old enough to make the decision myself, I wanted to see them pay for their crimes more than join in." He waves the words away before you can get out a comment, an irritated and defeated look crossing his face. <<include "9.12ZihrR3">>
"It's just … I'm putting in all this work to find my family, figure out where I came from, when this may be the exact kind of treatment I get. How am I supposed to respond if my mother or father shuns me because I didn't dash some paint on my face? I find out I have siblings, but they want nothing to do with me because I came from some sand-and-dirt-infested area like the Outlands? Or, this one. My family wants me; they want to reconnect, but society frowns down upon that, and so it doesn't matter. They have to choose between me, their long-lost son, or their life." "And if that does happen?" <<if $zihr >=50>>"I don't know. I think I want them and the idea of it all more than anything. I want to say I'd put myself first, but sometimes I'm not so sure.<<else>>"Then fuck it," he grumbles, his rage just barely hidden amidst the regret. "I've lived this long without them. What's a handful more orbits?"<</if>> Clearing his throat, he gestures to you. "But why are you here?" <a data-passage="9.12ZihrR4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I have a … request," you start, trying to find the right words. <<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>It's almost like you never kissed the guy standing in front of you, as if you didn't break the ice a few days ago. Though with how the two of you have been actively avoiding one another, it would seem that you both fail to find the correct words.<</if>> "Can I spend the night here?" His face shifts into surprise, his gaze flickering across his room before settling back onto you. <<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>\ "We kiss one time and skip straight to spending the night with each other?" he chuckles, a shy hint to the sound. That, combined with the fact that the tips of his ears are turning redder with every passing second, tells you all you need to know. <<else>>\ "Why?" he draws out. <</if>>\ [[Lie.|9.12ZLie]] [[Be honest.|9.12ZHonest]] [[Tell a half truth.|9.12ZHalfTruth]]
"$hound decided to … redecorate the place with his external waste," you tell him, jabbing your thumb towards $hound, who is sitting on the floor, bored. "What's wrong with him?" "Bad meat," you answer, glancing over at him, wondering if it's even possible. You're pretty sure $hound's stomach acid could break down even rancid meat, but that didn't mean Zihr needed to know that. "And you think I want that happening to my room?" "He's done. I already took him outside and gave him some medicine. My room just needs to air out, and there's no way I can go to sleep with that smell just lingering in there." He stares at you for a while longer before shaking his head and shrugging. "Fine, the sofa is free." <a data-passage="9.12ZihrR5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I feel like there's been a visitor in my room for the past few nights." "What?" "I don't know, not really," you admit. "But it feels like someone is messing with me. The first night, there was tapping outside my window. And then the next night, I heard subtle shifts, like someone trying to move silently around the room. One time, a door sounded like it was opening. And tonight, items were moved." "$name, this sounds serious. We should tell Commander Sin." "For what? I have no proof. As far as I know, I'm just being paranoid." "But when have you ever been paranoid? We've been here for a while, wouldn't you have felt this way in the beginning?" "You're asking questions I don't have answers to, Zihr." He hums, his frown never moving as he nods towards the sofa. "Fine, the sofa is free." <a data-passage="9.12ZihrR5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"The past few nights I've been feeling uncomfortable in my room. I don't know why. I'm hoping this may help me figure it out." "And you thought coming here would help you." "Look, if you have a problem with it, then just tell me to go." He stares at you for a while longer before shaking his head and shrugging. "Fine, the sofa is free." <a data-passage="9.12ZihrR5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He leaves the counter, walking into his bathroom as you make your way towards the sofa, taking the chance to look around. His room is only slightly more personable than your own. Clothes are thrown around, the result of laziness and a mental note to 'get to it later.' On the dining table is a tablet portraying the Nightwalker's Handbook. Knowing Zihr, he's reading the entire thing, while you didn't even know they had a readily available handbook. There's a potted crystal sitting on an end table, emitting a dim, warm light. And resting right beside it, Zihr's bandana. You find yourself picking it up, flipping it over to confirm your thoughts. "Can I help you?" he asks, joining you in the room, this time with a shirt on and a blanket now resting in his hands. "Where did you get this?" Placing the blanket on the sofa, he answers, "I bought it from a terran in the Outlands." "Because it looked nice or for a specific reason?" He shields his face from view. "One of the first movies I ever saw was one of your western movies. It stuck with me. A lot. And they were all wearing them." [[“That's adorable.”|9.12Adorable]] [[“You're a cowboy fan!”|9.12CowboyFan]] [[“This actually explains a lot.”|9.12ExplainsALot]]
"That's adorable," you coo, poking Zihr playfully as he swats you away with a scowl. "Shut up, and give it back." He snatches the bandana from your hands and ties it back around his neck. <<include "9.12ZihrR6">>
"Wow, so you're a cowboy fan. What was it that got your attention?" Despite trying to seem calm and collected, Zihr actually looks like he can't contain himself. Excitement makes his eyes glimmer, and you can see him straighten up, ready to delve into the topic. "Everything. The freedom, the mood, the lone man still facing off against the villain, even though everyone has turned their back on him. I think it was one of the things that made me hate the gang. And the thing the movies call a horse, it's an odd-looking animal, but majestic at the same time. I hope to one day see one." "Do you remember the movie name?" "The first one I watched? High Noon." "Oh, you were watching //old// western movies. That one is before even my mother's time. Maybe even her mother." "It was one of the only ones the gang had. I've watched it so many times, I think I can quote the entire thing. That actor, John Wayne, he's one of my favorites." He plucks the bandana out of your hands, rubbing his thumb against the material before securing it back around his neck. <<include "9.12ZihrR6">>
"That actually makes a lot of sense." "About what?" "Your whole moral compass part. You've always seemed like the type of guy who could sway between law-abiding officer or the hard-headed vigilante. Makes sense now why that is." "I don't understand." "Cowboys sometimes have their own sense of justice." "That didn't make me understand any more than before," he grumbles, plucking the bandana out of your hands. You watch as he considers it for a moment before tying it around his neck. <<include "9.12ZihrR6">>
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you without it." "I once left it on my pillow, and another kid in the gang took it, started wearing it. When I asked him to give it back, he refused." "Did you beat him?" "Yes. I lost the fight, but I managed to get my bandana back, and that's all that mattered. Since then, I haven't really liked leaving it just lying around. I know no one is going to come in and take it, but …" He shrugs. "I feel naked when it's not around my neck." Heading over to the sofa, you plop down and shift, thankful upon finding that it's not as uncomfortable as it looks. It's not your bed, but it'll do. <a data-passage="9.12ZihrR7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $zihrRoPo >=3 and $zihrRo >=50 and $prebreakup_zihr is not 1>>\ "Look." Your gaze rises to meet Zihr, who is still standing next to his end table, his eyes on the crystal instead of you. "I don't mind if you spend the night here-" "But?" <<if hasVisited("8.22KissHim")>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $ch9bedscene to "zihr">> <</nobr>>\ "But I think we need to talk. About … about what happened in the med-bay." "The kiss." He blushes. "The kiss." "Do you regret it happening?" you ask, forcing a mind that wishes to wander to focus. You don't wish to give any indication that this conversation has put you not only on the defensive, but in a discomfiting place. It's odd to consider that you've never really done this, never had to discuss feelings because they never mattered. <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>The last person you genuinely flirted with was Tsering, and upon further inspection, you never sat and discussed your feelings. He would flirt, you would flirt back, until it was the norm, and there was an establishment that the two of you enjoyed the act.<<else>>You can't even remember the last person you genuinely liked … you don't think there ever was one. You flirted and teased a considerable amount of people, but it was always to get something. To stab them in the back later or to simply unwind and please a carnal desire. Emotions were never part of the equation.<</if>> "Not at all," he chuckles lightly, running his hands through his hair as he takes a moment to think about his next few words. "I don't. But I also don't know what it means. Especially because it's you, no offense." You shrug. "I don't know. I have no idea where this will go or how, but I just know that I want it, and right now I'm trying to believe that's enough. Otherwise …" You fail to complete the sentence, though it keeps going in your mind. //Otherwise, you'll run from this, and you'll keep running.// <a data-passage="9.12ZihrKiss1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $prebreakup_zihr is 2>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $ch9bedscene to "zihr">> <</nobr>>\ "Not a but, more like I just want to say that … I mean, about what we talked about in the med-bay. I just-" "I should probably go first then," you interrupt, ignoring the befuddled look he passes you. "I told you no, at first. After thinking about it more, I don't think it's still a no." Zihr hums. "I did kind of break that information to you out of nowhere, and at a bad time." "You kind of did," you chuckle, but the sound falters as you find yourself once again attempting to find the mutual ground between feelings and fear. "But … and don't take me telling you this as some definite yes. It's not a no, I know that I do like you. But I'm also not sure how this will go and if it's even wise to start down the path." Zihr rubs his … antennae … Now that you think about it, you're not exactly sure if there's a specific term for them. "If you're looking for me to have some smooth rebuttal, it won't happen. I'm probably worse at this than you are. I've never felt like this about anyone. I never let myself like someone like this. In the Outlands, everyone is either trying to put a dagger in your back or they're so temporary that any time in their presence is forgettable. So I never cared much for relationships. I didn't want to forge them, let alone nurture them. Besides my mentor, you and Checl are the longest relationships I've had. And I don't know how I got here. I'm still trying to figure it all out. So, if you are, too, then that's fine. It won't hurt my feelings." <a data-passage="9.12ZihrStillGood1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "But I think we need to talk. About … about what happened in the med-bay." "I should probably go first then," you interrupt, ignoring the befuddled look he passes you. "I get it, we kissed. We shouldn't have." "We … shouldn't have?" This is exactly why you stay away from situations like this: breaking down feelings, emotions, and thought processes was a waste of time. It was something you were never really good at. "No, we shouldn't." "So, why did you kiss me?" "It's not that I don't find you attractive. I just don't think it'll work out, and it feels stupid for either of us to go down this path. Especially at this time." "Okay." "Okay?" "Okay. I mean, I'm not particularly celebrating. I like you, genuinely. But even I had to stop numerous times and consider how much sense all this made. I'm kind of clueless when it comes to emotions and feelings like this. I know what I feel, but that doesn't mean that's how it works. I don't mind taking time to figure it out myself." You nod slowly. "Okay." Zihr finally shifts, climbing into his bed as you get as comfortable as you can on the sofa. You wait to see if he'll have anything more to say, but after a few minutes, you hear nothing, and you force yourself to sleep. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <<elseif $zihrRo <50 and $flirt_zihr>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $ch9bedscene to "zihr">> <</nobr>>\ "Look." Your gaze rises to meet Zihr, who is still standing next to his end table, his eyes on the crystal instead of you. "I don't mind if you spend the night here-" "But?" "But I'd rather just … not fight. I don't have the energy." You open your mouth to utter a smart-ass comment, only to realize what you're about to do. A low chuckle escapes, causing Zihr to raise a brow. "So we should head straight to sleep then. Seeing that us fighting is inevitable." "And you never wonder why that is?" You shrug. "Why should I? I know why. Your moral compass is a mess, and mine isn't." You raise your hand as if to say stop. "See, you were going to find that offensive and fire back with some line about how I don't have a moral compass whatsoever. We'll go back and forth, and it'll go just like how it did in the med-bay." "The med-bay was on you," he hisses, taking an unconscious step forward as he points at you accusingly. "I just wanted you to give a shit about your life, and you made it out like I was the bad guy." You lean back on the sofa, part of your mind reversing the conversation to figure out how you went from 'let's not have an argument' to being in the middle of one. The other stays trained on Zihr. His entire demeanor reminds you of that day in the med-bay, the helplessness that rested in his gaze, as well as how he seems to choke out the words, as if something is lying underneath the surface. <a data-passage="9.12ZihrDirect"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "You know," Zihr starts as he gets into bed, "I never apologized for what happened on the bounty with the shaph." "Save it." "I'd rather not. I'd rather at least apologize." "Did you mean what you said?" His eyes narrow as he shrugs his shoulders. "Yea, I did." "Then why apologize?" "Because it wasn't the time or place. And, I didn't mean //all// of it. I am tired of you not being a team player and listening. But it was also wrong of me to make it seem I know everything about you, and some of what I said was presumptuous." [[“Eh, not really.|9.12EhNotReally]] [[“Apology accepted.”|9.12ApologyAccepted]] [[“Let's just go to sleep.”|9.12GoToSleep]] [[“I wasn't trained to be a team player.”|9.12NotTrained4TeamPlayer]] <</if>>\
"Alright. Then we take this one day at a time. We don't put any labels on this, not yet. We just see where and how it goes. <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>It'll give you time to figure out how you feel about Checl as well." You do an excellent job of hiding the embarrassment that wishes to spread across your face. You never sought to be careful about your flirting, but it wasn't something you planned to have thrown back in your face.<<else>>I think that's the smartest plan for both of us." Sounds like a good idea to you? At least the no-labels part can help suspend any horrific doubts that threaten to blossom.<</if>> A silence begins to descend, a clear indicator that both of you are already stuck in your own heads. Seeking to dispel it, you pat the sofa, capturing Zihr's attention. "You know, our second kiss could be on your sofa." He laughs. "A nice step up from a medical bed." He approaches and awkwardly tries to figure out where he should stand before deciding to sit, until he causes himself to blush, probably overthinking his actions. He leans in, a bit too fast, and so you pull away to avoid his head bumping into yours. Once he slows, you move in. "I don't know how to do this," he whispers against your lips, his body trembling, and soon after, he pulls back, a moment of doubt appears on his face. [[“Wait … period?”|9.12Period]] [[“Just follow my lead.”|9.12MyLead]] [[“We'll figure it out as we go.”|9.12FigureItOut]] [[Kiss him.|9.12KissyKissy]]
You pause, his words echoing throughout your head a couple of times before you finally piece them together. "Wait … you mean you don't know how to do this, period?" "Yea," Zihr answers, a lack of shame in his voice but loud in his demeanor. "In the Outlands, everyone is either trying to put a dagger in your back or they're so temporary that any time in their presence is forgettable. So I never cared much for relationships. I didn't want to forge them, let alone nurture them. Besides my mentor, you and Checl are the longest relationships I've had. And I don't know how I got here. I'm still trying to figure it all out. Ever since you kissed me, I've been trying to figure it all out." "And you still haven't quite done it yet?" "No. But like I said, I'm open to figuring it out." He snorts, shrugging his shoulders. "It can't be that hard, right?" "Wrong person to ask," you chuckle, your nose rubbing against his as your lips touch his cheek, then upper lip. He remains motionless, letting you lead as you finally trap his lips between your own, pulling him into a collected kiss. There is a part of you that wants to intensify it, to claim a pair of lips that you have been craving to taste for such a long time, but you contain yourself. Keeping the pace slow for Zihr's sake … and a bit of your own. Neither of you knows what you're getting into; it's best to keep it to a slower progression than a fast one. <a data-passage="9.12ZihrKiss2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well," you start, keeping him from pulling away by looping your arms around his neck. You tug him back to you, pressing your lips against his. For only a moment, do you pull back to say, "Just follow my lead." And that's what he does. He allows you to lead, his lips stumbling along to keep up with your pace and truly proving just how many partners he's had in the past. It's cute in a way. You would have suspected Zihr to have had a few trysts before this, not dozens, but at least one or two. To learn that he's probably never been kissed is a shocker. And for that, you keep the kiss simple. There is a part of you that wants to intensify it, to claim a pair of lips that you have been craving to taste for such a long time, but you contain yourself. Keeping the pace slow for Zihr's sake … and a bit of your own. Neither of you knows what you're getting into; it's best to keep it to a slower progression than a fast one. <<include "9.12ZihrKiss2">>
"Neither of us do," you admit. "But we'll figure it out as we go." "You sure you can stand going into something without a plan?" "Who says I don't have one?" He doesn't answer the question; instead, he guides your face the short distance to his. The kiss is not so different than the one you shared in the med-bay. Still just as soft and new, the type of kiss that causes you to want to freeze time and exist in a moment that allows you to repeat every part of it, burning it into your memory. There is a part of you that wants to intensify it, to claim a pair of lips that you have been craving to taste for such a long time, but you contain yourself. Keeping the pace slow for Zihr's sake … and a bit of your own. Neither of you knows what you're getting into; it's best to keep it to a slower progression than a fast one. <<include "9.12ZihrKiss2">>
You don't exactly answer him, not with words anyway. Instead, you pull him into you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, almost innocent kiss. He leans into it, deepening the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling yourself melting against him. You're not sure you could have ever guessed this turn of events, but you're happy to have had them happen. There is a part of you that wants to intensify it, to claim a pair of lips that you have been craving to taste for such a long time, but you contain yourself. Keeping the pace slow for Zihr's sake … and a bit of your own. Neither of you knows what you're getting into; it's best to keep it to a slower progression than a fast one. <<include "9.12ZihrKiss2">>
"You know," he says, pulling away just enough to actually speak. As his mouth moves, they still rub across your skin, causing you to want to pull him back down. "I don't mind if you sleep in my bed. If you want, I mean." "Zihr," you gasp, "I had no idea you moved so fast." He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he abandons your side, going to the bed, and you follow. Nothing will happen tonight; it was the best decision for both of you. But you're happy enough to sleep in a bed instead of a sofa. Lying down with Zihr, the two of you rest there awkwardly, neither of you knowing exactly what to do or which boundaries were imaginative versus reasonable. And neither of you ask. Instead, you turn your back to him and just try to sleep, feeling the familiar tug against your eyelids and giving yourself over to it. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I am," you admit. "But I do know that I do feel something for you. I don't think I'm confused about that part. Everything else, well …" There is still that voice, lurking in the shadows, prepared to remind you of the fatuity of your actions and thoughts. There are still doubts, and the understanding that your time here is limited. And yet, there is still the need and want, the pining and curiosity of what will happen … what //can// happen if you just loosen your grip on fate's neck. "Yea," he chuckles lightly, dropping down to one knee as he takes your hand in his. You let out a snort, your head tipping back as you can't help but laugh at what this all reminds you of. "What?" he questions, releasing your hand as if suddenly learning that you were contagious. [[Tell him.|9.12TellHim]] [[Keep it to yourself.|9.12KeepToSelf]]
"In terran culture, at least for Genisers, this is what you do when you're about to propose to someone." He practically flies backward, the tips of his ears heating as he glares to the side while you laugh. "You're messing with me." "No, I'm quite serious. The person proposing will drop down to their knee and present a ring." "Why a ring?" "It's a symbol of the relationship. I think." "So, only one person receives it? That feels kind of one-sided, right?" "Well, they get theirs at the actual wedding. Which … Hey, how about we talk about literally anything else." He chuckles, a saddened look entering his eye, but he gives no explanation for why it's there. <<include "9.12ZihrStillGood2">>
"Nothing, I was just reminded of something." "Something you won't tell me about?" "You know me so well." He shakes his head. "I just wanted to say that I understand and agree. We're both feeling the same, so we can go as slow as we need to. There's no rush, right?" "Right," you smile, wanting to bring him closer, but you keep your hands to yourself. <<include "9.12ZihrStillGood2">>
"You know," he says, moving to get to his feet. "I don't mind if you sleep in my bed. If you want, I mean." "Zihr," you gasp, "I had no idea you moved so fast." He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he abandons your side, going to the bed, and you follow. Nothing will happen tonight; it was the best decision for both of you. But you're happy enough to sleep in a bed instead of a sofa. Lying down with Zihr, the two of you rest there awkwardly, neither of you knowing exactly what to do or which boundaries were imaginative versus reasonable. And neither of you ask. Instead, you turn your back to him and just try to sleep, feeling the familiar tug against your eyelids and giving yourself over to it. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You hadn't come here with the intention of pissing him off. But then, why did you come in the first place? It was a running joke among those who knew you that the two of you couldn't have one conversation without it devolving into a deleterious back-and-forth, leaving no one satisfied and both of you feeling a unique brand of fatigue. "No, I just said something you didn't want to hear." "Fuck you, $name." [[“I am in your room.”|9.12InYourRoom]] [[“Why do you care?”|9.12Care]] [[“Promises. Promises.”|9.12Promises]]
"Well," you start, spreading your arms as you gesture to your surroundings, "I am in your room. You constantly say it, now you can actually do it." "I'm not drunk enough to even consider what that would look like," he scowls, waving your words away. "Oh, is that all It'll take. Wish I knew sooner." <<include "9.12ZihrDirect2">>
"Humor me, Zihr. Truthfully, why do you care?" "Humor me, $name. Why don't you?" "Maybe you should show me why I should care," you snort, fluttering your lashes parodically. "You'll find that certain actions actually have a far greater effect." <<include "9.12ZihrDirect2">>
"Promises. Promises, Zihr. You can't keep leading me on like this. One of these days, I may really take you up on the offer." <<include "9.12ZihrDirect2">>
"And then there's that," he snorts, his chin rising as if he had already made a point. "This teasing but apathetic behavior. I'm starting to think you're nothing but talk." You straighten up, narrowing your eyes. You've been called tons of things, most of them from the man in front of you. But that's a new one. "Come now, Zihr. Don't get yourself into a situation you can't get out of." He sneers and, in a mocking voice, says, <<if hasVisited("9.12Promises")>>"Promises. Promises.<<elseif hasVisited("9.12Care")>>Humor me.<<else>>You constantly say it, now you can actually do it.<</if>>" [[Do something about it.|9.12SomethingAboutIt]] [[Let it go.|9.12LetItGo]]
You spring up and stride to his side faster than you expect to, so much so that Zihr ends up stumbling backward, catching himself on his end table as you lord over him. "Careful, Zihr," you whisper, your face only inches away from his. You place two fingers against his chin, gently keeping him anchored, not that he has put up much of a fight. "I may get the wrong idea and think you actually want this." His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, his own lips parting as if he wants to say something, but only a shallow breath escapes. The two of you gravitate closer, your lips going from inches to centimeters apart. Your nose settles against his as a cursory moment passes between you. "Took you long enough," he murmurs just as your lips meet his. The kiss is far more gentle than the initial tension or yearning. Two lips exploring one another, attempting to understand the curves and dips of the other. You can't recall ever kissing someone and feeling their inexperience, but Zihr's shines through, refusing to be ignored. He doesn't know where to put his hands or how to react to your growing desire. His lips stumble more than dance against yours, relying on your own knowledge and experience to keep it up. Pushing yourself against him more, you have to fight the lecherous need that finds itself escalating. The heat growing in your core that ascends into a fuss of nerves. You have to tell your hands not to wander and to keep the kiss simple. Finally, you pull away, just enough that your lips still move against his as you speak. "Feels like you did that on purpose." "Did what?" he asks breathlessly, his lips still trying to reconnect with yours. You tease him by always adding just a hair's breadth of a gap, always making him have to chase what he wants until you finally give him what he seems to so desperately crave. Pecking his top lip, you allow him to lead this time as his hands settle on your waist, this kiss finding him far more confident than the last, but it also runs its course sooner. He gasps as he pulls away, his eyes narrowing on nothing. Slowly, he shifts to invite more space between you, and your mind short-circuits, attempting to find where you fucked up or where you read the signals wrong. <a data-passage="9.12ZihrDirect3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You remain sitting, fighting the urge that arises to get up and show him that you are more than just words. For so long, the two of you have engaged in this back and forth. Mostly, the blame rests on your shoulders, and you'll happily carry it. You've teased Zihr egregiously, to the point where if you hadn't already sat and thought about it, you would second-guess where the teasing stopped and the real emotions began. In truth, the two probably have bled together, no longer scissile. Every word, action, and look unable to be truly digested and explained without being accompanied by an undercurrent of 'what if.' "So, that's it?" Zihr asks, his demeanor shifting, and a flicker of doubt enters his gaze. "I'm not entirely sure whether you're just trying to see what I'd do or if you want me to do something specific." "I was trying to see if you were nothing but a tease or something more. I feel like I received my answer." "What did you expect me to do, Zihr? Get up and hope that you wanted me to kiss you as much as I wanted to do it?" You snort. "I wasn't about to risk getting hit on that kind of assumption." "You could have also asked." "Sounds like it's you who should've asked." He glares at you, throwing his hands up. "Kiss me." "I gotta be honest, Zihr," you snort as you cock your head to the side, "I don't really like the tone. And what you're asking of me is no simple matter." Producing an almost silent growl, he treks over to you, surprising you as he leans in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, allowing him to lead the kiss and finding out just how unskilled he is in such an endeavor. His lips stumble more than dance with yours, as if trying to replicate something that he saw but not knowing how to. "See, was that so hard?" you chuckle, pulling back just enough to ask the question. "For once?" he starts breathlessly, his lips still trying to reconnect with yours. "Shut up." You tease him by always adding just a hair's breadth of a gap, always making him have to chase what he wants until you finally give him what he seems to so desperately crave. Pecking his top lip, you allow him to lead this time as his hands settle on your waist, this kiss finding him far more confident than the last, but it also runs its course sooner. He gasps as he pulls away, his eyes narrowing on nothing. Slowly, he shifts to invite more space between you, and your mind short-circuits, attempting to find where you fucked up or where you read the signals wrong. <a data-passage="9.12ZihrDirect3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Zihr?" "I'm fine," he lies, "you just have a way of making my head hurt." "That's exactly what I want to hear after what we just did." He waves your words away with a light smile. "It's not … I just need to sleep. We both should." The hurt in his eyes is so evident, but you are clueless about its origins and how it has to do with you. Not more than five minutes ago, neither of you could keep your hands off the other, and now it feels like a chasm has opened between you. "Okay," you reply, clearing your throat as you turn and head to the sofa, fighting your own headache. The two of you both prepare, neither saying anything as the room descends into silence. You stare at the back of the sofa, glaring a hole into the leather upholstery until sleep drags your eyelids down. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Eh, I wouldn't call the stuff you said presumptuous." "What would you call it then?" "The truth mostly. You're right, I'm not a good team player. I don't listen well to orders; I'm used to working on my own. And I've manipulated most of the folks I know in some shape or form. The only thing I will ever disagree with is what you call luck. Luck carries this connotation that something good happened. You jumped off a cliff and survived; you're lucky. I guess someone on the outside sees it that way, but when the jumper was suicidal and has now been placed under all-day surveillance and is in excruciating pain, well, what's lucky about that?" "You've thought a lot about that." "You're not the first to insinuate or outright say that I'm lucky. Nothing that has happened to me in the past decade can be described as luck. It's just fate fucking with me." Zihr is silent for a moment, and you almost think that he's decided to go to sleep, to drop all forms of conversation. "Why did you choose me?" [[“Was hoping you'd be quiet.”|9.12HopingBeQuiet]] [[“I do trust you.”|9.12DoTrustYou]] [[“I have horrible judgment, remember?”|9.12HorribleJudgment]]
"Apology accepted." "Really, that's it?" "Want me to make a speech about how much I accept it?" "No. Of course not. I just didn't think it would go that way. Maybe some back-and-forth, maybe you talking about how I was wrong. Maybe even you teasing me about how you'll savor this moment because you'll never hear me apologize again." "Yea, I'm full of little surprises," you snort. "Why did you choose me?" [[“Was hoping you'd be quiet.”|9.12HopingBeQuiet]] [[“I do trust you.”|9.12DoTrustYou]] [[“I have horrible judgment, remember?”|9.12HorribleJudgment]]
"Let's just go to sleep, Zihr." "You really don't want to hear this, huh. You'd think you'd make some kind of joke about how you'll never hear me apologize to you again." "Probably. But, honestly, I just want to go to sleep. I didn't come in here to solicit an apology from you; I don't really care to receive one. I just want to sleep." "Why did you choose me?" [[“Was hoping you'd be quiet.”|9.12HopingBeQuiet]] [[“I do trust you.”|9.12DoTrustYou]] [[“I have horrible judgment, remember?”|9.12HorribleJudgment]]
"I wasn't trained to be a team player. Helping others, getting help … it meant accepting a blade in your back at the soonest convenience. And let's just say it didn't happen, well, my superiors always made sure to remind everyone that the person standing next to you wasn't a friend." "So, you made no friends where you used to live?" "I had two friends," you snort, "the rest were acquaintances at best, faceless silhouettes at worst. One, I have no idea where she's at or what she's doing, and the other … well, let's just say I would've never ended up in the Outlands if it wasn't for him." "You have to know <<if $cp>>the three of us<<else>>Ne0 and I<</if>> would never do that to you, right?" You shift, pulling the cover closer. "I never thought he would either." You close your eyes, behaving as if the act alone will make Zihr go to sleep as well. "Why did you choose me?" [[“Was hoping you'd be quiet.”|9.12HopingBeQuiet]] [[“I do trust you.”|9.12DoTrustYou]] [[“I have horrible judgment, remember?”|9.12HorribleJudgment]]
"Was hoping you'd be quiet and, after letting me sleep on the sofa, would immediately go to sleep." He laughs. "Yea, I guess that's fair. I'm acting like Checl now.<<if $cp is false>> Do you … uh … ever think of her?<</if>>" <<if $cp is false>>\ <<if $checl_whereabouts is "jail">>\ "I try not to. I'm sure she'll get out early for good behavior, but I don't know who she'll be when she does come out." "I don't even know where they sent her." "It's not Tebriri's?" "Not that I know. When I asked Sin, they told me that the courts had agreed to send her to another location. I'm hoping … well, I guess I can't really hope for much. Prison is prison." Indeed. It doesn't matter where they sent her, she won't come out as the Checl you remember. You know you'll probably never see her again, but it doesn't keep you from imagining how that reunion would go. By then, Checl may be able to put up a fight, and she'll probably have a few wordless things to say to you. <<else>>\ "I don't. Not really. But I'm happy to know that she's safe. It might not have been what she wanted, but keeping her out of all of this was the smartest thing. I doubt she could've survived any of it." "I think she would've. She'd have us." "We're not really doing an exceptional job, Zihr." "Speak for yourself," he snorts, and silence begins to descend once again. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "Remind me to tell her that you said that tomorrow." "Do it at your own risk. When she hears that you came to my room instead of hers, she's going to give you an earful." You moan. "Yea, you're right about that. Congrats, you live to see another day, raza." <</if>>\ "Good night, $name," Zihr says, yawning as you hear him shift. "Night," you respond, your eyes already closing and staying that way. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Whether you believe me or not, Zihr, I actually do trust you. As much as I can anyway." Though he does respond with something, your mind is far too focused on your words. You trust him. Do you? He was the first person to pop into your mind when you thought about where you could go to feel safe. That has to mean something, even if it was just as simple as trusting that he'd fight by your side if someone were to intrude. Yes, maybe that's what you meant and nothing more. Being as foolish as to trust him in any other form just feels unwise. Silly. And it's all giving you a headache. Tuning back into the conversation, you find that there isn't one. "Good night, $name," Zihr says, yawning as you hear him shift. "Night," you respond, your eyes already closing and staying that way. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I have horrible judgment, remember?" "Ah. Was I last on your list?" "No. If you were, then that would mean I had good judgment, I like to sometimes live up to the expectations resting before me." Zihr laughs, about to say something, but another laugh just ruins it. You let out a low chuckle, humming as you get comfortable. "Good night, $name," Zihr says, yawning as you hear him shift. "Night," you respond, your eyes already closing and staying that way. <a data-passage="9.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("9.12Room.Sin")>>\ A hand shaking your shoulder is what wakes you. Along with waking up comes a headache and a sense of grogginess that can only occur when you're awakened before your body deems it tolerable. You moan, burying your face into the pillow as you try to drift back off. "$name," Sin whispers, their fingers gently <<if $length is "bald">>roaming over your scalp.<<else>>roaming the surface of your hair.<</if>> "You may want to go back to your room." [[“Ashamed of someone seeing?”|9.13Ashamed]] [[“Five more minutes.”|9.13FiveMoreMinutes]] [[“Could I seduce you back into bed?”|9.13SeduceBackIntoBed]] [[“What time is it?”|9.13WhatTimeIsIt]] <<elseif hasVisited("9.12ZihrDirect2")>>\ You jerk yourself awake, eyes wide and breath rapid as you tighten your grip on the hand that was inches away from making contact with you. "$name?" Zihr questions, <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>the darkness is still too strong for you to make out basic things such as facial expressions.<<else>>his face contorted in concern.<</if>> You release his wrist, sighing deeply as you start to sit up. "What?" "I'm about to go to the training room. If you want to stay, then you can, but I just wanted you to know in case you woke up and I wasn't back yet." Stretching, you tell yourself to ignore his words and just get prepared to leave; it makes no sense to stay. "Look, about last night." "Ugh, we're not about to have the morning-after talk, are we?" "The what? No, I don't know what that is. I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened. It shouldn't have happened." "Why not? We were two sober adults who decided to kiss. We didn't do anything illegal, and neither of us forced the other." "I know, but," he roughly shakes his head. "Obviously none of that matters." He mumbles. "It didn't change anything." Before you can question him further, he heads towards the door, leaving you still sitting on his sofa. A lazy $hound trots over, dropping his head into your lap as you pat the side of his face. "People are confusing," you grumble, petting him for a few more seconds before rising. You're in your pajamas; in a way, it's good that Zihr woke you up as early as he did. At least now you can walk through the halls without receiving a dozen wayward glances. <a data-passage="9.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif $ch9bedscene is "checl">>\ <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> A part of Checl didn't wish to wake up. The idea that she would wake and find $name gone was a nightmare she was unprepared to face. For almost a year, she dreamed of falling asleep in $name's arms, waking up to their slumbering features, and then spending most of the morning in happy, domestic bliss. Back in the ark, partners would forage and then create items together, a symbol of their unity that would be added to their chosen nest. Checl wasn't exactly sure she would ever do that with $name for multiple reasons, but she was curious to find out. The sound of the toilet activating pulls her out of her thoughts, her demeanor relaxing as, a few seconds later, $name walks out. "$name!" she greets cheerfully. "I … I thought you left." "No, just needed to use the bathroom. Though, I should probably head back to my room. You know, before the entire floor wakes up and sees me in this." ?He <<verb "gestures">> to ?his clothes. "Huh. I never took you as someone who would care." "I don't. But I still would rather avoid the looks when possible." Perking up, she watches as ?he <<verb "wanders">> over to $hound's side. "Would you like to hang out today and do something?" "Like what?" "A … date, maybe? I know a place we can go. I've wanted to try their food for a while, and I'm pretty sure we can eat the same kind of food, so it shouldn't be a problem." She watches as ?he <<verb "straightens">>, ?his face contorting into one of ?his classic expressions. An expression that she has never been able to read; every time she sees it, $name pulls further away. The gap widens, and no matter how much she glides in hopes of keeping up, she falls. "I'll have to see," ?he <<verb "finally">> answers, and she forces her eyes to widen as she nods. "Of course, just let me know." With that, $name leaves, $hound happily trotting behind ?him. The door has long since shut before she finally tears her gaze from it, her talons digging into her padded palms as she glares at her blanket. So badly did she want to ask $name if ?he felt for her, the same way she felt for $him. If ?he could possibly see in their future, love. But she never would. Her heart too weak to handle what she believes the answer will be. <a data-passage="9.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif hasVisited("9.12LieBackDown")>>\ Nothing new disrupts you, a fact that brings you neither happiness nor prolonged anxiety. It feels like you've made all of this up, some odd sort of imagining cultivated a lack of sleep and worry. Entering the bathroom, you stare at your reflection, sighing at the shadows that haunt the skin directly underneath your eyes, and the red that begins to seep in at the corners of the sclera. There's nothing to do about it now. <a data-passage="9.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ You leave <<if hasVisited("9.12Room.Checl")>>Checl's room before she wakes, making sure not to disturb her as you go.<<elseif hasVisited("9.12Room.Ne0")>>Ne0's room before it wakes, or whatever its doing. You presume its meditating but your movement doesn't cause it to stir.<<else>>Zihr's room before he wakes, making sure not to disturb him as you go.<</if>> There's no reason for it other than the fact that you need to change clothes before the entire tower begins moving around. Otherwise, you'll have to wade through a sea of judgmental and probing gazes. Easier this way. Back in the room, you find everything as you left it. If your visitor ever returned, then they didn't do anything overtly obvious to further warn you of their presence. <a data-passage="9.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Ashamed of someone seeing me come out your room?" you ask, trying to make your tone seem light and joking, but there is an undercurrent of shame and fear. The painted up terran believes themselves good enough for a commander of the Nightwalkers. The reason you haven't been kicked out is because you've placed yourself in bed with someone of rank, allowing you to reap the copious benefits. "$name," Sin barks, their hand catching your chin and forcing you to look at them. "No. I don't even understand why you would think that. I told you, at least in my culture, ranking has never meant anything." "Ignore me." They sigh. "You are going to continuously put me through my paces until you prove all of your fears right, huh?" They place a light, chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling back. "The reason I said you may want to leave is because you're not exactly in clothes fitting of the public." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin">>
"Five more minutes," you moan. "I would allow it if I believed five more minutes to //just// be five more minutes. The way you say it, I fear you mean five more hours." "And some once said that two different alien species would never be able to communicate," you snort. "Why so early anyway?" "I doubted you would want to leave when the bulk of the floor is awake because you're not exactly dressed for the public." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin">>
"If I attempted to seduce you back into bed, would that work?" you ask, flipping over so that you can find where they stand. A tablet rests in one of their hands, and their face tells you what the answer is. "$name, don't," Sin warns, but your smile only grows as you try to put on your best pout and motion for them to come. "What is that thing you're doing with your face?" Sin laughs, and you snort, grabbing a pillow and throwing it towards them, and they easily catch it. You can name at least four sports that they would have excelled in back on Genesis with that kind of evolution. "Ass. Why so early anyway?" "I typically rise this early," they start, tossing the pillow back on the bed. "But I woke you up because you're not exactly dressed for the public. I believed you would rather get back to your room now, instead of later when an entire hall could see what you're wearing." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin">>
"What time is it?" you ask, letting out a yawn as you pick your head up to look around. The room is still dark, and the world outside follows its example. You can see the sky beginning to turn, but it hasn't done enough to constitute as being early morning. "I fear my version of time may not match your own. At best, I can tell you that it's a few hours after the turn of a new day." "So early, early." "I suppose." "Why are you waking me up now?" "I doubted you would want to leave when the bulk of the floor is awake because you're not exactly dressed for the public." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin">>
"Never cared much for other people's opinions on me," you remark, but begin to shift, lazily rising and stretching. You give your pajamas a glance over, but ultimately can't say you care. You catch Sin looking at you, turning only once they see that you had caught them looking. "You know, I've wanted to ask you this for some time. We never talked about it, but I felt we both agreed on the matter." "The matter being?" "Sexual attraction." "Ah," Sin hums, nodding along. "I hope so, otherwise we may have just entered into this under false pretenses. Shaphs don't feel sexual attraction." "All of you or just some?" "This goes for all of us, as far as I know. It's a shaph's biology, we do not reproduce the same way as mammals, and so, we feel nothing related to sexual needs. Any shaph performing the action does it more to please their partner; it simply does nothing to or for us. We don't even possess genitals. I hope that doesn't mean we won't continue //this//." [[“And if it did?”|9.13IfItDid]] [[“How do you feel about romance?”|9.13FeelAboutRomance]] [[“No, we're fine.”|9.13WereFine]]
"And if it did keep me from wanting to continue this?" "I can't stand here and act like I wouldn't be disappointed, nor saddened. But I would also understand. It was a discussion that we should've had in the beginning." "Tell me, Sin," you chuckle. "When would we have talked about it?" Their mouth opens, but then closes as they seem to actually think through your question. The truth is, this was probably the only time it would ever have come up. The day on the roof, you backed away from the conversation as a whole, far too timid and unwilling to think about what Sin's feelings meant for you. <<if hasVisited("8.11S2S_Romance2")>>\ "The day you came to my office before your bounty would have been opportune." "We made a deal that I'd think about it." "Would have still been a good moment to talk about it." You shrug. <</if>>\ "Luckily, it doesn't bother me. I don't care for sexual attraction either." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin2">>
"How do you feel about romance?" "If it isn't obvious, I feel very strongly about it," Sin laughs. "Should always ask to understand limits." "I possess none, not with romance. I don't mind most intimate acts or cuddling in bed, or letting hands wander and explore. I enjoy kissing. But none of it is because of the sexual part, but simply due to how much I feel like it connects me with my partner, something I hold highly." "That's nice to know. And no, we won't have any problems. I feel the same way as you." Sin's smile spreads, something you didn't know could happen. <<include "9.13Wake_Sin2">>
"No, we're fine. I had a feeling that you didn't care much for it. I'm happy that I was right." "What gave me away?" "There was one time where we were flirting, and something you said sounded like the two of us shared that aspect." "Ah, so you assumed," they chuckle, and you shake your head. "We assumed." <<include "9.13Wake_Sin2">>
Getting out of bed, you approach the door. "$name," Sin starts, and you turn once at the threshold. "I'll register you as someone who can come in and out of the room. Stop by whenever you want, even if I'm not here." You nod, though you're unsure if you'll ever take them up on the offer. Being with them is nice, beyond such a word in fact. But it still makes you nervous and causes you to feel like you're willingly walking into quicksand. You are just barely keeping your head above water with them, struggling to tread against mud disguised as something far more permeable. Sin makes you face the eternal question: Do you deserve happiness? <a data-passage="9.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You prepare for the day, showering and getting dressed, all the while trying to figure out how you'll spend the hours ahead. <<if hasVisited("9.12ZihrDirect2")>>For a moment, you linger, finding yourself replaying yesterday and this morning's events with Zihr, trying to figure out what was said, or better yet, what wasn't said to have caused him to react in such a way. It's hard to understand how kissing could have led to the kind of disappointment he portrayed. It's difficult to even figure out if you have something to apologize or buckle down on when you don't even know what //it// is.<<elseif $ch9bedscene is "checl">>For a moment, you linger, finding yourself replaying what Checl had said this morning. A date. You've … never actually gone on one before, the product of having been stolen from your home at such a young age. And then once out here, the opportunity never arose.<<else>><</if>> After short deliberation—and a quick check to make sure that there's no sign of a bounty—you decide to … //Note: You can choose all of them; each possesses a friendship and romantic route. Some routes, if done before others, will open up different conversations that help with other routes.// <<if $cp>>\ [[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]] <</if>>\ [[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]] [[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]] [[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]
<<if $ch9bedscene is "checl">>You decide to take Checl up on her offer to go on a date, pulling up your terminal to call her.<<elseif $checlRoPo >=3>>You decide to call Checl, knowing that she'd probably be open to hanging out. With your mind made up, you pull up your terminal to call her.<<else>>You decide to see what Checl is up to today, figuring that the two of you can probably pass the day away fast enough. With that decided, you pull up your terminal to call her.<</if>> "Hey," she greets, <<if $ch9bedscene is "checl">>looking far more refreshed and lively than she did earlier.<<else>>her entire demeanor conveying her openness and mood.<</if>> "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to <<if $ch9bedscene is "checl">>go on that date you talked about. We could get breakfast.<<else>>hang out together. We could get breakfast.<</if>>" Her face alone tells you that asking is worth it; her eyes sparkle with glee, and her feathers shift in a way that you learned usually conveys happiness. <<if $ch9bedscene is "checl">>\ "I would love to. I'll meet you at the sky car pickup area." Nodding, you close the connection and begin to head out, wondering what Checl had been doing since she obviously wasn't in her room. You'll learn soon enough. <<elseif $checlRoPo >=5>>\ "Oh, that sounds great. Is this … like … a date?" "I …" you internally sigh, seeing why it can't be. A date didn't mean you just suddenly took on new obligations; it just meant … a date. "Yea, sure, Checl." She cheers, reassuring you that at least for her happiness, agreeing was wise. "I'll meet you at the sky car pickup area." Nodding, you close the connection and begin to head out, wondering what Checl had been doing since she obviously wasn't in her room. You'll learn soon enough. <<else>>\ "Oh, that sounds like fun. Yea, I'm in. "I'll meet you at the sky car pickup area." Nodding, you close the connection and begin to head out, wondering what Checl had been doing since she obviously wasn't in her room. You'll learn soon enough. <</if>>\ Making sure $hound is comfortable, you scrutinize the room before leaving, so if anything is out of place when you return, you'll know. <a data-passage="9.14Checl1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Heading to the pickup area, you find Checl wearing a bright and pretty dress-like outfit. You're unfamiliar with the material, or if the zeach came up with the concept or another species entirely. At most, you can claim to like it or not; anything deeper than that is just not something within your wheelhouse of expertise. "Uh, $name," she starts, pausing as she takes you in in a similar fashion to how you first did her. "I thought we were going to get breakfast." "We are." "Why are you wearing clothes that look like you're ready to go workout then?" You snort, rolling your eyes as you gesture for her to enter the awaiting sky car. "Not all of us have such extensive wardrobes, Checl." She audibly gasps, the tips of her fingers meeting in what resembles a dainty clap as she leans towards you. "Can we … can we please?" [[“Can we what?”|9.14CanWeWhat]] [[“No.”|9.14CheclNo]] [[“Sure, why not?”|9.14SureWhyNot]]
"Can we wha- No." You shake your head. "No. I refuse. You are not dressing me up." "Please. You need more clothes, and I've always wanted to go shopping with you." "Checl-" "Please, $name. It'll be amazing." She peers at you patiently, waiting for your final say. "Fine." "Thank you," she shouts, <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>throwing her arms around your neck before kissing your cheek. "This is going to be amazing. Watch. We could get matching outfits."<<else>>heading into the sky car. You silently watch her, unable to keep the small smile from your face as you move to join her.<</if>> <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>\ "You go too far," you tease, but she has descended into a world all of her own. <</if>>\ <<include "9.14Checl2">>
You immediately understood what she was asking, and immediately found yourself shaking your head. "No. I refuse. You are not dressing me up." "Please. You need more clothes, and I've always wanted to go shopping with you." "Checl-" "Please, $name. It'll be amazing." She peers at you patiently, waiting for your final say. "Fine." "Thank you," she shouts, <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>throwing her arms around your neck before kissing your cheek. "This is going to be amazing. Watch. We could get matching outfits."<<else>>heading into the sky car. You silently watch her, unable to keep the small smile from your face as you move to join her.<</if>> <<include "9.14Checl2">>
"Yea, sure," you sigh, "it's not like we have copious amounts of work today." You doubt she hears the last part of your sentence, already celebrating as <<if $checl_touch>>she throws her arms around your neck, holding you close before darting over to the awaiting car.<<else>>she approaches as if she's about to hug you, pauses in a moment of realization, and then simply heads to the awaiting car.<</if>> You snicker, moving to join her. <<include "9.14Checl2">>
<<if $checlne0 >=2>>\ "Oh, I can't tell you how excited I am to finally do this with you. Most times, I usually go shopping alone or only with Ne0." "Ne0, huh," you smile, stretching out as you peer over at her, raising a brow. "How's that going between you two?" "How's what going between us?" "You and Ne0." You pause. "You do know that it likes you, right? Likes you more than how Zihr or I like you, for example." "I'm not stupid, $name. I know what you mean by 'likes you.' I just …" She peers outside the window. "Never thought about it in that way." "Because you just didn't know it liked you, or because you would have never thought of ever having a relationship with it?" "Both. Wouldn't it be weird?" "Why would it be? It's as similar as any other inter-species relationship." "Yes, but most other species have emotions. At the very least, I want to be in a relationship with someone who looks at me in a romantic way. I want to cuddle and kiss and hear a bunch of illogical, crazy but romantic stuff." [[“Well, how do you know it can't do that?”|9.14Ne0CanBeRomantic][$checlne0 +=1]] [[“Yea, I get it.”|9.14YeaIGetIt]] [[“You should give it a chance.”|9.14GiveNe0Chance][$checlne0 +=1]] [[“Might wanna tell Ne0 that.”|9.14MightWannaTellNe0]] <<elseif $ch9bedscene is "zihr" and $zihrRo >=50 and $zihrRoPo >=5 and $checlRoPo <2>>\ "So," Checl starts, her knee tapping against yours. She wiggles in her seat, tapping your knee again. "So?" "So, tell me about you and Zihr! Why didn't you tell me about you and Zihr? The two of you finally got together, and I wasn't even told?!" "It just happened, Checl." "Oh, no. This has been in the happening for a while. Everyone saw it." You pause. "Everyone?" "Sorry, $name. It was probably clear to everyone but you two. It was obvious that you two were attracted to one another, or at least it was to me. Are you happy?" "Don't ask me that, Checl." You sigh and place your attention back out the window. "You know I can't answer that, not truthfully." "Is it that you can't answer or that you just don't want to?" "Who knows," you grumble. The rest of the ride over is mostly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <a data-passage="9.14Checl3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ The ride over is predominantly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <a data-passage="9.14Checl3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Well, how do you know it can't do that?" "I guess you have a point, but do you think it can?" "I think it can, yea. Ne0 is an aberrant; we have no idea how emotional it can get. Ignore me if you don't find it attractive in any way. But if your only hang-up is that you don't think it can be romantic, then I say try." The rest of the ride over is mostly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <<include "9.14Checl3">>
"Yea, I get it." "You do." You shrug. "Enough to understand why you wouldn't want to take a chance on what is probably a very big if." The rest of the ride over is mostly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <<include "9.14Checl3">>
"You should give it a chance; it might surprise you." "Do you think it will?" "I think it can, yea. Ne0 is an aberrant; we have no idea how emotional it can get. Ignore me if you don't find it attractive in any way. But if your only hang-up is that you don't think it can be romantic, then I say try." The rest of the ride over is mostly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <<include "9.14Checl3">>
"You might want to tell Ne0 that then." "How bad is its crush?" "I'm sure you can figure that one out on your own." She sighs. The rest of the ride over is mostly filled with the chatter of an excited Checl. You would think she had planned this day weeks, maybe even months ago, given how she already seems to know where she wants to take you. You have to wonder if she even remembers the original plan being to go and eat breakfast. <<include "9.14Checl3">>
When the sky car lands, she wastes no time leading you down the already busy plaza, pointing from one store to another until she finally walks into a cheerful-looking one with hologram mannequins striking numerous poses behind the store window. In the middle of the store is a rotating platform, similar to the ones the trarkrans have back on Miarilia. On it are projections of the mannequins, showing off various clothing items. The store is large, and as far as you can see, it houses clothing for multiple species, each with its own area. Some outfits are actually present, but like most clothing stores, most are projections to show you the different colors and sizes the store has in storage. You recall the clothing stores back on Genesis being far more antiquated. The clothing was all in-store, there for you to run your fingers against, and even try on. If you liked it, you bought it ... or stole it, a problem new-century stores have mostly figured out. "Welcome back, Checl," a nurien woman at the checkout counter shouts, waving as Checl greets her back with a wide smile. "How many times have you come here?" "Too many times; this is actually my favorite store. I usually shop either with Ne0 or myself. The one time I brought Zihr along … he got annoying." You snort. "Shocker." She leaves your side, rushing over to the terran section. She flits between the numerous stands, sometimes delaying her dart to the next one to peruse through the projection samples. "Here, try this on. And this one. And oh, let's go with that one as well. Do you like that one? Because we can do that one next." [[“Checl. Breathe.”|9.14CheclBreathe]] [[“Do you want me to try on the entire store?”|9.14TryOnEntireStore]] [[“I'm not sure I'm rich enough for this.”|9.14NotRichEnough]]
"Checl." She pauses to look at you. "Breathe." "Sorry. I may be overly excited." <<include "9.14Checl4">>
"Do you want me to try on the entire store next?" "Would you like to?" she asks, a genuine question as far as you're concerned. "You can wear some of the other species' clothing, so if you want, then we can expand our search." "It was a rhetorical question at best, at worst, a sarcastic one." "Ah, sorry. I may be overly excited." <<include "9.14Checl4">>
"I'm not sure I'm rich enough for all of this, Checl. Maybe one or two outfits, but you just grabbed seven." You pause, glancing at her posture and the way she's angled. "And it seems like you're ready to grab another." "Sorry. I may be overly excited." <<include "9.14Checl4">>
"You really have been wanting to do this for a while, huh?" "I hope this doesn't sound like a fetish, because I don't have one, at least not in that kind of way. But terrans are so different. You come in different sizes and heights, and your skin tones are all these beautiful natural shades that I can't imagine any color wouldn't look great on your people. The only other species that I know that come close are raza, but their gradients can sometimes throw the colors off. Vetix: you have to get past their spikes, then their arms, and then be careful not to make the area near their necks out of breathable material. Plus, none of them seem to really care for clothing that doesn't serve a purpose. Shaphs have four arms, and from what Sin told me, a lot of materials are uncomfortable against their skin or bark ... or I think they had a special word for it, but I don't remember. And draqe just don't wear clothes. So, yes, the idea of making clothes for terrans is something that greatly excites me." She lazily flips through some clothing pieces. "Plus, you're attractive. I could give you a nest, and you would probably be able to pull it off." <<if $prebreakup_checl is 3>>\ She makes a bird-like note in the back of her throat, her eyes downcast. You don't push the shift in mood, already knowing what has brought it on. Instead, you behave as if you don't notice, waiting for her to act. Finally, she gestures for you to follow her to the dressing area. <<elseif $checlRoPo >=5>>\ She snorts, kissing your cheek, lingering a moment before finally pulling back. The way she stands, you believe she's about to say something, but she instead gestures for you to follow her to the dressing area. <<else>>\ She snorts, gesturing for you to follow her to the dressing area. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Checl5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Once there, she uploads all the codes that she added, and you step onto the pedestal, watching as the projection forms around you, scanning you before the first clothing item is applied, overlaying itself on top of your own clothes, darkening them so that you can really only make out the unbought outfit. "Oh, you look fantastic. I knew that outfit would look good on you." You shift around, trying to capture different angles. You can't say it isn't your style, mostly because you don't know what your style is. As a child, you always leaned more towards … [[Goth.|9.14Goth]] [[Brights and patterns.|9.14BrightPattern]] [[Athletic or fun wear.|9.14AthleticFun]] [[Preppy and classic.|9.14Preppy]]
Darkness. That was the sole word to describe what your fashion sense was once your mother allowed you to start picking out your own clothes. She didn't care much; her attention was always on just making sure that all six of her children had enough clothes on a single mother's budget. It was Dante who constantly questioned your fashion sense—or lack thereof, in his book. <<include "9.14Checl6">>
Bright clothing with a ton of patterns. The more patterns the better, a fact you thought your mother would raise a fuss about once she allowed you to start picking out your own clothes. She didn't care much; her attention was always on just making sure that all six of her children had enough clothes on a single mother's budget. Dante would describe it as loud, always reminding you how easy it is to spot you from down a street or long hallway. <<include "9.14Checl6">>
Athletic or what your mother would call, play clothes. You were always on the move, always getting into something or climbing up something, so you usually liked to wear clothes that made such activities enjoyable and not even more strenuous. Your mother didn't seem to care either; her attention was always on just making sure that all six of her children had enough clothes on a single mother's budget. <<include "9.14Checl6">>
Preppy and classic, the type of clothing that you never wanted to get dirty because stains just didn't wash out well on that type of material. They were more expensive than other styles, which is probably why you always got the fewest clothes, with your mother telling you to put some back because she couldn't make it work on a single-mother budget with six children. <<include "9.14Checl6">>
You smirk, trying to keep the chuckle from emerging but failing. "What's funny?" "I was just thinking about my fashion sense as a child. I think that was the only real time I ever cared about what I was wearing. Not to say I don't anymore, but it's mostly just convenient stuff. For two decades I wore clothing that either was good for spontaneous combat and running, or was a uniform forced on me." You're aware of the last part, but the reminiscent part of you marks it down as vague enough to be looked over, especially by someone as innocent as Checl. "Honestly," you start, pressing the button so the display ends and the next outfit in the lineup begins to materialize. "Nothing you pick out is going to feel right because I don't even know what //right// is." And perhaps that's where the crux of the issue originates: you're given freedom after craving it for so long, but you don't know what to do with it. The day Tsering expelled you from that plane set you on a new path, and you've been constantly fighting whether to run back to the old life out of superficial contentment or stay in a world you are afraid to admit you no longer know. "Well," Checl states, bringing you out of your suppositions. "There's no better time than now to figure it out, right?" You snort, more to yourself than aloud, as you nod. You try the rest of the clothes, liking only two outfits; you buy them, and Checl leads you to other nearby clothing stores, repeating the same process though she starts looking for herself as well. <a data-passage="9.14Checl7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As you sort through what's on display, you notice that Checl has grown silent. Her enthusiasm towards the activity is still present, but her focus has become removed or, at the very least, divided. "Everything okay over there, Checl?" you hum. "Um ... there is something I'd like to speak to you about." You wait for her to tell you what it is as she continues to look through the catalog, bypassing anything with darker colors. You find that she always lingers on the blues, yellows, and pinks, especially the more rouge pinks, which are the only dark colors she seems to dwell on. "I've been thinking about my future. About what I should do once my time is up, and I can do whatever I want. You know I like clothing and fashion. Back in the ark, it was my chosen career path. I'm not sure how far I'd be able to go; most zeaches go for something similar, and they just become tailor apprentices and helpers." She shakes her head, abandoning her search as she turns to you fully. "Vittorio talked to me about an ambassador position, saying that I'd be really good with it. He even said he'd write me a recommendation letter if I agreed. I spoke to Zihr about it, about which would be better. And he suggested I'd be realistic; Vittorio said something along the same lines." "And you want to know my thoughts?" "Yes." "Do you agree with them?" "I'm not living in my head. I know how cliché it is for me to want to become a fashion designer. In the ark, we played a game called 'Pass the Egg.' We didn't use a real egg, just a stone that was shaped like an egg at best. But if I lost a feather for every zeach that said they wanted to go into fashion, well … I'd be a pretty naked zeach. But that never stopped me from wanting." <a data-passage="9.14Checl8"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Because you knew you were better?" "What? No. I know some cultures and species have that kind of competitive nature, but not zeaches. Not vetix either, which is probably why their assimilation into our culture … or, ours into theirs, was so natural. Vetix are the same; a lot of them go into the same jobs and careers. So, no, I don't think I'm better than another zeach." She pauses, using the silence to look at a few more outfits before abandoning not only the task, but the store itself. The two of you walk out, heading to a nearby bench and take a seat. "Vittorio told me that if I join the ambassador program and get accepted, then my criminal record will be expunged. I understand that it's the logical thing, and I even feel like I'd be good at it, but it's the difference between doing something I'm good at versus something I'd love." She shakes her head. "I just want to know your thoughts. I'll still make my own decision, but you know me. You've seen so much in the world. I trust your thoughts; you're pragmatic." [[Encourage her to join the ambassador program.|9.14Ambassador][$checlLo +=1; $checl -=10]] [[Encourage her to go into fashion.|9.14Fashion][$checlLo +=1; $checl +=10]]
"Well, if we're going with just what I think is best, then I agree with Vittorio and Zihr. You can always do fashion on the side, as a hobby, but an ambassador is big. If you leave to go and do fashion, your chances of stepping back in and doing something like this will be gone; that's not true the other way around. You have connections few people ever get. I say you utilize it." <<include "9.14Checl9">>
"Honestly, I think you should go into fashion. I can see how passionate you are. I just walked through three stores with you, and that glimmer in your eye never once left. You weren't just excited; you were engaged, and you wanted to learn more. Fashion designers are a dime a dozen, an old terran saying that means there's a lot of them. But someone who cares not only about the clothing itself, but the person wearing it. Trying to figure out what would look best on them and how it complements their physique and skin tone. Someone who thinks outside the box and truly falls in love. Yea, that's not an everyday thing." <<include "9.14Checl9">>
<<if $checlRoPo >=5>>\ She nods. "Thank you. Come on, we should probably get going if we want to eat breakfast and not lunch." Nodding, you help her to her feet and choose to keep her hand in yours as you walk towards the side of the plaza that holds most of the restaurants. "Hi!" a zeach shouts, waving her hand towards the two of you. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just had to ask. It seems like you two are together; would you like to take part in our booth's activity? We provide all of the materials needed for a couple, such as yourselves, to make something." You glance over at Checl, who bats her lashes. "I think I told you before, but it's just something zeaches do. We make something together to show our unity." [[Make something.|9.14MakeSomething]] [[Pass on the opportunity.|9.14PassOnOpportunity]] <<else>>\ She nods. "Thank you. One more thing, $name." You pause, waiting for her to say whatever else is on her mind, but this time she remains silent. For a while, she is simply watching those who pass by, the numerous species that find themselves out and about. And to think, this is only a fraction of the species that you've seen in Illusio alone. Finally, she sighs, regaining your attention. "I want to thank you for agreeing to come. For … for being my friend and saving me that day. I guess this is coming out of nowhere, but the last few days I've been terrified for us … for you. It felt like you were pulling away from us. In the Outlands, at least you were present. We talked every day, and I felt like it wasn't just me who wanted to be friends with you; it was mutual. But recently, it always feels like we never speak, and when we do, you're not here. You're distant, miles, maybe even galaxies away. At the very least, your agreeing to this makes me think that all my worries were for nothing. That we are friends. I just want you to know that I deeply value our friendship. Hopefully, as much as you value mine." She doesn't let you answer, already getting up and starting to move away. "Come on, if we wait any longer, we won't be eating breakfast but lunch, and I really want to try this spot." You stand and follow, happy to finally put something in your stomach. Returning to the headquarters, <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>you kiss Checl goodbye<<else>>you say goodbye to Checl<</if>> before figuring out what's next on your list of unplanned things to do. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]] <</if>>\
"Alright, why not." The vendor zeach squeals with excitement, gesturing for you to follow her to the large vendor cart resting to the side. Your main focus is on a surprised Checl who is staring at you, silently trying to figure out why you agreed. "Just ask," you snort, leading her over to the cart. Currently, two other couples also stand there. One is a zeach and a vetix, and the other is two zeaches. "Okay, why did you agree?" "Do you not want to do it?" "I do, of course. But this doesn't seem like something you would be interested in." You squeeze her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "I'm interested because I know you are." She visibly grows excited, her grip on your hand tightening as she leads you the last few steps. "Do whatever you want. We should have everything you need to make something." "How much?" you question, hoping to get that out of the way. "It's free. We go around to different areas to help spread our culture and to just do something nice for the community. But if you would like to ever donate to our organization, I can send you our information." "Please do," Checl answers, and while she speaks to the zeach, you look over what is available. You can make a bracelet or a necklace. All common accessories. "So, what do you want to do? Any ideas?" [[A bracelet.|9.14Bracelet][$checl_acc to "bracelet"]] [[A necklace.|9.14Necklace][$checl_acc to "necklace"]] [[Ask her for an idea.|9.14Feather][$checl_acc to "feather"]]
"If it's all the same to you, Checl, I'd rather just go find something to eat." She nods, not showing whether or not she's disappointed in your decision. You're finding her to be a lot harder to read now. Maybe she's just gotten better at hiding it, or maybe you're getting worse. Though there's a third option as well: she's fine. With that, the two of you continue along, trying to find a place you'll both agree to eat at. Returning to the headquarters, <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>you kiss Checl goodbye<<else>>you say goodbye to Checl<</if>> before figuring out what's next on your list of unplanned things to do. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"Let's do the bracelet. Simple and something I shouldn't lose easily." Checl nods in agreement. <<include "9.14Checl10">>
"We can make a necklace. <<if $souvenir is "necklace">>I can add it along with this one," you tell her, wiggling the necklace you're wearing around so that she understands what you mean.<<elseif $souvenir is "scarf">>I wear this scarf everywhere; may as well add a necklace to it," you tell her, flicking the scarf that hangs dutifully around your neck.<<else>>I don't think I'll have an issue with it."<</if>> Checl nods in agreement. <<include "9.14Checl10">>
"I was gonna ask you the same thing." "Normally, zeaches use something special. If we both liked rocks or plants, for example, we would use that. Some do something that can be split in two to show the different souls that came from one." "You can use one of her feathers," the zeach points out, turning her attention to you while also helping another couple. "A lot of zeaches in inter-species relationships will take one of their feathers, cut it in half, and use it." "I like that idea," Checl smiles, and you nod. She carefully looks through her feathers, choosing one of the rouge colored ones. In hand, you cut it in half. <<include "9.14Checl10">>
The two of you begin decorating the accessory for the other, adding items and colors you think will fit your partner. You don't add too much to the $checl_acc since you want to keep it basic enough to go with anything Checl will ever wear. "Here you go," she states, handing over the $checl_acc that she made for you. <<if $checl_acc is "necklace">>You put the necklace on her yourself, shifting her feathers out of the way, and before moving back, you place a soft kiss to the back of her neck. She turns her head, and you place your next kiss against her mouth.<<elseif $checl_acc is "bracelet">>You tie the bracelet around her wrist, lightly tracing your fingers across her arm, feeling her shiver from your touch. Leaning in, you kiss her cheek.<<else>>You give the feather over, allowing her to figure out how she wants to wear it. Like you suspect, she somehow manages to place the feather amidst the others, though this one dangles in a way that makes it obvious that it's not like the others, something you find yourself growing soft at the thought of.<</if>> "Ready to eat?" She chuckles. "That's the main thing you're concerned with now, huh?" "Yes." Hand in hand, you go, walking down the sidewalk like you originally planned, keeping an eye out for the breakfast place that Checl originally spoke of. Returning to the headquarters, <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>you kiss Checl goodbye<<else>>you say goodbye to Checl<</if>> before figuring out what's next on your list of unplanned things to do. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
If anyone is free, you'd think the aberrant draqe, busy trying to understand its place in the world, would be. You snort, pull up Ne0's information, and call it. "Greetings," Ne0 answers. "Need assistance." "Oh," you state, "yea, sure. I'll be right over." You head to Ne0's room, finding the door automatically opening, and you invite yourself in. "What's wrong, Ne0?" <<if $checlne0 >=2>>\ It says nothing as you receive a message from Ne0. You raise a brow, glance up at the emotionless draqe, then look back down to open the message. It takes a few rereads before you finally just decide to bring it up. "Uh, Ne0, what is this?" "Poetry." "Yea … I see that. Why?" "Attempt to woo Checl." "Attempt?" "Failing." <a data-passage="9.14Ne0Crush"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "Quandary." "Which is?" "Future." "You're confused about your future?" "Affirmative. Purpose unknown." "Oh, we're at that part of the self-reflection journey, huh?" "What comes next?" <a data-passage="9.14Ne0NoCrush"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"You want my help in wooing Checl?" "Affirmative." <<if hasVisited("9.14YeaIGetIt") or hasVisited("9.14MightWannaTellNe0")>>\ "I talked to her earlier about you; I'm not exactly sure she's as into you as you hope she is." Ne0 stands there quietly, staring at you. You're unable to parse even the smallest detail from it, and it's just then that you notice just how robotic it really is. Most organic lifeforms have a tick, whether it's on their face, in something like feathers or quills, or in their body posture. But Ne0 simply stands before you, giving nothing away. And underneath it all is probably a hundred nodes processing the simple data of 'Checl doesn't like you in that way.' "Understood." [[Leave it there.|9.14LeaveHerBe][$ne0 -=10]] [[Encourage it to try.|9.14GoGetHer][$ne0 +=10]] <<else>>\ "Well, first, let's get rid of you using poetry to do that." "Query. Why?" "Because poetry isn't really the way to go, despite what the g-net says." Ne0 visibly deflates, slumping down onto the bed as it stares straight ahead. "Dysfunctional. Confused." "Yea, join the crew on that one." [[Keep going with the poetry route.|9.14Poetry]] [[Tell it to make something.|9.14Painting]] [[Encourage it to go on a date.|9.14Date]] <</if>>\
"Are you going to be alright with that?" "Choice?" "Are you asking me if there's a choice in the matter?" "Affirmative." "No, I don't really think there is." It nods, and you decide that it's a good time to leave. Patting its shoulder, you exit the room and try to figure out what to do next with your time. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"Look, Ne0. From what she said, it sounded like she was more unsure than it being a downright no, that she's not interested in you. She's concerned that because of what you are, you won't love her. That there won't be any romance. If you can prove her wrong, then I'm sure you can make it work. Do you understand?" "Romantic gesture." "Yes. Do you understand what that means, though?" "Additional research required." It stares straight ahead, and after a while you realize that it's pretty much logged out of the conversation. You're not sure what Ne0 is doing, but whatever it is, it means the conversation is done, and just standing here won't change that. So, you turn and go, exiting the room and trying to figure out what to do next with your time. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"Maybe, just maybe, the poetry route isn't horrible. Checl likes things that are made, and she's a romantic, so maybe a poem will actually work. At the very least, it shows you put effort into it, and she'll enjoy that. Just …" You take a second look at the poem that Ne0 has written. "Just not this." "Flaws?" "That is … um, putting it mildly." "Critique?" "It's hard to critique something where the poet refers to one's breasts as organic milk-bags." "Galactic network recommendation. Advised to be 'sexy and complimentary.'" "Neither is present here, trust me on that one. Let's start with something basic, like looking at common zeach poetry maybe." You pull up your terminal, then send it to Ne0's room screen. If you made a list of what you expected to be doing when you walked in here, this wasn't one of them. <a data-passage="9.14Poetry2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"See, one of the main things these poems have in common is that they complement a zeach's plumage. A lot of flowery language talking about nature and the present." The more you study the examples, the more you realize how much you would've hated analyzing and annotating these things back in grade school. When you were in school, the galactic world was still too new. Primers may have already been in the thick of it, but Genisers were still wide, bright-eyed explorers imagining what more could be discovered. "Any of this giving you ideas? Or do you still want to write about titties?" Ne0 spares you a blank stare before nodding. It remains quiet for a moment longer before you get a new message, and with it, the start of a new poem. "Rose-blushed feathers, dipped in a cerulean sea. Nice. I don't know what dappled moth kisses are, but it sounds poetic enough. Just don't forget that this isn't just comparing her to sunsets and lost comets. You'll need to add some bits about why she's important to you." Ne0 nods. <<include "9.14Ne0Crush2">>
"Maybe you should make something. Not poetry. Something else, like an accessory. Or," You snap your fingers, pointing to the paintings that are slowly beginning to decorate its room. "A painting. That's an even better idea. I know for a fact that Checl would be honored and love it." Ne0 seems to perk up at the idea, gazing at the paintings before rising and heading over. "Query. Subject of painting?" "Hey, I gave you the idea. You have to do some heavy lifting here, too. Come on. This should be the easy part." "Zeach feathers. Nature. Flowers. Clothing. Fashion. Portrait of self." It continues to ramble off things as it stands and goes to grab a blank canvas before freezing in front of it. "Everything okay?" <<include "9.14Ne0Crush2">>
"A date would be wise. It shows that you care about her, took time out of your day to spend time with her, and if you manage to make it a nice one, you learn some new stuff about her." "Purpose?" "The purpose of getting to know new stuff about her?" "Affirmative." "Oh, Ne0. Why do I have a feeling that the only reason you're interested in Checl is that she's attractive?" It keeps staring at you, letting you know that may be exactly the reason. "There has to be some reason why you like her other than 'she's pretty.'" "Confused." "Ne0, I cannot stress how wrong I am for this job." "Analyzing available data." "Wait, that's not the answer either." "Confused." "That makes two of us. Okay, look. Just be yourself, and lean into the more emotional side of you. What's the most illogical thing you can think of?" "A date." You open your mouth then close it, sighing. <a data-passage="9.14Date2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Okay. How about this. You hang out with Checl, and then you tell me how it goes; we'll go from there. Maybe being in the situation will help you figure more of it out." Ne0 nods in agreement. "How?" "How what?" "Ask Checl." "Just ask her." "Unknown emotion." "Nervousness," you hum, already on top of it. "It's common. And no, it doesn't go away, not easily anyway." Ne0 goes silent again, and you start to worry. "Are you okay?" <<include "9.14Ne0Crush2">>
"Processing new information." "Good luck," you tell it, patting it's shoulders and heading towards the door. "$name." You stop and look over your shoulder at Ne0. "Thank you." "Anytime." With that, you go, exiting the room and trying to figure out what to do next with your time. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"That's something you have to decide. Why did you even join the Nightwalkers?" "Advertisement directive." "Huh?" "Advertisement directed to join group." "That's … one reason to join. Do you like it?" "Affirmative … but. Unknown reason why. Friendships made? Job being done?" "If <<if $cp>>the three of us<<else>>Zihr and I<</if>> were to leave, would you continue working here?" "Unknown." "Well, it sounds like that's the first step to you figuring it out, Ne0." <<if $neo >=50>>"Advice, $name. Please." The emotion in it's voice causes you to pause. It has come a long way from the draqe you had first met.<<else>>"Advice, $name."<</if>> [[“Continue along this path.”|9.14ContinuePath][$ne0 -=5]] [[“It's up to you.”|9.14UpToYou]]
"You should continue along this path, it's a pretty good gig for staying impartial. You're told who to go after, whether or not you can kill them, and that's it. It's pretty straight-forward. No need to let your emotions seep in and get the better of you. Probably a perfect career for an aberrant draqe." "Understood." "You should make the decision yourself though. My opinion shouldn't shape your entire future." It simply nods, and you leave the discussion at that. "Is that it? Is that all you needed to talk about?" "Affirmative. Will … deliberate." You leave it to its reflection, exiting the room and trying to figure out what to do next with your time. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"No one can help you with this Ne0, it's part of being sentient and choosing your own path. We can give you advice based off of your preferences and hobbies, but otherwise, there's nothing we can do. You'll learn you'll hate things that you think you should love, love things that you never thought interesting." "Sounds … overwhelming." "Yea, tell me about it. I don't know how far a draqe can go, what your limits are when it comes to sensations and emotions, or when your logic stops and emotional reactions take over. But that is part of life. Learning what you like and what you don't like and shifting your life accordingly." "Your path?" You frown, thinking the question over, but you're unable to answer. You're not entirely sure what the answer to its question is. But you are sure you'd rather not find it. "Is that it? Is that all you needed to talk about?" "Affirmative. Will … deliberate." You leave it to its reflection, exiting the room and trying to figure out what to do next with your time. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
<<if $ch9bedscene is "sin">>\ It may be silly. Regardless of your feelings for one another, Sin is still a Commander of an entire floor of hunters. They have duties to attend to, and just because you're not busy doesn't mean they aren't. And yet, you still scroll to their contact information and call them. "$name," Sin chuckles, shaking their head as if they had done something embarrassing just a moment ago. "What's wrong?" "I had to stop myself from calling you darling," they admit, waving their hand as if to dissuade you from responding. "Ignore me. I'm still working on the 'taking it slow' part of it all." You smirk, but keep your thoughts to yourself as they have asked. "I was wondering if you'll be free anytime soon." "Bored?" "Very." They chuckle, then hum lightly. "I usually take my morning walk around this time. It's my only free time if you wish to join me." "Sounds like it's a moment of privacy for you." "Your presence will only make it better. Bring $hound, the park I go to is usually pretty empty when I do go." "Alright, where am I meeting you?" "Sky car pickup area." You hang up before calling $hound to come to your side, and head to the pickup area to find Sin already there. <<else>>\ It's an odd kind of request, seeing that Sin is probably plenty busy, not to mention your superior. But they still give great advice and, at the moment, you feel like you may need it. "$name?" Sin answers. "Is everything okay?" "Yes, I was wondering … it's an odd request. But I wanted to see if you were free." "Is there something you would like to discuss?" "No. Maybe." "I see. If you're up for it, I usually go on my morning walk around this time." "Are you sure I won't be distracting you?" "One time will not bother me. As long as this isn't an everyday thing." "No, no. Of course not." "Alright, then. Meet me in the sky car pickup area. And bring $hound; usually the park I walk is empty at this time." You hang up before calling $hound to come to your side, and head to the pickup area to find Sin already there. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Sin2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long." "Don't worry. I was on my way when you called; waiting a few minutes is a practice of patience." You both get into the waiting car. "What park are we going to?" "I doubt you know it; it lies between the Tebriri and Talke sector. Not exactly a big park, but considerable." "Why isn't it busy?" "Most who live in the Talke sector don't have time to go walking, and no one in Tebriri cares much to go this far out simply for a park when there are five others that are closer." "So, why did you?" Sin's smile widens. "I like the trees." The park isn't //too// far away. You can at least understand how Sin can go and return without a scheduling conflict. The sky car parks itself, and the three of you depart. Like Sin had said, the park isn't gigantic. A fountain rests in the middle with what looks to be liquid plasma coming out of the sprinklers. An assortment of plants and crystals decorate not only the area near the fountain, but also along the path. You're surprised that Sin has claimed this area as their chosen park. Maybe it was due to the lack of people, but it seemed trite and basic. The few trees that do dot the landscape are pretty and definitely not native. Some are blue, twisting in an assortment of ways with a limited number of branches that hold large, bright orange nuts. Others are cactus-like but considerably different from the ones you grew up around. These have no visible spines, and instead of flowers, a large shrub seems to grow out of the top and every arm. The cactus itself is a strange brown, one with hues of blue and orange. It, like so many others, is alien but beautiful. <a data-passage="9.14Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You can let him go," Sin says, stopping on the path and directing your attention to the park as a whole. "He should have a couple of minutes of freedom before anyone shows up." You nod, giving the command and watching $hound rip across the landscape, only slowing when something catches his attention. You hope there are no small animals around; otherwise, this may be their last day. "I never asked, how did you find him?" "I was in the Outlands, basically near death, and he saved me from some phrapions and the sun. I'd be dead if it weren't for him." "Ah, so your loyalty goes both ways." "He's probably saved me more times than I saved him. The day I met him, he seemed to try to tame //me//. When I left, he decided to follow despite my protests." "Do I want to know what you were doing in the middle of the Spires?" [[Tell them.|9.14TellThem]] [[Change the subject.|9.14ChangeSubject]]
"I was on a … task," you start, trying to figure out exactly what you should say versus what you would rather keep to yourself. You highly doubt Sin is still in the dark about your last job, but that doesn't mean they suspect the Dinami. "We were flying over the Outlands when I was pushed out of the plane." "You were what?!" Sin gasps, but you wave their concern away. "I'm obviously fine." "You should be dead." Ah, you hadn't actually thought about that part of the story. So many facets of your life are made up of parts that you wish to share, but they only make sense when the darkness is also revealed. Before you can even figure out if you wish to go further into depth or lie, Sin <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>places a hand on your shoulder, one finger caressing your cheek.<<else>>raises a hand, giving you an understanding nod.<</if>> <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ "It's fine. Maybe you'll tell me later, or maybe I'll never know. Either way, I understand." <<else>>\ "A secret amidst many. It's fine. I'm simply happy that you did indeed live." <</if>>\ The two of you start walking, following the smooth pebble path that hardly weaves. As far as you can see, it creates just one big circle, nothing amazing or extravagant. <<include "9.14Sin4">>
"No. No, you don't. We should start walking. I'd hate to be the reason you didn't get your morning walk in." Sin chuckles, and you do exactly that, walking along a smooth pebble path that hardly weaves, the fountain being the centerpiece. <<include "9.14Sin4">>
"Why do you like this place? I feel like other parks would have more nature or far more fun paths to navigate." "You'd be correct. But the plants here sing a very sweet song this early in the morning. It brings me an odd kind of peace." "What do you mean?" "Have you ever missed a place you've never been? Craved an experience you never had in a world that isn't yours?" "Getting poetic with me, Sin?" "Hardly. Poem has never been a strength. But that is how I feel when I hear them sing. A vivid image of the world they come from paints itself, and I find myself wishing I were part of it." <<if $view >=50>>\ "I understand. I've felt that way too many times. Back on Genesis, I'd stare up at the sky, and there'd be a part of me that felt like it had seen glimpses of all the worlds, only for me to come back down and realize … I've hardly even seen Terra Prime, let alone other galaxies." <<else>>\ "I don't understand, not that much. I found myself exhausted toward space before I even got out here. It's a big place, and there's not one part of me that cares enough to truly care for it. Which I know is weird, but … that's how I feel." "I can admit that I have never felt that. I'm not one of those people who wish to venture the stars; never did. But feeling ennui about something as grand as the galaxy, that is new." You shrug; you've heard others express the same sentiments as them, but it hasn't changed your view. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Sin5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's places like this that remind me why I'm still here. Why I have chosen this to be my purpose and haven't given up, despite having done so in the past." "That doesn't sound like you." <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ They pause at the edge of the plasma fountain, closing their eyes for a moment before humming. "<<if hasVisited("9.12LuckyPerson")>>Before, I told you that my heart was given to a woman named Aira. Do you remember?" You nod.<<else>>"I suppose I should tell you all of it. It shouldn't be a secret between us. I was once in love with a raza woman named Aira. We went to Crion boot camp together and then joined the force. She balanced out my absurd optimism with grounded realism. And what's more, she shared in my dream … or at least I thought she did."<</if>> "The two of us had the same idea, the same wishes and dreams. Above all, we wanted to make this world a better place. We were together for four years. I believed I knew her, understood her like no other." They shake their head in mild disgust. "While working with TBDP, I began to see signs of corruption. Tampered evidence, victims forced into silence, innocents sometimes wrongly accused and persecuted, while blatantly obvious guilty criminals were allowed clemency. I told Aira, and she told me I was just imagining things and to let it go. My curiosity wouldn't allow me to simply move on. I dug deeper and deeper until I found out that it was my own people, and that Aira was part of it. I chose not to confront her, believing it wiser to go straight to our superiors so that she couldn't scramble or warn her conspirators. Only to learn I was the one on the outside. They were told to be more careful, and I was fired and blacklisted from law enforcement. I spiraled from there, entering a dark period where everything turned … grey. I lost the love of my life, the woman I wished to marry, as well as a job I cared for. How could I change something that didn't want to be changed? What could I do when the world was showing me that not even those I believed in, who I held close, cared? It was Mahgunta who pulled me back, reminded me that there is still work to be done. And I thank her every day for it." [[“Have the two of you ever …”|9.14TwoOfYouEver]] [[“What did your roots say?”|9.14RootsSay]] [[“Is that why Mahgunta is worried?”|9.14MahWorried]] <<else>>\ They pause at the edge of the plasma fountain, closing their eyes for a moment before humming. "Well, let's just say that I'm not always as wise as I try to portray myself as." "Curiosity got you in trouble?" "This time, yes." You peer over at them, frowning. "Is that why Mahgunta is worried about how much you're helping me?" "Part of it." They straighten and nod to the path, beckoning for you to join them back on it. "Let's finish our walk. I need to get back before my first meeting." "What all do you have planned today?" "Meetings, debriefs, a memorial service to help plan, and then a new group of hunters to meet." "I hadn't thought about the deaths." "No one usually does." <a data-passage="9.14Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Have the two of you ever …" you trail off, hoping that Sin will put the rest of the sentence together instead of making you speak it. "No," they laugh, gesturing for you to get back to walking. "Mahgunta has always been nothing but a friend and my superior. I haven't been with anyone since Aira." "Is it because you simply were too afraid or because you just never found someone?" "Mostly the latter. I went on a date or two, but no one ever fascinated me." "Not until a certain terran showed up?" They chuckle. "Precisely. I remember standing off to the side with the other Commanders, overlooking all of the potential hunters. We usually guess who will make it and who will come close. When I saw you, I found it hard to look away, especially during the skill showcase. An enigma begging for me to unravel it. Your skill and confidence were intoxicating, and though I know you hate it, your markings were intriguing. Who was this terran? No, who was this Geniser Terran with no past?" You stop them, grabbing their bottom hands and pulling them close with a smirk. "Have you figured that one out?" Slowly, Sin bends down, kissing your cheek before capturing your lips. "No. And I don't think I ever will. And I'm completely fine with that." <a data-passage="9.14Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What did your roots say?" "What?" "You said that your curiosity wouldn't allow you to let it go. What did your roots say?" Sin stares at you before bowing their head, a slight smile appearing as they gesture to the path. You head back to it and resume walking. "It told me to continue digging as well. Told me that something was wrong, and even thought Aira not being as furious as I was odd." "Your roots are never wrong." "Not yet anyway." "Not even towards a certain terran?" They chuckle. "Technically, it hasn't been wrong about you. It told me you may be dangerous, and now more than ever, I believe that. I remember standing off to the side with the other Commanders, overlooking all of the potential hunters. We usually guess who will make it and who will come close. When I saw you, I found it hard to look away, especially during the skill showcase. An enigma begging for me to unravel it. Your skill and confidence were intoxicating, and though I know you hate it, your markings were intriguing. Who was this terran? No, who was this Geniser Terran with no past?" You stop them, grabbing their bottom hands and pulling them close with a smirk. "Have you figured that one out?" Slowly, Sin bends down, kissing your cheek before capturing your lips. "No. And I don't think I ever will. And I'm completely fine with that." <a data-passage="9.14Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Wait," you pause, the question forming in your mind before you say it. "Is that why Mahgunta is worried about how much you're helping me?" "That is exactly why. She believes I'm repeating my mistakes, though differently. I … cannot entirely say that I haven't had the same fears." "Really?!" "Are you going to tell me that you haven't had or still don't currently have fears pertaining to us?" "Well, no." "Fears can be proven wrong, even if they have a rightful pedestal to stand upon. Everyone was worried about what you were and what you could mean for the organization. It helped even less that I was championing you." They chuckle, gesturing to the path so you two can start walking again. "You know, I remember when I first saw you. I remember standing off to the side with the other Commanders, overlooking all of the potential hunters. We usually guess who will make it and who will come close. When I saw you, I found it hard to look away, especially during the skill showcase. An enigma begging for me to unravel it. Your skill and confidence were intoxicating, and though I know you hate it, your markings were intriguing. Who was this terran? No, who was this Geniser Terran with no past?" You stop them, grabbing their bottom hands and pulling them close with a smirk. "Have you figured that one out?" Slowly, Sin bends down, kissing your cheek before capturing your lips. "No. And I don't think I ever will. And I'm completely fine with that." <a data-passage="9.14Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You continue along the path, finishing the entire walk before calling $hound back to your side to leave. "Before I forget," Sin starts, once the sky car has joined the traffic. "Can you tell Zihr that I exhausted my list of contacts. If anyone knows anything about his family or who he may be, they'll get to me later, but I have my doubts." "What do you think?" "Regarding Zihr's history? That it's a fruitless endeavor. I understand why he won't ever stop wishing to look, but this galaxy is large, and raza aren't exactly a small species. Their numbers are amongst some of the largest in the galaxy census, finding a single family of unknown size amongst that …" Sin trails off, sighing as they shake their head. "Who knows, maybe he'll get lucky." <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ "Maybe." Making it back to headquarters, Sin grabs you before you can go your separate ways. Now in their arms, they kiss you passionately, deep with a prevalent need to keep you there. "You need to get to work," you whisper against their lips, and they choose to respond by kissing you again. "I suppose I do." Their last kiss is to your forehead, and finally, though they do not until the last moment, they release you and head one way as you head the other. You watch them for a moment, calming a thumping heart as you try to figure out what you wish to do next, and not about how much you feel you have fucked up by allowing Sin into your life. <<else>>\ "Maybe." Once you make it back to headquarters, Sin says their farewells before you go your separate ways, and you figure out what you wish to do next. <</if>>\ <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
<<if $zihrRo <50>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $shakyzihr to true>> <</nobr>>\ You muster the strength to head down to the training room, going over what you're interested in doing, but finding it all too tiresome for your current mindset. Of course, that may change depending on who's there and which sections they're utilizing. By the time the elevators open up to the training room, you decide to just head to the back where the weights rest. A set of resistance machines and gravity-manipulating weights reside there with only about three others present. Heading to one of the machines, you begin racking the weights, hardly starting your first set when a familiar face gains your attention. Zihr walks in, unaware of your presence as he heads to a nearby mirror and glances at the blossoming darkness on his cheek. You continue your current rep before placing the weights down and approaching the raza. "Am I to assume you lost?" you ask, causing him to jerk around, eyes wide until he sees you and then they narrow.<<if $ch9bedscene is "zihr">> This is not the same raza you kissed, it barely is the same one that allowed you to seek refuge in his room.<</if>> "I'm not in the mood, $name. Save it for someone else." "Well, let's put you back in the mood," you huff, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's get back in that ring." "What? Why would you think that I want to go back in after just coming out?" "Because you undoubtedly want to work off whatever anger you got stewing. And at the very least, the two of us-" You pause in consideration. "At the very least, //I// won't be trying to beat you." He doesn't answer but you can hear him following behind you. He re-wraps his knuckles while you choose against it. You don't plan to land any hits, and if it does come down to you throwing a punch, you aim to throw weak ones. Your hope is to finally get Zihr to talk about what's bothering him. A long and non-exhaustive list. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr3.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ You decide to take a short trip to Zihr's room, curious whether he's free. You have an idea of what you can do, and you're even a bit confident he'll love it. It takes a few minutes for him to open the door, and when he does, you're greeted by a grimacing face that's currently sporting a not-yet-fully-blossomed bruise. "What happened to you?" He rolls his eyes. "I was challenged; I accepted." "Did you win?" He doesn't answer, or you suppose he does; it's just not verbal. "You should really stop letting others goad you into things." "You'd think I would've learned that lesson already, after dealing with you for so long." "You've always been stubborn." You smile, and though Zihr seems to find amusement in your words, his attention seems far more set on the ache in his jaw. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Do you need something?" he asks, moving aside to let you in. You decide to stay where you are, gesturing to the end of the hall where the elevator rests. "I want to take you somewhere, you in?" He pauses, his eyebrows not knowing whether to furrow or rise in a cocked and doubtful position. "Is this where you kill me?" <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>\ "I literally just told you I liked you." "Yea, and how many people breathing have you told that too?" "None, but not because I killed them." He rolls his eyes, smirking as he motions for you to give him a moment. He heads back inside as you wait in the hall until Zihr rejoins you. He now wears <<if $cp>>a cozy-looking jumpsuit, one that you instantly understand was picked out by Checl; there's just no way Zihr would choose it for himself.<<else>>an outfit similar to his last; this one is probably just fresh.<</if>> <<else>>\ "I would've done that back in the Outlands if I really wanted to." "I suppose that should make me feel better about whatever it is you have planned," he snorts, rolling his eyes as he motions for you to give him a moment. He disappears back into his room as you wait in the hall until Zihr rejoins you. He now wears <<if $cp>>a cozy-looking jumpsuit, one that you instantly understand was picked out by Checl; there's just no way Zihr would choose it for himself.<<else>>an outfit similar to his last; this one is probably just fresh.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $cp>>\ Noticing your stare, he sighs and gestures to the outfit. "It was Checl's idea." "I imagined as much." "She said I looked good in it." "You do. It fits you; I just know you wouldn't have given it a second glance if it wasn't for her." He hums in agreement as the two of you begin walking down the hall towards the elevator. <<else>>\ "What?" "I'm not taking you to the training room, you know." "You are the last person to speak about what I'm wearing. We could change clothes right now, and no one would be the wiser." You chuckle as the two of you begin walking down the hall towards the elevator. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"So, where are we going?" "Too impatient to wait and see?" "I guess you can say that. I like to know the places I'm going is all." <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>\ As you enter the elevator, you reach over and grab his hands, pausing at the connection for a moment. It's not that //that// voice chimes in, but you're simply noticing just how much more open you're being. Is it the excitement of finally having it in the open, as well as Zihr being receptive to it? Or are you behaving like that of an unruly child who has seen nothing but rules, and at last, you taste freedom? You choose the third option: not to linger on it. "Guess this'll be a lesson in patience." "And here I thought you were going to ask me to trust you." You snort, keeping your true thoughts to yourself. You're closer. You like Zihr. But you don't think you'd go as far as to say that. Not yet, anyway. <<else>>\ You enter the elevator and press the button that'll take you to the sky car pickup. "Be patient, Zihr. I know how hard that is for you." "Immensely," he grumbles. <</if>>\ Once there, you punch in the numbers to get to your destination, relaxing in the seat as you plan to enjoy the ride. <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.1SinTalk"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Before I forget," you start, snapping your fingers. "I was told by Sin to tell you that they've exhausted their list of contacts to help you. They said that someone may get back to them, but they have their doubts." "More bad news, great," Zihr sighs. "What did the historian say?" "She showed me some conflicts that may have corresponded with my birth, but there are too many. And it was only the ones she could find near Miarilia; for all I know, I'm from an entirely different colonized world she wasn't looking at. I'm not giving up, but I am starting to lose hope. Or, maybe it wasn't an incident that separated us. If that, then there may be no news." [[“You knew this wasn't going to be easy.”|9.14GoingToBeEasy]] [[“How much does it matter to you?”|9.14HowMuchDoesItMatter]] [[“And if there is no news?”|9.14NoNews]]
"You knew this wasn't going to be easy." "Actually, I did. I think that's my problem with everything." "What do you mean?" "You came from an entirely different galaxy, $name. At the very least, you've been to two different planets. I haven't ever been outside of the Outlands. Taouron was huge to me, Tebriri is even bigger, and from what I'm seeing, it's punitive in comparison to other worlds. All of this is just …" He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, scowling as he glances out the window. "It's a lot. Sometimes it's too much." There is very little you can say. He was right. Crion is nothing compared to the colonized worlds like Miarilia, Roviri, or Nemenus. And then there was Nathora, the seat of the Nova Galactic Coalition. Even you haven't seen the area, only heard of the sprawling beauty of the cityscapes and the galactic space station that very nearly serves as a planet itself. <<include "9.14Zihr2.2">>
"How important is this to you?" "It's still important. I know what you may be thinking: that I never knew them, so what will that information change? I didn't come from there, so what's the point of trying to learn it? And I can't disagree with that. But I want to know … I need to know." "Well," you start, shrugging, "you waited this long. What's a few more months or years?" He chuckles. "Agreed." <<include "9.14Zihr2.2">>
"And if there is no news? If you find out that you were just an orphaned raza given up by your parents?" "I'll accept it," he nods, though there is a hint of doubt in his eyes. "I'll accept it, but I just don't believe that's the case." "Why?" "My blade. All of it is because of that damn blade. If my parents didn't care about me. If I had no family, no ties, then why was I given to my mentor with that blade?" He makes a good point, especially since the dagger was of exceptional make. "Did you show it to the historian?" "Yea. She didn't find anything." <<include "9.14Zihr2.2">>
The rest of the ride is quick. You depart the sky car, leading Zihr to the building in front of you. "What is this?" "I guess each language would have its own thing, but back home we called them movie theaters. Some of the rooms are for the newest releases, but some of the private ones allow you to watch any vod you want." "The amount of things I still know nothing about," he mumbles, but you're already moving forward, hoping he won't get caught up in all that he lacks and just live in the moment. The two of you walk down the short hall where all the current movies being shown are advertised. <<if hasVisited("9.12Room.Zihr")>>\ "Come on, I managed to reserve a private room on the way over." "Did you already choose a movie?" You nod, guiding Zihr to the section where the private rooms normally are. You've never been to this theater, but you have been to others, and most of them have the same layout. The bulk of the building is for the actual screening rooms, with the private rooms being upstairs. You recall one you visited during a hit; you managed to dispatch the target pretty quickly and, not wanting the room to go to waste, stayed to watch the film. It was actually decent, a dramatic love story between a zeach and a vetix, trying to navigate a field of religion and war. Politics also managed to tumble their way in, along with tradition and culture. It had a tragic end, the female vetix dying during some kind of clan conflict that left the zeach alone. It did a marvelous job portraying the culture of both species, while also making for an engaging story that honestly shocked you. Shocked you enough that you forgot that a cadaver was less than ten feet away. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "So, what do you want to do? New release or old?" "New release," he answers, gazing over the holo-posters of all the movies currently available for viewing. "Do you have a preference?" You join him, and decide on … [[Drama.|9.14Drama]] [[Action.|9.14Action]] [[Romance.|9.14Romance]] [[Comedy.|9.14Comedy]] [[Documentary.|9.14Documentary]] <</if>>\
"I'd rather see something dramatic." "So, this one movie about a klyc traversing the world as a space pirate should work, huh?" <<include "9.14Zihr2.3">>
"Any action movies will do." "So, this one movie about a klyc traversing the world as a space pirate should work, huh?" <<include "9.14Zihr2.3">>
"I've always been a fan of romantic movies, if they have any out." "So, this one movie about a klyc traversing the world as a space pirate just won't do?" <<include "9.14Zihr2.3">>
"Any comedies showing up on the list?" "So, this one movie about a klyc traversing the world as a space pirate just won't do?" <<include "9.14Zihr2.3">>
"If I had to choose, I'd say a documentary." "So, this one movie about a klyc traversing the world as a space pirate just won't do?" <<include "9.14Zihr2.3">>
<<if hasVisited("9.12Room.Zihr")>>\ Entering the room, you dim the lights and point to the interface menu on the table in the middle. "That's the concession menu. You can put your food and drink orders in." "This is amazing," Zihr admits as you bring up the menu to start the movie that you had chosen, hoping he'd enjoy the movie you chose. As soon as the movie begins and the iconic western whistle begins, Zihr's eyes grow wide as he turns to you. "You remembered?" "You told me this yesterday." "Yea, but …" He doesn't finish his sentence as he continues to stare at you, chuckling softly after a moment of deliberation. <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>Though he sits nearby, he leaves an empty seat between you and him, an action that makes no sense to you, but you remain silent about it.<<else>>He takes a seat in the row in front of you, at an angle that will make it natural if the two of you wished to talk.<</if>> "Which is this?" "One of the most iconic western flicks. If you're going to be a fan of western movies, you need to know 'The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly'." "I never asked, are you a fan?" [[“Naw, never really cared for them.”|9.14NeverReallyCared]] [[“I love them.”|9.14LoveThem]] [[“Not a fan, but I've seen my fair share.”|9.14FairShare]] <<else>>\ "Is that the one that caught your eye?" "Yea, but only because of this massive slug-blob beside it." You move to see what he's staring at. "Oh, wow, they managed to get a Ja'ok'kloren." "Did my translator mess up, or was that an actual word?" "It's an actual word, a species. The big thing about them is that they're ugly, period. It's not me being mean; there are some species unable to even look at them because they're just that disgusting. They feed on biomass, so they're practically what they eat. I heard about them, but I've never seen one. From what I'm told, they're actually pretty chill and diplomatic. They're just ugly." "And they got one for the movie." "It's a risk. But I'm curious to see if it worked. Ja'ok'kloren's have this cool robotic armor they use, and it's needed to speak to others, so I'm curious to see if it stays in the armor the entire time." Zihr types the information in, securing two tickets for you as you head to the appropriate theater. Despite this being a matinée, the theater is over halfway full, possibly meaning that you're not the only one interested in the appearance of the usually elusive species. You follow Zihr to a row farther back, choosing the middle seats as you sit and relax. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.3RegMovie"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Naw, I never really cared for western movies. My older brother, Dante, now he loved them. I can't count how many times he forced me to sit through and watch them with him." "Your brother," he starts, but is cut off by the sound of the movie actually starting. You watch as he jerks back around, immediately becoming engrossed in the film. <<include "9.14Zihr2.3WM">>
"I grew up in Arizona, a state whose history had its fair share of cowboys and great west stories. It was hard to avoid, not that I really tried." "That sounds amazing," he starts, about to say more when the actual movie begins and it causes his to jerk back around, totally engrossed in the film. <<include "9.14Zihr2.3WM">>
"I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I've seen a fair share of them. I grew up in Arizona, a state whose history had its fair share of cowboys and great west stories, so it was actually kind of hard to avoid thanks to school and my brother." "Your brother," he starts, but is cut off by the sound of the movie actually starting. You watch as he jerks back around, immediately becoming engrossed in the film. <<include "9.14Zihr2.3WM">>
<<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>\ As the movie continues, you find your attention slipping over to Zihr, watching as his amber eyes light up with glee when the action starts or whenever the lead actor delivers a line that Zihr resonates with. On one hand, it's odd to see someone enjoy a story like this with so much excitement. On the other, it's almost normal. You see no difference between him and someone from another country on Genesis who finds something they love residing in another culture. But it's entertaining to watch. There are moments throughout the movie when you notice Zihr shift, gazing at the seat between you as if a look alone would make it disappear. You're still not sure why he chose to leave a gap between you, especially if he's wishing to eliminate it. He could just get up and place himself in the seat. You two agreed to take things one day at a time, but you're not sure what that means to Zihr. It could mean taking things slowly while he tries to understand his own feelings, or this may just be where he resides when it comes to romance. If that last one is true, you're not sure how compatible the two of you are. <<else>>\ The movie continues, and Zihr enjoys it far more than you ever could. His amber eyes light up with more and more merriment as the movie continues on. On one hand, it's odd to see someone enjoy a story like this with so much excitement. On the other, it's almost normal. You see no difference between him and someone from another country on Genesis who finds something they love residing in another culture. But it's entertaining to watch. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"How does this usually work?" Zihr asks, staring at the curved screen that's projecting nothing but ads at the moment. "They'll give people a few more minutes to come in after the time it says it's supposed to start. Until then we're stuck watching ads as they try to get us to order something from their concessions." You gesture to the menu interface on the armrest. "This is kind of amazing." "You should see the bigger city ones. You practically feel like you're in the movie. You can smell what they're smelling, feel the different temperatures, or if it's raining, you feel it hitting your skin." "They can do that?" "Oh yea, that technology has been around for a while. I'm sure the next thing they'll decide to do is literally have movies where you play a starring role in it." You're mostly being sarcastic, though you wouldn't be entirely surprised if it happened. Zihr, on the other hand, seems to take your words as gospel, his eyes wide in amazement. You sit back, waiting patiently for the movie to begin. When it does start, you find yourself immersed and pleasantly surprised at the acting of the Ja'ok'kloren. It hasn't come out of its suit, if it ever will, which may make other movie viewers angry or content. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("9.12Room.Zihr")>>\ "That was amazing," he says, his eyes not on you but on the credits screen. "I … um … I'm not used to getting gifts or surprises. This was … nice." <<if $cp>>\ "Careful, I may have to tell Checl that you were nice to me if you keep at it." "Good luck," he sneers, "she'd never believe you." <<else>>\ "Careful, Zihr, I may start to think you actually like me instead of just put up with me." <</if>>\ <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>There is a pause before Zihr tugs on your hand, helping you to your feet, ending the movie date.<<else>>Zihr stands, and you follow his lead, bringing an end to the activity.<</if>> The two of you leave the private screening room behind, walking back out into the main lobby and then outside onto the bustling street. <<else>>\ <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>You jump, slightly startled when something rubs up against your hand, only to find that it's Zihr's. You're not sure whether he did it on purpose or if he was just shifting and it ended up rubbing against yours. You act as if you ruled it an accident, half your attention back on the screen while the other half keeps watching Zihr. His gaze shoots over to your hand, and you can see the contemplative look that enters his eyes. But he does nothing. You two agreed to take things one day at a time, but you're not sure what that means to Zihr. It could mean taking things slowly while he tries to understand his own feelings, or this may just be where he resides when it comes to romance. If that last one is true, you're not sure how compatible the two of you are.<<else>>The rest of the movie carries on the same way, and you figure that they went the safe route, making sure the Ja'ok'kloren. A decision you can't fault them for, even though you wished they at least gave a peek for the sake of those here who were more ignorant of the alien species.<</if>> As the movie reaches its end, the room's lights begin to slowly dim back to life. You rise, stretching as others do the same, a gentle chatter echoing through the room. Zihr joins you, following you as you leave the room behind, and then the theater altogether as you walk back onto the busy streets of Tebriri. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="9.14Zihr2.5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I would've never known something like that existed," Zihr admits, stretching and looking up at the sky. "Makes me scared about the long list of things I still don't know about." <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>\ "Look at it this way, you have an entire world to explore. There's a lot of things I wish I could relive over for the first time." "No one's ever done something like this for me," he admits, reaching out for your hand before stopping short, seeming to rethink the gesture. "You've done that a few times." "Done what?" "Seemed like you wanted to touch me, but then stop and rethink it." "Can you pay attention less?" he asks, a joking edge to his words, but enough seriousness for you not to abandon the topic. There is a pause, before Zihr releases a deep and shaky sigh. "I was worried about crossing boundaries. Maybe you didn't want to be touched, maybe you didn't even like it. Maybe that's not even something people do." "So you stopped due to over-thinking." "I guess that's a fair thing to say. There's a lot of things that I want to do and explore, but I'm not sure how to go about it. I'm not sure if you want to do it." [[“You can always ask.”|9.14AlwaysAsk]] [[“You're not alone in that.”|9.14NotAlone]] [[“It's understandable.”|9.14Understandable]] <<else>>\ "Cool, huh." "How many films have you seen in theaters?" "Not that many, actually. It's just not something I've had time for." "All those years before you found yourself in the Outlands, and you didn't have time." "Nope. I'm actually surprised the bounty hunting doesn't have us running around more. But I guess when you're in a big enough organization, you get more free time as the workload can be tossed around." A statement that should be true with the Dinami as well, but obviously isn't. You were either one of their favorite pets, or they simply didn't have the manpower, despite what you saw. There were hundreds of people back in the main headquarters, and yet, you saw yourself on a job so frequently that one could assume it was only a couple of dozen of you. You suppose there were different areas of expertise, like some being smugglers and others con artists. Some were even sent on the same job without knowing it. "Glad they do. There's way too much to explore. I feel like I'm still in the dark about half of it." You pat his shoulder before gesturing to the awaiting sky car lane. Nodding, the two of you go and get into an awaiting sky car. You're quiet on the way back, going over all that he said and knowing your feelings don't rest that far off. There is still that voice telling you not to go further, to keep this as surface-level as possible. But the reasons evade you. You're not able to put them into words like Zihr did, though that may be for your own sake. Once back at the headquarters, before you can walk off, Zihr grabs your attention. "Thanks for this, $name. I enjoyed it." "Anytime." The two of you go your separate ways, and you try to figure out what to do next. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]] <</if>>\
"You can always ask me, Zihr." "And what happens when you get sick of me asking you questions?" "Then I'll tell you, and we'll figure it out from there." He sighs deeply, nodding his head. <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"You're not alone in your curiosities; it's common." "Yea, but you're still comfortable. If I gave you the go-ahead, you'd probably kiss me right here and now in front of everyone. No questions asked. I'd stand here and figure out if that's something you should do on the sidewalk and in front of strangers." "Are you giving me the go-ahead?" There's a twinkle in his eye, and he blushes as he looks around at those who pass by. [[Leave it there.|9.14LeaveIt]] [[“Ask him again.”|9.14AskAgain]]
"It's at least understandable. You've never allowed yourself to feel anything for someone." "Yes, and I never really asked my mentor about it. I know how it works because I've seen or heard about it. But it's nowhere near the same when you're trying to experience it." "Then give yourself a break." He sighs deeply, nodding his head. <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
You don't push him any further, if he's uncomfortable then you'll give him time to figure out what he likes and don't like. <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"Hey," you state, grabbing Zihr's chin gently and forcing him to look at you and only you. "Do //you// want me to kiss you?" "I'd like that," he mumbles, and so do you. It's a quick one, no need to tongue him down on the sidewalk, even if PDA isn't something you have an issue with. But it is a deep one, one that you hope helps him figure out what he likes and wants and allays the fears. As you move away, he follows, grabbing you to get one last second in before finally breaking the kiss off. <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"Look … I just … I don't know where we'll end up, but I think I'm starting to. And I think I'm getting scared of the possibility of ever losing you." "Zihr." "Yea, I'm sorry," he says, pulling back and walking a few steps away before turning back to face you. "I don't mean to get deep. This is supposed to be us testing the waters. I don't know what is too much. It doesn't help that we already have a rapport. I feel like I'm throwing myself into something I'm not ready for, with someone I should despise and-" You eliminate the space and silence him physically, placing your finger against his lips as he immediately shuts up. [[“Did you really ever despise me?”|9.14DespiseMe]] [[“One day at a time.”|9.14OneDay]] [[“You can be honest with me.”|9.14HonestWithMe]] [[“Are you scared of feeling more than me?”|9.14ScaredOfFeelingMore]]
"Did you really ever despise me? I mean, truly?" You remove your finger from his lips, but he captures your hand in his, staring at it, then at you. <<if $attitude >=60>>\ "No, not really. We argue, but I don't think you're a bad person. I can see that you try. That's not to say you don't irritate me regardless, though. I stand by that, and I don't think being romantically involved with you will change that." "Damn, Zihr, you're such a romantic." He laughs. <<else>>\ "Kind of. Not in a way that makes my feelings for you lessen or anything. But there's a lot of things you did back in the Outlands that pissed me off. I'm sure you'll do tons more. Guess it's just another thing we'll have to navigate." "Well, at least you're honest." He laughs. <</if>>\ <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"One day at a time. You said it yourself." "But what happens when I realize I'm too impatient for that?" he asks, taking your finger off his lips but refusing to let go of your hand. "Well, I guess that'll be some giant leaps in a day." He laughs. <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"You can be honest with me, Zihr. If you're nervous about something, just say it." "I get it. One part of me wants to give you my all. It wants to trust you, and it does, in a way. But then another part of me just, like I said before, feels like it's all happening too fast. Don't ask me to explain it. I really can't. I want to speed it up, but then I also don't. It's something I have to work through." "So, nothing I say will make it better?" "I don't think it will. I think time will help. I know time will help." <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
"Are you scared of potentially feeling more than me?" His eyes widen, and you start to wonder why you never clued in to just how much he wears his thoughts. He almost rivals Checl. "You already said it, so lying doesn't make much sense, huh?" Yea. Yea, I do. It's something I have to get over myself, and I'll figure it out." "So, nothing I say will make it better?" "I don't think it will. I think time will help. I know time will help." <<include "9.14Zihr2.5Ro">>
Nodding, the two of you go and get into an awaiting sky car. You're quiet on the way back, going over all that he said and knowing your feelings don't rest that far off. There is still that voice telling you not to go further, to keep this as surface-level as possible. But the reasons evade you. You're not able to put them into words like Zihr did, though that may be for your own sake. Once back at the headquarters, before you can walk off, Zihr grabs your attention. "Uh, so, was that a date?" he asks. "Yes," you snort. "Did you enjoy it?" "Yea, but I think the next one will be better." He doesn't say why that is, and instead, walks off. You watch him for a while, before turning and figuring out what to do next. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"What's the point of this, $name?" he asks, throwing the first punch as soon as you nod that you're ready. You easily dodge it, and when he tries to throw another, you swat his fist out of the way. "Let's figure out if this is a stress-reliever for you." "How can this relieve anyone?" "We all have our activities, some more physical than others," you snort, noticing how Zihr's scowl grows. "How long are you going to act like I'm public enemy number one?" "Depends, how long are you going to behave like it?" The next punch he throws is easily swatted away, but you're also forced to push him away, noting the vigor in this punch that was absent in the others. <<if $ch9bedscene is "zihr">>\ [[“Most people don't get an attitude after kissing.”|9.14AttitudeAfterKissing]] <</if>>\ [[“I thought we made progress.”|9.14Progress]] [[“Did you punch your last opponent like that?”|9.14PunchLastOpponent]]
"You know, most people don't catch an attitude after having a make-out session with someone. Usually they talk, at worse they just leave." <<include "9.14Zihr3.2">>
"And here I was thinking that we made progress." <<include "9.14Zihr3.2">>
"Did you punch the person who gave you that bruise like that?" <<include "9.14Zihr3.2">>
"Shut up and just fight," he growls, throwing another, this one even wilder than the last. "That's your problem," you growl, swatting numerous punches out of the way before ducking to get behind Zihr and pushing him forward, earning a small reprieve. "You let your emotions fight. All someone has to do is figure out how to get under your skin, and you've lost the fight." "Anything else. Want to critique my stance? How I shoot my gun?" "If you're going to keep adding stuff to the list like that, then I may as well charge for my observations." He lunges for you, managing to sweep your feet out from under you, but you twist your positioning so that you're now straddling his lap. "The fuck is your problem, Zihr?" you ask, swatting his hand out of the way as he still tries to land a hit. "I'm not the one who did that to you." "Sometimes I wish that's all you did. It'd be fucking simpler." "What does that mean?" "We're not having this out here." "Fine!" you shout, grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind you. He's too shocked to pull away, something you cannot entirely blame him for. Normally, you'd let him have it and just move and leave. But constantly going back and forth is one too many mixed signals for you. You decide to drag him down a hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Others will be coming and going, but it's the only place you can think of besides the elevator. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr3.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We're having it out here, then," Zihr notes, raising a brow as he looks further down the corridor where the bathrooms are. "Are you going to tell me what your issue is?" "If I say no?" "You're childish," you grumble, but you move away so that he can freely walk away. "But I'm not going to force you to speak. Just know that I want the same energy from you from here on out. No complaining about how I didn't get it because you damn well didn't speak about it." He stares at you for what feels like minutes before sighing. <<if $ch9bedscene is "zihr">>\ "I can't keep trying to figure you out. I have no intention of dissecting every action to figure out your intention behind it and whether you're actually doing it because you like me or just getting a kick out of teasing me." <<else>>\ "I'm tired of trying to figure you out. It's not all on you, though. It's my fault for having any modicum of feelings for you." <</if>>\ "Even though I genuinely like you?" "You … do?" "Obviously." "No," he scowls, "don't say obviously. Ever since I met you, you've done nothing but tease me, and it was //obvious//you meant nothing by it. You said it to piss me off or because you wanted to change the conversation." <<if $ch9bedscene is "zihr">>\ You fill out the rest of that thought. "So when I kissed you, you believed it was my way of just jerking you along some more." "Exactly. I'm not like you. I know I haven't been in a relationship, but if I ever am, I'm serious. I want to be serious. I don't want to have to second-guess someone's every word." <<else>>\ You fill out the rest of that thought. "So as soon as I started actually showing interest …" "It comes off as nothing but another moment for you to tease me. I'm not like you. I know I haven't been in a relationship, but if I ever am, I'm serious. I want to be serious. I don't want to have to second-guess someone's every word." <</if>>\ "I get it," you sigh, unsure of how exactly you want to respond. He's not wrong; you do flirt and tease to change the conversation. It's something you've done since your Dinami days. Tsering has brought it up multiple times, but he also fell for it, willingly, it seems. <a data-passage="9.14Zihr3.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"So, what do you need from me?" "I'd say prove it. Or at least show it. I already admitted to liking you, but I'm not going to stand here and act like I'm willing to give all of myself just because you flashed me a cute smile." "You think my smile is cute?" you smirk, and he throws you a look. Chuckling, you raise your arms in surrender. "I can't change everything, Zihr. I like to tease you. I'll be honest with you, if you're patient with me." "Alright. We'll see. Sand-mud traversal." You raise a brow. You've heard a few others in the Outlands say that, but you never really cared to figure out what it means. For some reason, it feels like nothing much has changed, as if the two of you are still standing on opposite sides of a crater, wondering who's going to make the first move to get to the other. You had already decided that you liked Zihr, and though you're not entirely sure where this will go, you do want to at least try. The thought makes you shiver, that dark voice stirring, but you lull it back into mock complacency. <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>\ "Before I forget," you start, snapping your fingers as the two of you head back the way you came. "I was told by Sin to tell you that they've exhausted their list of contacts to help you. They said that someone may get back to them, but they have their doubts." "More bad news, great," Zihr sighs. "What did the historian say?" "She showed me some conflicts that may have corresponded with my birth, but there's just too many. And it was only the ones she could find near Miarilia; for all I know, I'm from an entirely different colonized world she wasn't looking at. I'm not giving up, but I am starting to lose hope. Or, maybe it wasn't an incident that separated us. If that, then there may be no news." [[“You knew this wasn't going to be easy.”|9.14ZGoingToBeEasy]] [[“How much does it matter to you?”|9.14ZHowMuchDoesItMatter]] [[“And if there is no news?”|9.14ZNoNews]] <<else>>\ Heading back to the main section of the training room, Zihr nods his head towards the elevator. "I need to think, but I'll see you later." "Yea," is all you find yourself able to say as he walks off. Things feel even more awkward now. And if it all leads to disaster ... you scowl, heading back towards the weights to finish up at least a set. After that, you'll figure out what to do next. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]] <</if>>\
"You knew this wasn't going to be easy." "Actually, I did. I think that's my problem with everything." "What do you mean?" "You came from an entirely different galaxy, $name. At the very least, you've been to two different planets. I haven't ever been outside of the Outlands. Taouron was huge to me, Tebriri is even bigger, and from what I'm seeing, it's punitive in comparison to other worlds. All of this is just …" He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, scowling as he glances out the window. "It's a lot. Sometimes it's too much." There is very little you can say. He was right. Crion is nothing compared to the colonized worlds like Miarilia, Roviri, or Nemenus. And then there was Nathora, the seat of the Nova Galactic Coalition. Even you haven't seen the area, only heard of the sprawling beauty of the cityscapes and the galactic space station that very nearly serves as a planet itself. <<include "9.14Zihr3.5">>
"How important is this to you?" "It's still important. I know what you may be thinking: that I never knew them, so what will that information change? I didn't come from there, so what's the point of trying to learn it? And I can't disagree with that. But I want to know … I need to know." "Well," you start, shrugging, "you waited this long. What's a few more months or years?" He chuckles. "Agreed." <<include "9.14Zihr3.5">>
"And if there is no news? If you find out that you were just an orphaned raza given up by your parents?" "I'll accept it," he nods, though there is a hint of doubt in his eyes. "I'll accept it, but I just don't believe that's the case." "Why?" "My blade. All of it is because of that damn blade. If my parents didn't care about me. If I had no family, no ties, then why was I given to my mentor with that blade?" He makes a good point, especially since the dagger was of exceptional make. "Did you show it to the historian?" "Yea. She didn't find anything." <<include "9.14Zihr3.5">>
Once back in the main section of the training room, Zihr nods his head towards the elevator. "I need to think, but I'll see you later." "Yea," is all you find yourself able to say as he walks off. Things feel even more awkward now. And if it all leads to disaster ... you scowl, heading back towards the weights to finish up at least a set. After that, you'll figure out what to do next. <<if $cp>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Checl")>>You've already hung out with Checl.<<else>>[[Hang out with Checl.|9.14Checl]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("9.14Ne0")>>You've already hung out with Ne0.<<else>>[[See what Ne0 is up to.|9.14Ne0]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Zihr")>>You've already hung out with Zihr.<<else>>[[Go to the training room. (This is Zihr's route.)|9.14Zihr]]<</if>> <<if hasVisited("9.14Sin")>>You've already hung out with Sin.<<else>>[[See what Sin is up to.|9.14Sin]]<</if>> [[Start bringing the day to an end.|9.15]]
"Alright, $hound," you sigh upon entering your room, plopping yourself on the ground as you call the aiczeots over to you. He comes to your side and sits beside you, already understanding what's about to happen. And like every other time, you get straight to cleaning his scales and detoxifying his tongue. <<if $inv_5fullcanisters>>You make sure the canisters that you have are still usable, replacing the ones that seem to have diminished in value.<<else>><</if>> You woke up today, confused about how you could possibly spend it, and here you are ending it, actually tired. Who knew socializing could actually be so exhausting. <<if $cp>>\ A low chirp grabs your attention, and you mentally command the chip to read the message as you continue cleaning $hound. <span class="chip">Message from Checl: I want to try this new bar I found. Anyone up for a night out?</span> You summon the actual message on your terminal, watching as a few seconds pass and Zihr replies, followed closely by Ne0. <span class="chip">Zihr: I'm free. Where is it? Ne0: My self will attend. Checl: It's near the Paisoik Plaza. I'll meet you guys there.</span> You stare as they continue messaging one another, part of you wondering if they even realized that they had included you. [[Message that you're in.|9.15MessageIn][$team +=1]] [[Message that you're too busy.|9.15MessageOut]] [[Just show up.|9.15In][$team +=1]] [[Ignore it.|9.15Out]] <<else>>\ Finishing up with $hound, you try to stifle a yawn, though you're not exactly sure why. It's the perfect time to just go to sleep, seeing that there's nothing left to do. And yet, you find yourself unwilling to just get in bed. You haven't forgotten about your guest, if they actually do exist. What will you do if they visit tonight? Repeat yesterday's plan? You won't be able to constantly run from this, and again, that's if you're actually running from anything to begin with. Steeling yourself, you get ready for bed, committing the entire room to memory and making sure everything is closed and locked. Short of pouring some kind of powder on the floor or putting laser traps at the entrances, there's nothing more you can do. You need to know whether someone is actually here, either to feel a sense of relief at not going crazy or to rid yourself of this growing paranoia. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you get into bed, taking one last look around the room before lying down and going to sleep. <a data-passage="Chapter Ten"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_10.png" alt="Chapter Ten" style="float:center"/></a> <</if>>\
It was an open invitation; acting as if you're being left out is just childish. You type a response and send it, bringing up the bar's location on another screen. <span class="chip">Zihr: If you get down here soon, we can share a sky car. $name: Are you paying for this sky car? Ne0: Funds available. Zihr: Ne0 got it.</span> Finishing up with $hound, you make sure everything is locked, just in case your paranoia is actually grounded in something far more realistic and sinister. Ensuring that $hound is comfortable, you leave, successfully catching up with Zihr and Ne0 and you head to the bar. <<include "9.16">>
The idea of getting drinks actually sounds pretty appealing right now, but you see little reason to tell them that. You'll just show up, it'll at least be fun to see what their reactions will be. Finishing up with $hound, you make sure everything is locked, just in case your paranoia is actually grounded in something far more realistic and sinister. Ensuring that $hound is comfortable, you leave, calling your own sky car and heading to the bar that Checl mentioned in the original messages. From what it sounds like, Zihr and Ne0 are also on their way, so you'll probably arrive around the same time. <<include "9.16">>
You're not in the mood to socialize or be bothered by others at the moment. You type out a message that says as much, closing down your terminal before shifting your attention back to $hound. You turn up your music and focus on the task at hand, shoving everything else away. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Finishing up with $hound, you try to stifle a yawn, though you're not exactly sure why. It's the perfect time to just go to sleep, seeing that there's nothing left to do. And yet, you find yourself unwilling to just get in bed. You haven't forgotten about your guest, if they actually do exist. What will you do if they visit tonight? Repeat yesterday's plan? You won't be able to constantly run from this, and again, that's if you're actually running from anything to begin with. Steeling yourself, you get ready for bed, committing the entire room to memory and making sure everything is closed and locked. Short of pouring some kind of powder on the floor or putting laser traps at the entrances, there's nothing more you can do. You need to know whether someone is actually here, either to feel a sense of relief at not going crazy or to rid yourself of this growing paranoia. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you get into bed, taking one last look around the room before lying down and going to sleep. <a data-passage="Chapter Ten"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_10.png" alt="Chapter Ten" style="float:center"/></a>
No one will be surprised if you don't respond; it wouldn't be the first time, and you doubt it'll be the last. Closing your message terminal, you shift your attention back to $hound. You turn up the music and focus on the task at hand, shoving everything else away. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Finishing up with $hound, you try to stifle a yawn, though you're not exactly sure why. It's the perfect time to just go to sleep, seeing that there's nothing left to do. And yet, you find yourself unwilling to just get in bed. You haven't forgotten about your guest, if they actually do exist. What will you do if they visit tonight? Repeat yesterday's plan? You won't be able to constantly run from this, and again, that's if you're actually running from anything to begin with. Steeling yourself, you get ready for bed, committing the entire room to memory and making sure everything is closed and locked. Short of pouring some kind of powder on the floor or putting laser traps at the entrances, there's nothing more you can do. You need to know whether someone is actually here, either to feel a sense of relief at not going crazy or to rid yourself of this growing paranoia. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you get into bed, taking one last look around the room before lying down and going to sleep. <a data-passage="Chapter Ten"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_10.png" alt="Chapter Ten" style="float:center"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You hadn't heard about this bar, it wasn't on the side of town you usually frequent, nor did the actual establishment look like the type you'd pick. Back when you were in the Dinami, if you did visit a place like this it was because Tsering dragged you to it. It was too flashy, too 'mainstream' for you. You have always been more attracted to the bars that seem to fade into the background and with minimum foot traffic. Despite it being night, the sky its common dark misty grey, the streets were awash with colorful lights portraying different color spectrums to each eye. It cast the buildings in the area in spirited tones that beckon for those looking for a good night to investigate further. <<if hasVisited("9.15In")>>\ "$name?" You turn to see Zihr and Ne0 approaching, a look of disbelief on the raza's face. "Where's Checl?" "Said she's already inside with a table. I'm …" he pauses, his ear twitching as he continues to stare at you. "I'm surprised you came." <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>He reaches forward and grabs your hand, squeezing it. "But I'm happy you did."<</if>> <<else>>\ "Checl said she'd meet us here, where is she?" "She messages saying she's already inside with a table," Zihr tells you, checking his terminal before closing it. "Let's go." <</if>>\ The place is full, telling you that it's either popular or still pretty new, enough to the point that it's still attracting large enough crowds and hasn't gotten into the phase of establishing its regulars. Bodies are packed, and every two seconds you feel yourself being jostled from one side to another as others try and navigate their way through. In the Dinami, this would be seen as a double-edged sword. On one end, the ease with which you could disappear would make this the ideal spot to murder someone. No one would probably even pay much attention to the victim. But on the other, it was easy to be stabbed yourself; you would never know who or where the attack came from. One of the rare situations where you were entirely susceptible to fate and its intended course. <a data-passage="9.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"This way," Zihr shouts in your ear, steering you a specific way, as well as causing you to remember that you weren't here on a hit. You were here to meet a friend and to drink the night away. Blinking a few times, you follow Zihr to a table, the crowd thinning enough for you to breathe and spot Checl. <<if hasVisited("9.15In")>>\ "$name!" Checl shouts in excitement. "I'm so glad you came. I'm surprised." <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>She stands, holding you close as she kisses your cheek. <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>Zihr's eyes narrow as he looks at the two of you, but he ultimately remains quiet.<</if>><<else>>She moves so that Ne0 can sit beside her while you and Zihr sit across from them.<</if>> <<else>>\ "Glad you all made it!" Checl shouts in excitement, rising to greet the three of you. <<if $checlRoPo >=5>>Your greeting is far more intimate as she brings you close, kissing your cheek. <<if $zihrRoPo >=5>>Zihr's eyes narrow as he looks at the two of you but ultimately remains quiet.<</if>><<else>>Once that's completed, she moves so that Ne0 can sit beside her while you and Zihr sit across from them.<</if>> <</if>>\ "Welcome to Null-G. I've been waiting for this place to open for a while now. What do you guys think?" "Not exactly my scene," you start, shrugging, "but we'll see how good their drinks are." "Agree with $name," Zihr hums. "It feels more like a nightclub than a bar." "Difference?" Ne0 questions. "Nightclubs are for dancing the night away and one-night stands," you inform. "Bars are more low-key. Focused mostly on drinking and socializing." "And lounges are more intimate. Classy," Checl adds, typing something into the table's interface. <a data-passage="9.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And the one in the Outlands? The one Rhys owned?" Zihr questions. "I called it a cantina, but it was closer to a brothel." Checl nods in agreement. "That's for debauchery and nothing but. If you're going to what my people call a hen house, then you're going for sex." "So …" Zihr starts, pointing at Checl. "Were you considered a sex worker then?" "No, just a dancer. Never had sex with anyone," she corrects, clapping as a robot comes over and places down a tray of more than a dozen drinks. "For the most important determiner of how this night will go. How are the drinks? This is their opening night starter tray." Before you is a row of colorful and dull drinks. Some remind you of the cosmos, others of an abyss. "This is a lot," Zihr points out, nervously peering at each as if they have something trapped within. [[Grab the cosmos drink.|9.19]] [[Grab the abyss appearing drink.|9.19]] [[Grab the rainbow-like drink.|9.19]] [[Grab the most normal looking drink.|9.19]]
You grab your chosen drink while Checl grabs a pink-and-yellow slush-like drink that oddly reminds you of a flamingo. Zihr grabs one that looks like typical tequila, and Ne0 grabs one with a metallic sheen. "Ne0, are you sure you can drink these without issue?" you ask, and it gazes from the drink back to you. "To be determined." "Oh, this night is going to be horrible," Zihr mumbles, but you all take a sip of your drink. And it is followed by another round, and another, and then another. One tray becomes two and two becomes four. As the drinks flow, so do the stories, so do the laughs, and so do the moments where you find yourself simply sitting back and taking in the moment. "How are you still sober?" Zihr asks, his words slurring as he buries his face into the crook of his arm. "Reasons," you smirk, your eyes landing on the dotted markings along your arm. You're not entirely sure if they were the reason; it wasn't like you had ever been given a chance to test just how great your tolerance levels were, but you have a sneaking suspicion. "It means we need another round," Checl shouts, pounding her fist against the table. "For science." "Don't pound the table like that!" Zihr whines, "I can hear it in my knees." Ne0 raises another glass and drinks. You're not even sure it cares anymore what it's swallowing. <a data-passage="9.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I love you guys," Checl cries, wrapping her arms around Ne0. "I love my terran. And my," she hiccups. "And my draqe. And my raza." "Wait, why was I said last?" Zihr asks. You sigh as you shift his finger so it's actually pointing at Checl and not Ne0. "Because I love you so much." You're almost worried she's going to start crying, but instead she begins to chirp out a song that is drowned out by the numerous conversations and music of the bar. A fact that you're finding yourself thankful for, drunken zeach screeching just isn't something you want stuck in your head. "More drinks!" Checl screeches, those nearby all cheering along with her. "Ne0," you shout, reaching across the table top stop the draqe. "What are you doing?" "Ordering. Checl demands." "Checl is drunk. No more drinks for her." "Another round," the robot exclaims, placing the tray of drinks down onto the table. "How fast did you put in an order?" you question Ne0. The robot's head mechanically turns toward you. "Along with a message for you." You glance at the napkin that it gestures to and grab it, flipping it over to see a scrawled-out message in Viesean: see you soon<<if $tserRoPo >=2>>, $beautiful.<<else>>.<</if>> <a data-passage="9.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your eyes immediately widen as you scan the sea of faces, finding none of them to match the writer of this note. "Who writes notes anymore?" Zihr questions, taking it, but you doubt he'll be able to read it, especially seeing that he's holding it upside down. None of them should, besides maybe Ne0, who shows no interest. "Writing is still an art," Checl starts, snatching the napkin and dipping her finger in one of the drinks as she starts to … draw? "See, this is an art!" The rest of her sentence fades out as you look for the vetix. You leave the booth behind as you maneuver through the crowd. At one point, you think you see him, but on closer inspection, you find it's just another vetix with similar colors. <<if $tserRoPo >=2>>\ You head outside, glancing around as if expecting to see some fleeting figure. "Tsering?" you shout into the night, sighing at the foolishness. If he didn't want to be seen or found then that was the end of it. Your nails dig into your palm as you turn and head back inside, freezing when a slight chill rides your spine. One last time, you glance over your shoulder, but when nothing changes, you decide to head back inside. Part of you feels disappointed, the part that still finds itself perplexed concerning your feelings on the vetix. You should want nothing more to kill him for all he's done, but something deeper questions if you'll ever be able to do it. <<else>>\ You decide to head back, trying to expel the sudden thoughts from your mind and focus back on the night and those you're with. <</if>>\ "Everything okay?" Checl questions upon you rejoining the table. You nod, raising up one of the drinks that had been delivered. You refuse to let Tsering ruin your night. The two of you will meet, and you'll deal with him then. "How about a toast?" "A what?" Zihr asks. "Burnt bread," Ne0 answers, but Checl only shoos the question and answer away, shoving a drink in his hand. The liquid sloshes over the side, but neither seem to care. "It's a salute," she tells him, though you're not exactly sure that her answer gives him any more insight into what's going on. Her attention shifts to you. "What are we toasting?" [[“The future.”|9.21Future]] [[“To friends.”|9.21Friends]] [[“To a good night.”|9.21GoodNight]] [[“To our next bounty.”|9.21Bounty]]
"To the future, and whatever comes with it." "Don't know what this is," Zihr chuckles, "but I can agree to that." You all clink glasses, an action performed slower than normal due to Zihr still trying to figure out what to do and refusing to not know why. You all drink, the liquid rushing down your throat as you relax, smiling as Checl goes into yet another extravagant story. <<include "9.22">>
"To good company and friends." "Don't know what this is," Zihr chuckles, "but I can agree to that." "To family," Checl adds, a content expression on her face. You all clink glasses, an action performed slower than normal due to Zihr still trying to figure out what to do and refusing to not know why. You all drink, the liquid rushing down your throat as you relax, smiling as Checl goes into yet another extravagant story. <<include "9.22">>
"To a great night," you pause before continuing. "And hopefully, many more." "Don't know what this is," Zihr chuckles, "but I can agree to that." "And I'll make sure we have many more," Checl smiles. You all clink glasses, an action performed slower than normal due to Zihr still trying to figure out what to do and refusing to not know why. You all drink, the liquid rushing down your throat as you relax, smiling as Checl goes into yet another extravagant story. <<include "9.22">>
"To our next bounty. Because I need to get paid, sooner rather than later." "Don't know what this is," Zihr chuckles, "but I can agree to that." You all clink glasses, an action performed slower than normal due to Zihr still trying to figure out what to do and refusing to not know why. You all drink, the liquid rushing down your throat as you relax, smiling as Checl goes into yet another extravagant story. <<include "9.22">>
Relaxing in your seat, you find yourself taking in the scene and all those before you, along with the mood and your own feelings about it all. It's odd; less than a few months ago, you wouldn't have cared to do this. Nor would you have wanted to. You would have been fine staying back at the headquarters, plotting for a future as shrouded as the bottom of some of these glasses. You would have been happy to do so, and probably would have even found it idiotic to waste time with something like this. Now, here you sit, enjoying yourself and the company. You're not sure how much longer you have—a month or two, perhaps just a bit less, depending on what Tsering's play is. But you make up your mind right then and there to enjoy it. Maybe … just maybe, you can do more than just survive. Maybe you can live, and enjoy the company of those who find their lives entwined with your own. Maybe … <a data-passage="Chapter Ten"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_10.png" alt="Chapter Ten" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<audio "invasion" stop>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.40 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <<set $injury_leg to false; $ch_loadout to 1>> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_1.png"> //Present Day,// A series of punches land on your face. One after the other. Quick succession with enough power to tell you that the individual throwing said punches are no longer of the mindset to continue this interrogation. "Stop," another person grumbles, seeming to agree with your voiceless observation. "Calm down. If they black out, we won't get anything from them." Your interrogator looks like they want to argue, flexing their hand as if itching to deposit another jab to your cheek. But in the end, they back off. Gesturing for the previous speaker to take the floor. The pain felt from the last few punches is already starting to wear off, the numbing ability of your regenerative capabilities once again reminding you how lucky you are. A shaph steps up, bearing their own birth marking as well as a bright red and black one that you suppose should tell you what gang you've gotten yourself entangled with. Seeing that you don't usually involve yourself in their activity or idle gossip concerning them, your brain becomes blank regarding their name. That is probably foolish and irresponsible on your part. You've been tailing this gang for at least two weeks, learning everything but their name. At this point, you're pretty sure your ignorance is on purpose. "Do you want this to end?" they ask, leaning forward so that their face is closer to yours. "We'll let you go. Just tell us where our cache is." [[Remain quiet.|1.00Quiet][$silencer +=3]] [[Strike a deal.|1.00Deal][$view +=5; $broker +=3]] [[Attempt to seduce them.|1.00Seduce][$charmer +=3]] [[Talk about your day.|1.00Talk][$evader +=3]] [[Threaten them.|1.00Threat][$attitude -=5; $coercer +=3]] [[Act compliant.|1.00Compliant][$attitude +=5; $shamer +=3]] [[Remind them that you don't know.|1.00Remind][$view -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Silencer ++ | Introvert ++</span><</if>> You say nothing, focused chiefly on your cheek and the chances of a bruise blossoming. If Checl sees you sporting another bruise, you will not be able to get out of hearing whatever outburst she's been storing away for you. The shaph snaps in your face, catching your attention long enough for you to raise an uncaring brow before returning to your thoughts. Yet it hardly has time to reestablish itself as yet another punch lands on your face and another to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Broker ++ | Zealous ++</span><</if>> "Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's a simple fix to all of our problems." The man relaxes, though you doubt such a stance will be taken for long. "You want your cache, I want out of these bindings as well as what's in the cache. So ..." "So?" he asks, bewilderment in his tone, allowing you to check off another box. Nothing but a grunt if he doesn't understand what you're alluding to. He has no idea how to interrogate, as evidenced by his inability to restrain the strength in his punches. That fact is one you're not precisely sure how it will benefit you later, but it is an observation nonetheless. "So, make me a deal." The word is barely out of your mouth before yet another punch lands on your face and another to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Charmer ++ | Zealous ++</span><</if>> "We can always discuss this in private," you point out, not knowing just how well you're pulling off the seductive edge when bruises are blossoming across your features. Some may find such imperfections sexy. "I am far more malleable once I'm loosened up." Whether or not they'll actually take you up on the offer, they at least give you the benefit of being shocked. The shaph glances at the grunt, and he takes that as an invitation to land yet another punch on your face, then a second to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evader ++ | Extrovert ++</span><</if>> "When I woke up today, I was really craving that gooey sandwich down at the bar. You know which one I'm talking about, right?" No one answers, but that hardly stops you, "anyway, I was craving it, and when I headed over there, they told me that the cook wasn't in yet. It's the afternoon, but the cook isn't there. Ridiculous." "What does this have to do with our cache?" the shaph questions, their eyes narrowing. You continue as if you hadn't heard their question. "I figured I could either sit and wait for the cook to come in, which could be who knows when. Or I could leave and start my day, pushing my craving to the-" The words are unable to make it out your mouth as the alien straightens up and moves, allowing the previous man to move in and land yet another punch to your face, and a second to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> "I don't know about your cache but I can assure you that if your little grunt puts his hands on me again, each and every one of you are going to personally-" He moves in to land another punch to your face, and then a second to your gut, seeming to really enjoy that one. You're not exactly sure what you were expecting. Here you are, tied to a chair, deep in their territory, and after having already been hit a multitude of times. No. You know what you envisioned, and you received it. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Shamer ++ | Light ++</span><</if>> "I do," you whimper, preparing to clear your throat and repeat the statement before catching yourself. You assume you sound somewhat sincere due to the fact that you do indeed want out of here. "Then tell me where my cache is," they yell, grabbing the back of your chair and leaning in. There's a fire in their eyes that would otherwise scare you if you hadn't lived through half the events that mark you. You release another mock whimper, even bracing in fear when the shaph abruptly stands and roars in anger. <<include "1.00">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You sigh, your head drooping to the side as you close your eyes and question the sanity of those before you. "For the fifth time-" The words are unable to make it out your mouth as the alien straightens up and moves, allowing the previous man to move in and land yet another punch to your face and a second one to your gut. <<include "1.00">>
"I do not have the patience for this. You tell us, or I'll let Calhoun use his imagination and <<if $scars is "several">>further <</if>>mess up that hybrid face of yours." "Ain't a'boutta be too hard," the terran smirks. "Dere face looks a'plenty fucked up already." You're not sure if your eye twitches but you wouldn't be shocked if it did. Regardless, you need to wipe any kind of reaction away. You've heard it a hundred times before and you'll hear it a hundred more. <<if hasVisited("1.00Quiet")>>You stare at the figure for a moment longer, making sure they're done talking before you go back to your previous thoughts. A cut would be better than a bruise. At least then you can form some kind of lie around it. A bruise tells Checl all she needs to know, no reason to question you.<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Talk")>>"So there I am, walking down the streets in the alley district when someone calls my name. I don't know who they are. If I'm to be honest, half the folks here who seem to know me, well, I don't know them. But I stop. I have nothing better to do than hear them out, especially since I'm just wasting time waiting around for the chef. So, I approach them and -"<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Compliant")>>You shiver in your seat, trying to figure out what you should say next. You never get the chance.<<else>>"Come on," you sigh tiredly, "do I need to say it a sixth-"<</if>> Another round of punches, though not as many as you previously believed, but that's due to the knife now resting against your neck. The cold metal sends an involuntary shiver shooting through your body, furthering the confidence of the man who wields it. "You think I care about offin' you, mutt? I'll remove each of those fuckin' spots on your body and feed 'em to our snappers." You lazily gaze over at the creatures he's referring to. They were one of those creatures who had more than one name, shifting based on who you were speaking to. Snapper isn't wrong, though it's more of a nickname. Many call them <<link 'boaroc'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>>Edit<</dialog>><</link>> due to the high resemblance of the boar-like creature with a crocodile head. The snout is shorter, but the bite pressure is basically the same if you remember correctly. They'd be highly intimidating if it wasn't for the deep v-shape gap in their head that divides their eyes, giving them a permanent absurd look that would make a child wish to befriend it. The man takes your inquisitive stare as one of fear, adding more pressure to the blade to recapture your attention. "So, what's it going to be?" he questions. You mentally sigh, closing your eyes as you try and do away with every rebellious thought you have. You need to sell this, or you'll be sitting here for another hour. [[Act terrified.|1.00Terrified][$mind +=2]] [[Remain stoic but cooperative.|1.00Stoic][$gut +=2]] [[Dare him.|1.00Daring][$heart +=2]]
"Alright," you whimper, your entire body trembling at the thought of death. "I'll tell you." The man pulls back with a smirk, looking over his shoulder at the others. You can imagine that he's boasting with pride residing in his eyes, a smirk forming his lips as he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
"Fine," you growl, stiffening in your seat as you attempt to pull away from the unsheathed blade. "I'll tell you where it is." "I knew your ass was lying," he growls, pressing the blade against your neck before retreating. He turns his back to you, and you can imagine he's currently boasting. Pride residing in his eyes as a smirk forms his lips, and he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
"As far as I've seen," you tell him, leaning just a bit closer, "you're nothing but talk. Do something." The word just barely leaves your mouth as he slaps you. For some odd reason, it stings more than his punches ever did. Following closely behind that is the blade biting into your arm, and you fake a hiss. You've had worse, so much worse, and from the hands of professionals. "Want to keep playing games?" he shouts, a few spatters of spit hitting your cheek as you draw back in disgust, though disguise it as fear. "No. I'll … I'll show you." He straightens up, twisting around as if waiting for his comrades to applaud him. You can imagine the pride residing in his eyes and the smirk shaping his lips as he prepares to remind all that he's the one who broke you. It's cute, and if you weren't playing a part right now, you might have even chuckled. <<include "1.01">>
Two come to your side and begin to untie you from the chair but make sure to rebind your wrists. It seems that even though they seem to think themselves scarier and far more capable than you, they still regard you as a threat. You allow them this liberty, far too concerned with your own portrayal. You never liked trying to play a role. There is always the fear that you're doing too much while simultaneously underplaying it and causing doubt to take root. //Tsering is a better actor.// Your jaw tenses at the thought. The simple truth is that he is. But the problem is that you now have years of memories that call for your attention to determine whether all of them were an act or not. "Hey! Focus up." The shaph snaps in your face. "You can think about what's going to happen to you after you show us what's ours." You have to fight not to raise an eyebrow at his words and instead gulp and nod. With your head down, you head towards where you hid their treasure. "Not so <<if hasVisited("1.00Quiet")>>stoic now, huh?" the man from before asks. Though you believe you understand what he means, you're still highly confused as now, just like before, you're silent. Nothing has changed besides their perception of who has the higher ground.<<elseif hasVisited("1.00Talk")>>funny now, huh?" the man from before asks. You hadn't really thought that your story was a sign of your humor, especially when it did have a purpose regarding them.<<else>>confident now, huh?" the man from before asks. Confidence seems to be an odd word to use here, but correcting him will … well, perhaps show how confident you still are. You rescind such a thought.<</if>> <a data-passage="1.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As soon as you get outside, the sun greets you in its usual harsh manner. You don't know much about this system's sun, just that it's much older than most. Its luminosity and even its size are far more significant. You had always been told not to look directly at the sun, yet here you stand, being able to perfectly stare on and make out some of its colors without issue. It's not that you think everyone has lied to you, but that certain events have caused some worries to become obsolete. A sharp pinch-like feeling in your brain tells you to stop there, lest you wish to battle headaches that are not so easily defeated. "We better be going the right way, mutt," the terran male whispers in your ear. You feel the warmth of a pistol barrel being placed against your head, as he says, "Or I will blow your brains out without a second thought." You simply continue to walk. It'd be foolish to undo all your progress when you're so close to the end. All you need now is for your accomplice to do their part. Though, it's fine if they fail. You have backup plans in place. You always do. "What even the fuck are you?" the man questions, proving to you that he seems to either hate the silence or adore the sound of his own voice. "Some mutated wannabe Primer that got in way over ?his_ head? What are they?" He scratches and attempts to peel one of your markings off as if it's just another sticker that you naively placed against your skin for shits and giggles. It takes all your willpower not to turn and slap the man as he pinches your skin hard enough to leave a mark. "Fucking maniac," he grumbles when he realizes that the $markings markings cannot just be pulled off. "I don't even see your cybernetics anymore. What? You wanted to look like one of those infes?" Inferiors. A common name for Genisers all because they—you—don't partake in the amalgamating of your body with machine. You're not surprised that he instantly believes you one of them, Genisers don't have a heavy presence in space and those that are would not be found here. Guiding them onward, you direct them to turn a corner and, at the far end, spot another group a few yards ahead of you. You know what's about to happen, and before either side can react, you pull back and dodge back out of the alley. Instead of trying to recapture you, your assailants follow your example and take cover. "Fucking scum. This is <<link 'Black Star'>><<dialog 'Codex - Faction'>>Black Star is the largest gang in the Dread Outlands. They have a propensity towards recruiting children and indoctrinating them into their ideals. They mainly deal in slavery, smuggling, and drugs. Though most are petty thugs with no true idea on how to carry themselves or the weapons in their arsenal, few are actually hardened criminals that sought freedom in the Outlands to escape whatever crimes they were facing in the city.<</dialog>><</link>> territory," you hear someone scream before a round of plasma shots is fired. <a data-passage="1.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You fucking liar," your biggest fan shouts, attempting to tackle you, but he has made a critical error. He shouldn't have alerted you. You move out of the way at the last minute and pin him down. Grabbing his viro-blade, you swiftly manuever it under the thick fibers to cut yourself free. With your hands no longer bound, you snap his neck, snatch his pistol, and dart towards the wall of the nearest building and pull yourself to its roof. Once there, you creep to the edge and gaze down at the carnage taking place below. Both sides have begun to take on casualties, but with every fallen member, their conniption grows. A simplistic alley brawl has turned into a battle with bodies scattered about the place and fires laying claim to anything flammable. Neither side really knowing where they're shooting as their blind rage tells them to just never let off the trigger. "I can't believe we pulled that off," a voice behind you admits in astonishment. You give them a second-long glance before placing your attention back on the battle below. "Did you retrieve the cache?" you question, receiving no answer but instead, visual confirmation. Your accomplice hands the container to you, leaving your side so they can view the ongoing battle. "They're going to end up killing each other over this." "Not my problem," you mention, opening the receptacle and retrieving the solars inside. You have the recovered cache and a mental blueprint of the gang's main base. Even better, this gang war will escalate, calling all their members here and leaving said base unmanned. There's only one thing to take care of now. "You're right," the man says, his back still to you and engrossed in the scene. You eye him. He provided invaluable information to ensure that this two-week undertaking was a success, but at the end of the day, he's a loose end. Each solars you get is needed. You already have to split it three ways, not to mention giving a small amount to Prourc due to telling you about the caches in the first place. Giving even half of it away will have you doing additional work to acquire more, and work is not something that comes easy in the Dreads, even in terms of theft. And so, you have a decision that needs to be made. [[Give the man half like he expected.|1.03GiveHalf][$heart +=5; $attitude +=20; $solars +=100]] [[Shoot him.|1.03Shoot][$gut +=5; $attitude -=20; $solars +=200]] [[Let him live, but give him no cut.|1.03GiveNone][$mind +=5; $solars +=200]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Half, half, right?" you ask, fighting to quiet the voice that tells you how idiotic this is. There's enough death going on here. You aren't about to add to it for the sake of adding. "Yea," he says, turning to look at you with a sense of hope in his eyes. "I can get out of here. Maybe go to one of the other Outlands." You raise a brow as you begin the process of sorting the solars, wishing this place didn't rely on physical currency. "Another Outlands? What's the point of that? Go to Taouron." "Taouron requires a passport, ID, and I'd still have to buy a ticket. Going to one of the other two Outlands is easier. Make a new name for myself." You don't say anything as you pass the solars pouch to him. Ultimately, it's his business, and you don't care what he does with his share. Once he has the bag in hand, he counts and then nods at you. He takes one last look over the edge before leaving, and you do the same. There's nothing left here for you, and you should get back to the main base and ransack it before night falls. <<include "1.03.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You really don't like loose ends. They're dangerous. And when allowed to live, they always come back to bite you square in the ass. You should know. Checking to see if the pistol has ammo, you flip off the safety and aim it at his back. Wasting no time, you take the shot, and it buries itself into the spine. You watch as he falls forward and off the side of the building, and with that taken care of, head towards the main base to loot it before another gets the same idea. <<include "1.03.1">>
You can't share the solars; that's more a fact than anything else. But you also don't wish to kill a man whose help had been essential and whose death will serve no purpose. With his attention currently on something else, you use this moment to leave. Finding someone in the Dreads is harder than one may think, so you should be fine. You don't look back as you leave the area behind, heading towards the main base to loot it before another gets the same idea. <<include "1.03.1">>
Upon return, you find no one. Either they heard the commotion and immediately left to see what was happening, or someone called for reinforcements. Either way, you must hurry before they all come streaming back in for whatever reason. Remembering a few of the areas when you had first been dragged in and out, you visit each and take what you can. You can understand why they felt so bold to leave their things lying around. Their base of operations is out of the way, an area you would have never believed them to be, and their chosen building is one of the most derelict-looking ones in the entire Dread Outlands. The inside is no better, but it does cause one to forget that the outside looks the way it does. Exiting the room of someone who has no idea how to hide their precious mementos, you wander down a large hallway that leads toward a door. Opening it, you feel you've been teleported into a horror movie. The short staircase is completely dark with the promise of light at the bottom, but there are oddly colored markings on the wall, and a putrid stench warns you from going any further. That and the sounds of conversation. [[Keep exploring.|1.03.2][$inv_bsdatachip to true]] [[Leave.|1.04]]
Fighting past your disgust, you descend the stairs and find it opening into a large circular room. It's easy to figure out what this area is for, but that doesn't lessen the disgust or horror that it inflicts upon your psyche. Offal has found its home on the floor, while scarlet liquid permanently stains the dark brown floor an odd claret tone, and the smell of someone who has soiled themselves hangs in the air. Continuing on, you find three cells on each side of the walkway, all empty except two. One holds the aftermath of what you can only perceive as a fight with the victor enjoying a meal, and the loser, possessing the unfortunate luck of being that meal. The creature—sentient or unmindful of the moral crimes being practiced—slowly turns and flashes you a row of bloody teeth. "Mind fell," a raspy, low voice says behind you, and you turn to see the only other occupants of the area. Unlike the last scene, this one is far more sensual. Two bodies rest in the corner, tightly pressed together as if questioning the laws of space to see if they can be defied. They stare past you at the carnage, a sanguinary scene that they cruelly must endure. You ponder the idea of whether or not they knew the felled figure, if this was their captor's sick way of punishing them for the act of existing. Both prisoners stare at you with distrust and curiosity in their eyes. You look nothing like their imprisoners, so there's only one reason that distrust would be prevalent. "Slaves," you mumble, already shifting forward to look at the gate's lock. "Either of you know where the keys may be?" "No," the skeleton-like alien says, unintentionally introducing themselves as the previous speaker. As if on cue, a notification alert pops up, hampering some of your visibility. <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip">\ <span class ="chip">Species: <<link 'Bhela'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/bhela.png" align="right" width="30%"> Origins: Inveron, Cyule The bhela (be-la) is a sentient, bipedal mammalian species hailing from the Cyule solar system, originating from the planet Inveron. Due to their unique bone structure and need for darkness, they are not as widespread as other species at the same technological level. The species themselves are highly social and typically live in the cave systems of their planet and on planets farther from the sun, in darkness. The species has an uncanny resemblance to terrans with familiar body proportions. The main difference between the two is that the bhela have hollow bones, allowing them greater mobility and endurance but rendering them far weaker, nearly fragile. As a result, many bhela work in extremely low-risk jobs, though a few have been known to push themselves and pursue careers such as dancing. Most options are cut off by employers who would much rather not have to deal with a figure who could potentially snap their bodies in two. Appearance-wise, they resemble skeletons with thin, sunken, pale skin and dark circles around the eyes. They have no pupils, and their eyes look similar to those with cataracts. Their noses are inverted, pushed further into their faces, rendering their smell borderline rubbish. Mostly, they rely on eyesight, but it is only helpful in the darkness. The species shows no dimorphism, with all bhela resembling one another. They are not an individualistic people; instead, they show allegiances based on their colonies. These allegiances are shown through a variety of markings that they paint on their heads and bodies.<</dialog>><</link>></span> You swipe the information away, annoyed before placing attention back on the bhela. <<else>>\ Origins: Inveron, Cyule The bhela (be-la) is a sentient, bipedal mammalian species hailing from the Cyule solar system, originating from the planet Inveron. Due to their unique bone structure and need for darkness, they are not as widespread as other species at the same technological level. The species themselves are highly social and typically live in the cave systems of their planet and on planets farther from the sun, in darkness. The species has an uncanny resemblance to terrans with familiar body proportions. The main difference between the two is that the bhela have hollow bones, allowing them greater mobility and endurance but rendering them far weaker, nearly fragile. As a result, many bhela work in extremely low-risk jobs, though a few have been known to push themselves and pursue careers such as dancing. Most options are cut off by employers who would much rather not have to deal with a figure who could potentially snap their bodies in two. You swipe the information away, annoyed before placing attention back on the bhela. <</if>>\ They raise an arm and point towards the way you came in. "Maybe." You leave to check the walls, disgusted by the numerous holes and knowing the keys are probably hidden somewhere inside one. Most of the holes aren't deep enough but are still filled with a pus-like substance with an olid scent being dispersed when upset. <a data-passage="1.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<set $solars += 150>><</nobr>>\ After vomiting once and wishing to just quit, you finally find the keys and fish them out. You'll stop by some kind of water source before heading to Checl; otherwise, you'll never get rid of this smell. Returning, you release the two figures and help carry out the second one, a raza. The third continues to eat, caring nothing for you or the now released prisoners. "How long have you been in there?" you ask, but the bhela remains quiet, though you're pretty sure it's due to weakness and not rudeness. They stop you, weakly taking the raza from you. "Go alone." It lifts a trembling finger back in the direction of their cell. "Important remains." You watch for a moment as they slink up the stairs and out of view. You freed them; it's no longer your concern what happens. Curiosity plagues you as head back in, giving the cell a look over, frowning when all you find inside are scraps of clothing and excrement. "Important remains," you murmur to yourself, using the tip of your boot to kick away some rubble; nothing lies beneath. You grimace, your gaze shifting to the mess in the corner. You could be wrong about the meaning of the bhela's words. Horribly wrong. Or … [[Check the … remains.|1.04CheckRemains][$inv_bsdatachip to true]] [[Leave.|1.04Leave]]
"I swear," you grumble as you hold your breath, attempting to keep the bile inside as you use your boot to move the bulk of waste away, careful to not apply to much pressure in case something 'important' does lie within. Searching the second pile yields results that leave you both relieved and repulsed as you use part of a torn cloth to grab your findings. Doing your best to wipe it clean but knowing you will have to do more later, you determine it to be a datachip. It may hold some valuable information or it may not, you choose to believe it does since the bhela or raza sought to protect it by swallowing it. Wrapping it up for now, you place it in a spare pocket and go, done with excitement for the day as you bring your looting to a close just as the sun starts to set. You're sure you haven't looked through everything the gang's headquarters has to offer, but you at least gotten everything you set out to grab. Just in time to go by and pick Checl up too, you actually made great time. Stretching, you reach into your pocket … [[… and bring out a cigarette.|1.05][$idle to "cig"]] [[… and grab a piece of candy.|1.05][$idle to "candy"]] [[… and grab a toothpick.|1.05][$idle to "pick"]] [[… and start walking.|1.05][$idle to "na"]]
There is not one single part of you that wants or cares to figure out the puzzle the bhela left you. You came for solars and got that. With your mind made up, you bring your looting to a close just as the sun starts to set. You're sure you haven't looked through everything the gang's headquarters has to offer, but you at least gotten everything you set out to grab. Just in time to go by and pick Checl up too, you actually made great time. Stretching, you reach into your pocket … [[… and bring out a cigarette.|1.05][$idle to "cig"]] [[… and grab a piece of candy.|1.05][$idle to "candy"]] [[… and grab a toothpick.|1.05][$idle to "pick"]] [[… and start walking.|1.05]]
<<if $idle is "cig">>\ ... and bring out a cigarette. You easily recall all the warnings given back on Genesis about these sticks. Cancer sticks, is what so many adults called them. You remember in school how they would show documentaries of people with holes in their throats, cancer, and cataracts. All to dissuade you and your classmates from ever picking one of the tobacco sticks up. You didn't want to say they failed, but innovation and ... and whatever the Baron did to you has made the cigarette effect on you null and void. Imagine receiving all of the positive effects of nicotine but none of the ugly truths. A dream come true for most, you're sure. Wherever you go, it goes. The slightest hint of panic or anxiety has you reaching for it, though you have now gotten into the habit of grabbing it out of boredom. You cut it on, wait a few seconds, and then take your first puff. Inhaling, you're reminded of the residual pain existing in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ ... and you grab the first piece of candy that your hand touches. You unwrap it and plop it into your mouth, relishing the fruity combo that erupts in your mouth. You're not entirely sure where the habit originated from. One day, you just found yourself eating candy to soothe your nerves and redirect your thoughts. A mannerism that feels more like a lifeline nowadays. You typically choose hard candy, anything that lasts longer than a minute. Gum—especially the kind they make out here—is also a go-to. You shift your jaw around to rearrange the candy and find yourself reminded of the residual pain existing in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ ... and grab a toothpick. Honestly, you're unsure when or how you picked up the habit. Your best idea is that you had come across some and, out of indifference, grabbed them. It's not like they are cheap or easy to come by. Only terran establishments carry them, and buildings like that don't precisely rest on the corner of every street. You've learned to make them last, which is worthy of astonishment alone. In the past, you misplaced them, broke them, or simply placed them in the wrong pocket. You've rectified the behavior and, since then, have found that it helps get your mind off other, less appealing things. You place it in your mouth, shifting it from side to side and thus reminding yourself of the residual pain in your cheek. Those bruises aren't about to vanish anytime soon, meaning you'll just have to suffer whatever Checl decides to do or say. <<else>>\ ... and start walking towards the bar. Your cheek still holds some residual pain from your interrogation, and pain or not, the bruises that decorate the side of your face aren't about to vanish. You'll just have to suffer through whatever Checl decides to do or say. <</if>>\ The sounds of fighting are farther now but still audible. And as you enter the canteen, you realize how fast word travels. None of it concerns you, just that the war that has been brewing for so long has finally started. Fear resides on everyone's face, and you can bet half the new faces you're seeing are hoping to find some kind of asylum from the terror outside. The bar is in neutral territory, but you doubt that will matter much. Your butt barely graces the seat when the terran bartender shakes her head, snapping as she approaches. "Up and out." "Come on, Riq. I just need to know if Checl is done." "No, no, and no," she growls. "I'm not in the mood for your nonsense today. I finally cleaned the bar up and haven't had issues all day. And with tensions as high as they are, I don't need you coming in and dragging whatever problems you have with you." "And I won't. You'll get no problems from me." Her eyes narrow as they land on the bruised side of your face. "Yea. I totally believe you. Let me remind you that's the same thing you said last time." [[“They hit me first.”|1.05HitMeFirst][$approach -=3]] [[“I took that conflict outside.”|1.05ConflictOutside][$humor +=5]] [[“I did warn them.”|1.05WarnThem][$approach +=3]] [[“Well, what can you do?”|1.05WhatCanYouDo][$humor -=5]] [[“Look, I'm sorry.”|1.05Sorry][$attitude +=5]] [[“Oh, fuck you.”|1.05FuckYaHoe][$attitude -=5]] [[Shrug it off.|1.05ShrugItOff][$emotion -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "And I didn't start it last time. They did. What? You expect me not to finish it?" "I didn't expect anything. But you know the rules. All conflicts are to be handled outside. Away from the bar." "Why are you telling //me// this? Again, they hit me first." You're unsure what she wants to hear from you, as well as the extent she wishes to push it. Riq knows how to hold a grudge. Thankfully, you do more good concerning this bar than bad. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "What are you talking about? I did handle that argument outside." She leans forward as if to deliver some sort of secret. Her eyes narrow. "Because you blew a hole in the side of the damn building." "So now it's my fault that the structural integrity of your building is lacking?" You point at the same hole that currently has a 'construction zone' sign over it. "You should be thanking me. I helped this place with expansion." "Oh, is that what you think you did?" You wave her words away. "What do you want me to say? Sorry? Fine, I'm sorry." It takes everything to keep yourself from adding more to that apology, but you don't feel like prolonging this conversation and leave it at that. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> "Why are you mad at me when I warned them to leave me alone? It's not my fault they're hard of hearing." "You still didn't need to retaliate the way you did." "Riq, I wasn't going to just sit there and let them do and say whatever their creative minds thought up. Instead, how about you vet who comes in here better?" <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "Well," you start with a shrug, acting as if you're looking over the menu when you already know it by heart. "What can you do?" "What kind of question is that? You can choose to not fight people or at least follow the rules." "True. That is one of the things an individual can do. Or they can choose to fight and not listen to the rules. Both are possibilities." <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Okay, Riq," you raise your hands in surrender, hoping the action will calm her down further. "I'm sorry about that. As I said, you won't receive any problem from me as long as I can help it." She raises a brow, "as long as you can help it?" "I can't control other people," you sigh, wishing this conversation would come to an end already. You're not exactly sure what she expects you to say. <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> "Oh, fuck you." "No," she growls, tossing the rag to the side, leaning in, and pointing an accusing finger at you. "Fuck you, Moran." "I didn't start that fight. You know that." "I don't care. You didn't actually try and de-escalate the situation either." "How was I supposed to de-escalate something that was already fully escalated?" you question, attempting to find a semblance of care. "If they hadn't messed with me, everything would be fine. Maybe make sure I'm not messed with, and everything will remain fine." <<include "1.06">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Detached ++</span><</if>> You shrug your shoulders, about to add a little eye roll, when Riq snaps at you irritably. "Don't shrug your shoulders at me. You're not the one who has to pay for the bullshit you do. Everyone else does." "Did you give this same talk to those who started it?" "They're not my focus. The terran who keeps coming in here is." There is very little you can—or want—to say right now, and so you just nod, hoping that Riq will let this go. <<include "1.06">>
She sighs, pinching and massaging the skin on her forehead before nodding. "Just don't do anything today." Seeing that you have already had a full day, you are more than happy to oblige. "I'm just here to walk Checl home like always. Speaking of, you never answered me, is she done?" "She's finishing up last I checked." Riq pours you a drink and places a cup of ice beside it. Though she gives a warning glare, she seems content with letting the past stay where it is. That and you believe she has a soft spot for you. She's just a grumpy terran hardened by Crion's sun. She's also one of the only Genisers you've met outside of trarkran circles. She's never said much about her past and so you've no idea if she ended up all the way out here like most Genisers or if she somehow found another way. You've never cared to ask either. She respects your silence about your past and you've done the same. <<if $idle is "cig">>Taking one last puff, you cut the cigarette off and place it back in your pocket. A free drink is a free drink and you're not willing to let it go to waste. While the cup of ice will surely be helpful for a bruise you don't care much about.<<elseif $idle is "pick">>You take out the toothpick and in your free hand, graciously accept the drink, while placing the glass of ice against your temple.<<else>>Not willing to let a free drink go to waste, you graciously accept, placing the glass of ice against your temple.<</if>> <a data-passage="1.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $inv_bsdatachip>>\ <<if $tech >=10>>\ "By the way, Riq, do you have an external terminal or a device that can read datachips?" "Maybe. Why?" "What do I have to say to get you to let me see it?" "Why do you need it?" "I don't know yet." You fish out the chip, using a piece of ice cube to clean the rest of the filth away, then show her. "This may or may not hold something important on it." She looks like she wants to ask another question, her nose wrinkling in disgust. But instead, she pauses and shakes her head. "No, I don't want to know." Ducking, she returns a few seconds later and places an external terminal in front of you. You boot it up and begin to work, inserting the chip and hoping that the encryption on it is entry-level or non-existent. <<else>>\ "By the way, Riq, do you know anyone who can possibly hack and extract data off a chip?" She snorts. "No. Why?" "Found one and I can't do it either." You tap the metal countertop incessantly, as if the rhythm will give you an idea. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ "If it isn't my favorite terran," a sultry voice coos behind you. Riq snorts, not even bothering to hide her hurt from the comment as she turns to wipe down some glasses. You turn to face the zeach whose name you can't remember. She's familiar, at least, with long teal, blue, and green feathers mixed in with a few white and gray ones resting against cedar-toned skin. <span class="chip">>Species: <<link 'Zeach'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/zeach.png" align="right" width="30%">The zeach are a sentient, bipedal avian race that once held the ability to glide but has since lost such a function. They originate from the planet Dichi, but after surrendering to the vetix, can now be found largely on Cheria. The zeach have slender frames and stand anywhere between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches), though head feathers may add a few more inches. They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three, thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along the side of their face. These ears are extremely sensitive and help regulate the species temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to an all vegetation diet. The most notable feature on a zeach are their head feathers. Feathers can be found on both the species head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes with their sclera being either white or gold and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Unlike most species, the zeach have no kind of natural armor, a fact that may be due to the lack of predators on their home planet. They have a faster metabolism than many and their bodies are made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones can range from gold and browns to black and white and grey, and though not common, red. Along with obvious genitals, one can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted colors of brown, black, white, and grey. While the female sex possess longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.<</dialog>><</link>> Origins: Dichi, Aellete System Bipedal avian creatures, the zeach have slender, non-muscular frames and stand between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches). They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded, while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along their face. These ears are susceptible and help regulate the species' temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to a vegetarian diet. The most notable feature of a zeach is their head feathers. Feathers can be found on the species' head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes, their sclera being either white or gold, and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Zeaches possess a fast metabolism; their bodies made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones range from gold, brown, black, white, gray, and though not common, red. An individual can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted brown, black, white, and gray colors. While the female sex possesses longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.</span> "Oh, for fucks sake," you growl, swiping at the air to do away with the notification. <span class= "chip">>If you wish to stop receiving Codex Notifications in this form, then go to "Settings." There you will find other notification settings for your convenience as well. All codex entries will be sent directly to the [[Compendium]] for further viewing. It holds information on factions, species, locations, language, etc.</span> Information you already know and thought you corrected. Thanks to your one-way trip down to solid ground—courtesy of Tsering—your abacus has been doing everything it can to remind you that it didn't come out unscathed. It took at least three cybernetic doctors to repair it, far too many solars, and enough patience to rectify your belief of no longer having any. And yet, that still doesn't account for the absent mods, a factor you believe is due to Tsering and whoever he was working with. You almost feel it wiser to simply get a new one implanted, but that would mean getting a Class C chip instead of your current level, S. And trying to get a military grade chip off the black market is both expensive, rare, and chancy. You're better off with your sometimes faulty chip. <a data-passage="1.07.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You look like you could use the company," the zeach from earlier points out, reminding you of her presence. "You say that to everyone, Kahtea. Go find another customer to hassle." She ignores Riq, still looking upon you with a flirtatious gleam in her eyes and waiting for some kind of answer. You motion for Riq to refill your glass and quit whatever you're trying to accomplish with the ice. <<if $inv_bsdatachip>>\ <<if $tech >=10>>\ A distraction may be nice, but you were already in the middle of something. Glancing over at the screen, the loading bar is still going, preparing the chip and all its contents. If it's encrypted, you should be able to break through without any issues unless the gang decided upon some advanced firewall. <<else>>\ A distraction may be nice, but if you want to find someone who may be able to open up this chip, then it will be just that, a distraction. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ //The next few choices will determine your orientation and sexual and romantic attraction. Some choices may cut you off from certain romances (e.g. Commander Sin can only be romanced by an asexual Moran). For more information on romance and the individual characters see the [[Relations|Sidebar_Relations]] page. If you choose to accept the offer, a few things such as orientation (you will not be solely interested in men or nonbinary/gender-fluid characters) and sexual attraction (you will not be averse to sex) will already be determined.// [[Take her up on the offer.|1.07Accept][$s_att to "present"; $solars -=50]] [[Reject her.|1.07Reject]]
You stare straight ahead, thinking her offer over before shrugging your shoulders and throwing the drink back as if a shot. After all the things you did today, a quick distraction would be nice, and it'll give you something to do while you wait for Checl to finish up. "Sure. Why the fuck not?" Riq grumbles about something as the zeach's eyes light up with excitement. <<if $inv_bsdatachip>>You transfer the solars while re-pocketing the datachip, probably to be forgotten.<<else>>You transfer the solars, and the zeach nods her thanks.<</if>> "Come," she whispers in a seductive manner as she grabs your hand and leads you to what you suppose is one of their backrooms. You pass tables full of drunken patrons, gamblers betting solars they don't have, and zeaches similar to Kahtea hoping to earn some money for the night. Traveling further to the back, you get a brief glimpse of some who had the same idea as you. Curtains not fully drawn allow you to spy upon actions no longer thought to be as intimate between two figures. The man and woman within catch your gaze but don't seem to mind the temporary attention. [[Your eyes drift to just the woman.|1.07Accept2][$int to "women"]] [[You gaze at both of them.|1.07Accept2][$int to "all"]]
Walking into a free room, you do a quick and cautionary glance around. Nothing strange, and nearly identical to the others besides a few fabric color differences. All the accents are shades of blue that aren't precisely the same as Kahtea's feathers but close enough for you to make the connection. "Each of you have your own room?" you question Kahtea as she begins to strip, slowly sliding her loose dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. "Only for us nest warmers," she answers, approaching you with confidence in her gait. Her hips tempt you to speed all of this up. "The show-birds don't receive half of what we do." She places her hands on your shoulders, gently massaging the skin as she hums lightly. "Just relax and let me see to all your needs." Backing up so that she's now in front of you, she takes your hand and pushes you backward until you fall onto the bed. Once there, she begins to kiss along your neck, softly nibbling the flesh before working her way back to your jaw. <<if $beard is "medium" or $beard is "long">>\ She giggles, drawing back as she twirls a part of your beard along her finger, "that's a new sensation. It tickles." "You don't deal with a lot of aliens with beards, do you?" "I don't deal with a lot of aliens with hair," she points out. "You and the raza are the only ones I can think of. And between you and me." She presses herself up against you, sitting so that her heat slides against your leg. "I like terrans more." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="1.07Accept3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You move back enough to look into her eyes. "You mind speeding this up a bit? I have a zeach that'll be waiting for me soon." It can either be your mentioning of Checl or just asking her to quicken her pace, which causes her seductive smile to flicker into a scowl. Either way, you won't be repeating yourself. And it seems like there's no need. She moves so that only you are sitting on the bed, and she is now resting between your legs. "Mind helping me out?" she inquires, attempting to keep her voice cheerful, but you can hear the slight attitude that has poisoned her mood. You remove your pants, and before you can even set them down, Kathea is on you. <<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ She flicks her tongue against your tip, licking the underside before wrapping her tongue around your hardening member and pulling a moan past your lips before you can still yourself. The sound seems to encourage her to quicken her pace, delicately grabbing onto your dick as she licks down your shaft before taking more of you into her mouth. Tilting your hips upwards, you slide further past her accepting lips and fight the urge to grab onto her and mouth fuck her. You're not sure what it is about zeach's mouths, but they work magic. Case in point as Kathea's mandible-like lips repeatedly squeeze against your member. Just enough to not be too rough but harsh enough to push you over the edge. You relax, allowing your head to hang to the side as you allow yourself to get lost in the sensations. <<else>>\ At first, she is slow. Her tongue pushes past your lips and towards your heat as if she's lost and unsure how she should proceed. But it lasts only a short while before she picks up her pace and, using her fingers to separate them, delves deeper inside. You let your head hang back as you let out a low moan, fighting the urge to push yourself closer to her and grind against that terrific mouth of hers. She clings to your thighs as her tongue continues to undo you, flicking your clit teasingly before going back to your slit, lapping up any of the juices she can find before performing a light suck. You lie back and close your eyes, letting the sensations take your mind off everything that happened that day. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You hardly have to give her any direction as she takes the incentive and begins to pleasure you. The past few days and, ultimately, the past hour or so, drift away and clear your mind, letting the sensations of here and now take your mind off everything. <</if>>\ And just as quickly as it starts, it finishes. In moments like this, there's no such thing as foreplay or prep, not unless you want to pay an upcharge. It serves its purpose, but you're not sure if you could always deal with something like this. [[Probably not. Feelings get put on the line and everything goes to hell. (You feel romantic attraction.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "yes"]] [[Depends on you mostly. You can keep your feelings in check for the most part. (Your romantic attraction fluctuates.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "meh"]] [[Probably. Feelings and romance are of no consequence. (You do not feel romantic attraction.)|1.07Accept4][$r_att is "no"]]
She relaxes on the pillows, stretching as she looks at you with a content look in her eye. "I hope that was serviceable. Fitting your ... terran tastes." You roll your eyes as you pull up your pants and straighten your clothes. When she pronounces terran that way, you gain an overwhelming need to introduce her top mandible to her bottom. You head to the only mirror in the alcove to look yourself over, grimacing at the bruise that has already sped past the stage of being red and has now blossomed into the purple and blue stage of its life cycle. Rapid healing has its downfalls—namely—dealing with your appearance. A day or so worth of healing happens in minutes or hours, and scars never truly heal the right way, so they keep a hint of red instead of fading back to your skin tone. Satisfied, you move the curtain aside and leave the den behind. "You're welcome," Kahtea shouts after you. Approaching the bar, you find Riq and Checl standing there. "There goes your terran." Checl turns, her eyes widening and then narrowing as her feathers stand on end. She whips back around to face the bar but then sighs, and by the time you are beside her, she seems to have relaxed the tension in her shoulders. "Let me see," she grumbles, carefully grabbing your chin to examine the bruise. "Did Kahtea do this?" You raise a brow and Riq snorts. "You know damn well that zeach is too skittish for something like that. You also know that your friend here gets into all sorts of trouble." "What happened?" she asks you. <<include "1.08">>
"Sorry, not interested." Riq's eyes light up, though you're sure it's more to do with how Kahtea will respond than being happy that you won't be doing any fornicating with the zeach tonight. "Am I not to your terran-hybrid standards?" she questions, making a low chittering sound that you've heard far too many times from Checl. You throw the drink back as if a shot, wishing this conversation would end. [[“No, I’m just not interested. Period.” (Eliminates Romance Entirely)|1.07NoRomance][$int to "none"]] [[“Not really a sexual creature.” (Sex Negative Choice)|1.07SexNeg][$s_att to "none"]] [[“Can I just not be interested?” (Sex Positive Choice)|1.07SexPos][$s_att to "present"]] <<if $inv_bsdatachip>>[[“I’m working.”|1.07Working]]<</if>> [[Ignore her.|1.07Ignore]]
<<if $inv_bsdatachip>>\ <<if $tech >=10>>\ "No," you tell her, "I'm just not interested. Period. Doesn't matter who they are or what they are. Sorry, sweetheart." You clear your throat, thankful that Riq has already refilled your glass and even more thankful when the zeach walks off. The terminal lets out a short chime to tell you that the datachip is available to peruse. Whoever owned the chip before had no fears of another getting it, nothing is encrypted. Moronic, but you have no intention of questioning a gift of this magnitude. Examining the files is a trite venture, filled with more scrolling than anything until your brain decides to actually function. You are ... were, Dinami. You helped create files that behaved much the same way, though far more comprehensive and with actual encryptions that needed advanced hacking packages to get through without damaging the logs. You stop looking at this like some rookie and begin peering at the file names in a new light. Some of them do not change functions, still carrying little interest, but most of them become far more. Pieces to a far greater puzzle that causes your brain to flutter at the prospect of solving. You bring up your own terminal, sending a premade package to Riq's to run a program to further sort through the information available on the chip. It shouldn't take too long. <a data-passage="1.07IgnoreNoRomance"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "No," you tell her, "I'm just not interested. Period. Doesn't matter who they are or what they are. Sorry, but hey, if you know someone good with tech, I'd love to meet them." "Lahka," she says, not even pausing to think it through. Riq huffs behind you, muttering an apology for not thinking about her sooner. "She's probably in her booth." Kahtea sneers as she leans in. "You'll have to disturb her if you really want her help." "Or," Riq starts, pulling up her terminal, "I just buzz her over." She presses a button and then gives Kahtea a wink, one that the zeach ignores as she turns and walks away. "Thanks," you tell the terran, spotting another zeach approaching at a languorous pace. Like all the others, she's soft on the eyes and possesses a slender frame with no real curves in sight. Her skin is a medium brown, which does wonders to pull attention to her light blue, scarlet, and light yellow feathers. You also notice that part of her left ear is cut, a deep gash that may be the reason why every few seconds, her ear twitches as if something is touching it. All too late do realize that she's entirely naked, wearing only a thin veil around her shoulders. You avert your eyes, though you suppose none of the zeaches here care much for modesty. They were used to this, it was you who was making a big deal about it. "Yes?" she asks, her voice low and almost at a seductive rumble that you're not entirely sure she can help. "My friend here needs your help. I'll run some drinks to your client so they don't get bored." "Put something in there that'll make her fall asleep, and you won't ever hear me complain." "Too touchy?" "Boring is more like it," she sighs, turning her gaze to you. "Yes?" "I heard you're good with tech." You turn the terminal to face her. "I need help cracking into this chip if possible." "Easy. Give me a bit of time." She takes a seat and Riq passes her a drink. You don't want to just stare at her so you place your attention elsewhere, thinking about all the things that the chip may hold. <a data-passage="1.07IgnoreNoRomance"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "No," you tell her, "I'm just not interested. Period. Doesn't matter who they are or what they are. Sorry, sweetheart." You clear your throat, thankful that Riq has already refilled your glass and even more thankful when the zeach walks off. "Here comes your zeach," Riq warns and before you can even turn your head enough to spot her, she's there and cradling your cheek. "What happened?" <<include "1.08">> <</if>>\
<<if $inv_bsdatachip>>\ <<if $tech >=10>>\ "No," you sigh, attempting to come up with the words, "I'm just not a sexual creature. It doesn't interest me in the slightest. You'll probably get farther with the counter top." Riq snorts, pouring you another, and you accept it. This'll be your last one. "Cute," Kahtea finally says, twisting on her heel and walking away, already having scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. The terminal lets out a short chime to tell you that the datachip is available to peruse. Whoever owned the chip before had no fears of another getting it, nothing is encrypted. Moronic, but you have no intention of questioning a gift of this magnitude. Examining the files is a trite venture, filled with more scrolling than anything until your brain decides to actually function. You are ... were, Dinami. You helped create files that behaved much the same way, though far more comprehensive and with actual encryptions that needed advanced hacking packages to get through without damaging the logs. You stop looking at this like some rookie and begin peering at the file names in a new light. Some of them do not change functions, still carrying little interest, but most of them become far more. Pieces to a far greater puzzle that causes your brain to flutter at the prospect of solving. You bring up your own terminal, sending a premade package to Riq's to run a program to further sort through the information available on the chip. It shouldn't take too long. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" Riq questions, at least giving you something to do while you wait. "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." The words end up making you think about how you feel about romantic attraction ... <<else>>\ "No," you sigh, attempting to come up with the words, "I'm just not a sexual creature. It doesn't interest me in the slightest. You'll probably get farther with the counter top." Riq snorts, pouring you another, and you accept it. This'll be your last one. "But hey, if you know someone good with tech, I'd love to meet them." "Lahka," she says, not even pausing to think it through. Riq huffs behind you, muttering an apology for not thinking about her sooner. "She's probably in her booth." Kahtea sneers as she leans in. "You'll have to disturb her if you really want her help." "Or," Riq starts, pulling up her terminal, "I just buzz her over." She presses a button and then gives Kahtea a wink, one that the zeach ignores as she turns and walks away. "Thanks," you tell the terran, spotting another zeach approaching at a languorous pace. Like all the others, she's soft on the eyes and possesses a slender frame with no real curves in sight. Her skin is a medium brown, which does wonders to pull attention to her light blue, scarlet, and light yellow feathers. You also notice that part of her left ear is cut, a deep gash that may be the reason why every few seconds, her ear twitches as if something is touching it. All too late do realize that she's entirely naked, wearing only a thin veil around her shoulders. You avert your eyes, though you suppose none of the zeaches here care much for modesty. They were used to this, it was you who was making a big deal about it. "Yes?" she asks, her voice low and almost at a seductive rumble that you're not entirely sure she can help. "My friend here needs your help. I'll run some drinks to your client so they don't get bored." "Put something in there that'll make her fall asleep, and you won't ever hear me complain." "Too touchy?" "Boring is more like it," she sighs, turning her gaze to you. "Yes?" "I heard you're good with tech." You turn the terminal to face her. "I need help cracking into this chip if possible." "Easy. Give me a bit of time." She takes a seat and Riq passes her a drink, her attention then turning to you. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." The words end up making you think about how you feel about romantic attraction ... <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "No," you sigh, attempting to come up with the words, "I'm just not a sexual creature. It doesn't interest me in the slightest. You'll probably get farther with the counter top." Riq snorts, pouring you another, and you accept it. This'll be your last one. "Cute," Kahtea finally says, twisting on her heel and walking away, already having scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." The words end up making you think about how you feel about romantic attraction ... <</if>>\ [[Same thing. Doesn't exist.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "no"]] [[It fluctuates.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You feel that one.|1.07SexNeg2][$r_att to "yes"]]
"How does that work?" she questions, narrowing her brow in confusion. You share her confusion. She acts as if your practice is alien when you can say the same for anyone who acts purely on their sexual whims. [[“I still like men.”|1.07.2][$int to "men"]] [[“I still like women.”|1.07.2][$int to "women"]] [[“I still like non-binary and genderfluid people.”|1.07.2][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[“I still date people.”|1.07.2][$int to "all"]]
<<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ You open your mouth to answer but someone beats you to it. "It works just like you having sex with someone works. You do it. $name just doesn't, so stop looking at them like that Riq." You gaze over at the speaker and see Checl slowly approaching, her eyes dashing from you to the zeach beside you, Layla. Lashka. Lashi ... "Hi Checl." "Hello, Lahka. What are you doing?" Ah ... close enough. Though the question sounds like it was meant for her coworker, she's staring at you, a hint of something else in her eyes. "Your friend here asked for my help with their terminal." "Oh, is that all?" "What else would I need from Lahka?" you question, smirking as everyone seems to have an opinion on that. Lahka looks you up and down as if deciding on whether or not solars would be enough for her to accept you in her booth. Riq is once again informing the knowing world that she has a thing for zeaches. And Checl simply seems to want to pout. <<else>>\ You open your mouth to answer but someone beats you to it. "It works just like you having sex with someone works. You do it. $name just doesn't, so stop looking at them like that Riq." You gaze over at the speaker. "Hi, Checl." "Don't casually greet me." She shifts the bag in her hands over so that she can touch and examine your face, "what happened?" <</if>>\ <<include "1.08">>
"Can I just not be interested in you taking me to some dark corner to ravage me?" you ask, smirking as she frowns. Riq at least seems to find you amusing, pouring you another drink as she chuckles. You thank her but let it be known that this will be your last. The last thing you need is a buzz. The topic concerning your sexual prowess has got you thinking about how you feel about the romance side of things though. [[That one doesn't exist.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "no"]] [[It fluctuates.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You have that one too.|1.07SexPos2][$r_att to "yes"]]
"I'm just not your type, then? Too much woman for you to handle." This woman is insufferable, and with a sigh and a mere glance, you answer. [[“Actually, you're right.” (Men Only Choice)|1.07SexPosMen][$int to "men"]] [[“Not enough woman is more like it.” (Women Only Choice)|1.07SexPosWomen][$int to "women"]] [[“Just a bit.” (Non-Binary Only Choice)|1.07SexPosNB][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[“I can handle a lot, trust me.” (All Choice)|1.07SexPosAll][$int to "all"]]
<<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ "Actually, you're right. A woman's body may bring some to their knees, but I'm not one of them. It's like a superpower. But hey, if you know someone good with tech, I may just change my opinion." <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ "Actually, you're right. A woman's body may bring some to their knees, but I'm not one of them. It's like a superpower." While you snort, she scoffs, walking away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech >=10>>\ <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ <<include "1.07.3">> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
<<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ You look her up and down slowly, unable to contain the laugh that begs to be released. "I'm actually used to dealing with a lot more woman. You fit a bill, just not mine. But hey, if you know something about tech or someone who does, maybe I'll reconsider." <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ You look her up and down slowly, unable to contain the laugh that begs to be released. "I'm actually used to dealing with a lot more woman. You fit a bill, just not mine." If it's possible for her scowl to grow any deeper, it just did. Zeach scowls—or at least the word you have chosen to assign to the expression—tickle you, a slightly ajar and quivering mandible that accompanies ruffled feathers. The action is more body language than something restricted to the face. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech >=10>>\ <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ <<include "1.07.3">> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
<<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ You almost snort into your glass. "Yea, just a bit." She smiles, her three ears all fluttering as if you had just given her the most precious compliment ever. You almost wish to knock the smile off of her face with the reason why but you decide against it, let her have her simplistic victory. "By the way, know anyone any good at handling tech?" <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ You almost snort into your glass. "Yea, just a bit." She smiles, her three ears all fluttering as if you had just given her the most precious compliment ever. You almost wish to knock the smile off of her face with the reason why but you decide against it, let her have her simplistic victory. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech >=10>>\ <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ <<include "1.07.3">> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
<<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ "Oh, you would be amazed at all that I can handle. Whether separate or all at once." You focus on your drink. "By the way, know anyone any good at handling tech?" <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ "Oh, you would be amazed at all that I can handle. Whether separate or all at once." You focus on your drink. "You're lightweight compared." If it's possible for her scowl to grow any deeper, it just did. She walks away, having already scouted out her next victim, if that is a suitable word. <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech >=10>>\ <<include "1.07SexPosChip">> <<else>>\ <<include "1.07.3">> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
<<if $tech >=10>>\ The terminal lets out a short chime to tell you that the datachip is available to peruse. You swiftly learn that the previous owner had no fears of another getting it, nothing is encrypted. Moronic, but you have no intention of questioning a gift of this magnitude. Examining the files is a trite venture, filled with more scrolling than anything until your brain decides to actually function. You are ... were, Dinami. You helped create files that behaved much the same way, though far more comprehensive and with actual encryptions that needed advanced hacking packages to get through without damaging the logs. You stop looking at this like some rookie and begin peering at the file names in a new light. Some of them do not change functions, still carrying little interest, but most of them become far more. Pieces to a far greater puzzle that causes your brain to flutter at the prospect of solving. You bring up your own terminal, sending a premade package to the terminal to run a program to further sort through the information available on the chip. It shouldn't take too long. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" Riq questions, at least giving you something to do while you wait. "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." <<else>>\ "Lahka," she says, not even pausing to think it through. Riq huffs behind you, muttering an apology for not thinking about her sooner. "She's probably in her booth." Kahtea sneers as she leans in. "You'll have to disturb her if you really want her help." "Or," Riq starts, pulling up her terminal, "I just buzz her over." She presses a button and then gives Kahtea a wink, one that the zeach ignores as she turns and walks away. "Thanks," you tell the terran, spotting another zeach approaching at a languorous pace. Like all the others, she's soft on the eyes and possesses a slender frame with no real curves in sight. Her skin is a medium brown, which does wonders to pull attention to her light blue, scarlet, and light yellow feathers. You also notice that part of her left ear is cut, a deep gash that may be the reason why every few seconds, her ear twitches as if something is touching it. All too late do realize that she's entirely naked, wearing only a thin veil around her shoulders. You avert your eyes, though you suppose none of the zeaches here care much for modesty. They were used to this, it was you who was making a big deal about it. "Yes?" she asks, her voice low and almost at a seductive rumble that you're not entirely sure she can help. "My friend here needs your help. I'll run some drinks to your client so they don't get bored." "Put something in there that'll make her fall asleep, and you won't ever hear me complain." "Too touchy?" "Boring is more like it," she sighs, turning her gaze to you. "Yes?" "I heard you're good with tech." You turn the terminal to face her. "I need help cracking into this chip if possible." "Easy. Give me a bit of time." She takes a seat and Riq passes her a drink, her attention then turning to you. "You really don't like sex, or was that just to get Kahtea to leave you alone?" "I was being honest. Sexual attraction matters to me as much as someone's opinion of me." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="1.07IgnoreNoRomance"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is she always like that?" you question Riq. "Wouldn't you know? You're her favorite terran." The two of you chuckle as a zeach who you actually know approaches. Before you can even properly greet her, she's by your side and cradling your face in her softly-padded, though taloned, hands. "$name, what happened?" <<include "1.08">>
You point at the <<if $tech >=10>>terminal given to you by Riq.<<else>>chip, now resting on the counter top.<</if>> "I'm working." "Take a break," she coos further, causing you to roll your eyes. Before she was a bit cute, but now she's just annoying you. <<if $tech >=10>>\ "I'd rather focus on this." And, as if to thank you for your patience, the terminal lets out a short chime to tell you that the datachip is available to peruse. You wink at the zeach before turning back around and opening the folder. Whoever owned the chip before had no fears of another getting it. Moronic, but you have no intention of questioning a gift of this magnitude. Examining the files is a trite venture, filled with more scrolling than anything until your brain decides to actually function. You are ... were, Dinami. You helped create files that behaved much the same way, though far more comprehensive and with actual encryptions that needed advanced hacking packages to get through without damaging the logs. You stop looking at this like some rookie and begin peering at the file names in a new light. Some of them do not change functions, still carrying little interest, but most of them become far more. Pieces to a far greater puzzle that causes your brain to flutter at the prospect of solving. You bring up your own terminal, sending a premade package to Riq's to run a program to further sort through the information available on the chip. It shouldn't take too long, but while you wait, you turn to see if the zeach ever left. She did, probably pestering someone with a fatter account and more desperation. Still, you can't help but think about the other reasons you turned her down. <<else>>\ "I'd rather focus on this. Though if you know someone good with tech, I'd love to meet them." "Lahka," she says, not even pausing to think it through. Riq huffs behind you, muttering an apology for not thinking about her sooner. "She's probably in her booth." Kahtea sneers as she leans in. "You'll have to disturb her if you really want her help." "Or," Riq starts, pulling up her terminal, "I just buzz her over." She presses a button and then gives Kahtea a wink, one that the zeach ignores as she turns and walks away. "Thanks," you tell the terran, spotting another zeach approaching at a languorous pace. Like all the others, she's soft on the eyes and possesses a slender frame with no real curves in sight. Her skin is a medium brown, which does wonders to pull attention to her light blue, scarlet, and light yellow feathers. You also notice that part of her left ear is cut, a deep gash that may be the reason why every few seconds, her ear twitches as if something is touching it. All too late do you realize that she's entirely naked, wearing only a thin veil around her shoulders. You avert your eyes, though you suppose none of the zeaches here care much for modesty. They were used to this, it was you who was making a big deal about it. "Yes?" she asks, her voice low and almost at a seductive rumble. "My friend here needs your help. I'll run some drinks to your client so they don't get bored." "Put something in there that'll make her fall asleep, and you won't ever hear me complain." "Too touchy?" "Boring is more like it," she sighs, turning her gaze to you. "Yes?" "I heard you're good with tech." You show her the datachip. "I need help cracking into this chip if possible." "Easy. Give me a bit of time." She takes a seat and Riq passes her an external terminal as well as a drink. You don't want to just stare at her so you place your attention elsewhere. Your mind goes back to the last zeach, thinking about the other reasons you turned her down. <</if>>\ [[You’re not interested in people. Period. (Eliminates Romance Entirely)|1.07IgnoreNoRomance][$int to "none"]] [[You’re interested, just not sexually but romance wise … (Sex Negative Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "none"]] [[You’re interested sexually. Romance wise … (Sex Positive Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "present"]]
You choose to ignore her, not caring to give a reason. In fact, you hope she just walks away, which happens later rather than sooner. Despite remaining quiet, you do think about the reason why you turned her down. [[You’re not interested in people. Period. (Eliminates Romance Entirely)|1.07IgnoreNoRomance][$int to "none"]] [[You’re interested, just not sexually but romance wise … (Sex Negative Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "none"]] [[You’re interested sexually. Romance wise … (Sex Positive Choice)|1.07IntRomance][$s_att to "present"]]
[[Romance doesn't exist either.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "no"]] [[Romance fluctuates.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "meh"]] [[You feel romance too.|1.07IntChoice][$r_att to "yes"]]
If you are going to be specific about the gender then … [[You are only interested in men.|1.07IgnoreMen][$int to "men"]] [[You are only interested in women.|1.07IgnoreWomen][$int to "women"]] [[You are only interested in non-binary/genderfluid people.|1.07IgnoreNonBin][$int to "nonbinary"]] [[You are interested in everyone.|1.07IgnoreAll][$int to "all"]]
<<if $s_att is "none">>You’re not interested in people sexually, and you only find yourself attracted to males. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>You’re interested in sex but only find yourself attracted to males. One for two when she needs a perfect score.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>You're not interested in people sexually even though you are attracted to females. The thing is, she needs a perfect score, and she's one for two. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>It's not that you found her unattractive. And perhaps any other day you'd take her up on it, but today isn't that day and she just has to accept that.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>You’re not interested in people sexually, and you only find yourself only attracted to people who are nonbinary or genderfluid. So, she just kind of lucked out entirely there.<<else>>You’re interested in sex but only find yourself attracted to people who are nonbinary or genderfluid. One for two when she needs a perfect score.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
<<if $s_att is "none">>It didn't matter what she was, you weren't a sexually charged being. Sex exists and you don't care much for it, end of story.<<else>>It's not that you found her unattractive. And perhaps any other day you'd take her up on it, but today isn't that day and she just has to accept that.<</if>> <<include "1.07IgnoreNoRomance">>
"Here comes your zeach," Riq warns and <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>you turn to see Checl slowly approaching, her eyes dashing from you to the zeach beside you, Layla. Lashka. Lashi ...<<else>>before you can even turn your head enough to spot her, she's there and cradling your cheek.<</if>> <<if $inv_bsdatachip and $tech <10>>\ "Hi Checl." "Hello, Lahka. What are you doing?" Ah ... close enough. Though the question sounds like it was meant for her coworker, she's staring at you, a hint of something else in her eyes. "Your friend here asked for my help with their terminal." "Oh, is that all?" "What else would I need from Lahka?" you question, smirking as everyone seems to have an opinion on that. Lahka looks you up and down as if deciding on whether or not solars would be enough for her to accept you in her booth. Riq is once again informing the knowing world that she has a thing for zeaches. And Checl simply seems to want to pout. <<else>>\ "What happened?" <</if>>\ <<include "1.08">>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $unlock_checl to true>> <<if ($int is "men" or $int is "all") and ($s_att is "present") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_tser to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "men" or $int is "all") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_zihr to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "women" or $int is "all") and ($s_att is "present") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_checl to true>> <</if>> <<if ($int is "all" or $int is "nonbinary") and ($s_att is "none") and ($r_att is not "no")>> <<set $flirt_sin to true>> <</if>> <<if $int is "all" or $int is "nonbinary">> <<set $flirt_minute to true>> <</if>> <<if $int is "women" or $int is "all">> <<set $flirt_seben to true>> <</if>> <<if $s_att is not "none" and $r_att is not "no">> <<set $flirt_memphis to true>> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ <<if ($inv_bsdatachip) and ($tech <10) and (not hasVisited("1.07Accept4"))>>\ Checl's eyes grow wide as she stares at you, charging forward and grabbing your chin to undoubtedly look at the bruises that have claimed your cheeks. "Gentle," you snort, wondering if you should push her away. Zeaches are an extremely touchy species, personal space isn't a thing to them. They'd touch a complete stranger without a second thought as it's just in their nature. The last time you pulled away, she thought you were mad at her, and it took more than an hour to explain why you reacted in such a way. <<else>>\ "It doesn't look that bad, right?" you snort, wondering if you should push her away. Zeaches are an extremely touchy species, personal space isn't a thing to them. They'd touch a complete stranger without a second thought as it's just in their nature. The last time you pulled away, she thought you were mad at her, and it took more than an hour to explain why you reacted in such a way. <</if>>\ //You can now check the [[Relations|Sidebar_Relations]] page if you are curious to see all the characters you can romance with the choices that you picked earlier.// <<if $flirt_checl>>[[Push her away. (Will remove Checl as a potential LI.)|1.08PushHerAway][$checl_touch to false; $flirt_checl to false]]<<else>>[[Push her away.|1.08PushHerAway][$checl_touch to false]]<</if>> <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Lean into her touch.|1.08LeanIntoTouch][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<<else>>[[Lean into her touch.|1.08LeanIntoTouch][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Snatch her hand and kiss it.|1.08SnatchHand][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<<else>>[[Snatch her hand and kiss it.|1.08SnatchHand][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Let her.|1.08LetHer]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Checl will try to keep her hands to herself.<</notify>><</if>>\ "Checl," you start, grabbing her wrists and moving them away from your face. "We talked about this. Remember?" "Yes, my apologies." Head feathers that have once been frazzled a moment ago now drop back into place. She shifts from one foot to the other, unable to keep still. "I still want to know what happened to you. What did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
You're unsure what comes over you as her hands touch your face. It's almost an involuntary action that finds you leaning closer, breathing her entire presence in. She smells slightly of a freshly watered garden or the waning, morning dew. Sadly, the stale desert winds will rob her of such a subtle yet reassuring scent, leaving an odd perfume of insipidness behind. When you realize what you're doing, you straighten up and hope that she hasn't noticed the action you can barely even explain. "Will you answer?" she asks. "What did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
You follow her with your eyes, not breaking that contact even as you snatch her wrist. She yelps in shock but you refuse to loosen your grip as you bring her hand closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Everything about her seems to freeze and you can do nothing more than laugh as you release her, getting to your feet. <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept")>>\ "Did you do that to Kahtea as well?" "Oof," you chuckle, "are you jealous?" "Irritated is a better word." "Next time I'll invite you to come by. How about that?" She rolls her eyes and points to your face. "Tell me what you did." <<else>>\ "Let's go, Checl." "You ... you," she stammers, unable to form words as you hear her follow you out. Once she is at your side she points to your face. "Your teasing aside, what did you do?" <</if>>\ <<include "1.09">>
You allow her to continue cradling your face. Despite possessing taloned fingers, you're always amazed at how soft the palms of her hands are. You would compare them to pillows if they were slightly more fluffy. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head as she pulls away. "What did you do?" <<include "1.09">>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $flirt_tser is false>> <<set $tserRo to 50; $tserRoPo to 0>> <</if>> <</nobr>>\ "What did I do?" you ask incredulously. "Why do you assume this is my fault?" "Isn't it?" Part of you wish zeaches had brows; at least it would give them slightly more familiar expressions. As of now, you can only judge some of her emotions off of tone, which isn't bad since emotion seeps through her words so freely. But a little extra assistance can't hurt. <<if $inv_bsdatachip and not hasVisited("1.07Accept4")>>\ <<if $tech >=10>>\ Before you or her can say more, the terminal chimes, telling you that the program has executed its function and you can now examine the findings. Like you hoped, a few folders are highlighted. "What is that?" You don't answer as you open a few of the files and find yourself grinning. The Black Star gang has just unknowingly handed you information on some of their secret bases, members, dealings, and shipments. You can't help but ponder how the bhela got their hands on this, and if Black Star even realized what had managed to slip out their hands. If you were of a vigilante mindset, this would be like finding diamond while on a gold hunt. There is very little you can do with this but you decide to hold on to it anyway. <<else>>\ "Finished," Lahka announces. "I ran one of my programs on it, cutting out the need for you to check one folder at a time." "So, what am I looking at? Anything good?" "Depends if you wanted to know about the inner workings of Black Star. This is basically a digital version of their shipping manifests, member info, base coordinates, and probably a lot more." "So, something I should hang onto," you grin. "I'll send the program to your terminal so you don't have to crack it again." You thank Lahka who orders herself a drink and then waves the three of you goodbye as she heads back to her booth. You eject the chip and store it back into your pocket. <</if>>\ "I'm so confused," Checl groans. "What is that and what happened to your face?" <</if>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked to true; $inv_bsdatachip to false>> <</nobr>>\ "I'll tell you on the way home." She nods. The two of you say farewell to Riq and walk outside just as an explosion causes the ground to shake. A dense smoke rises from a distant building, promising to paint the sky with a darkened fog. Even with it being miles away, you can hear the foundations crumble, the rest of it following soon after. The fighting will meet an armistice once night sets in. Not even their grudges are strong enough to test their luck against the <<link 'nightbeasts'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/nightbeast.png" align="right" width="40%">The nightbeasts are a nocturnal, carnivorous species that live in the The Spires located on Crion. During the day, the beasts sleep underneath the sand, the only thing that can be seen are the thin spikes that rest along the creature's back. At night, the creatures awaken and spend most of this time hunting and eating. Large and bulky, a nightbeast is a quadruped with no tail, thin spines standing upright along its back, and along neck that leads to a sizeable head. The creature has no eyes but a set of quills around its face with slits beneath that act as nostrils. It has a large mouth that houses a row of long serrated teeth used strictly for tearing into flesh. With four muscular legs, nightbeasts rely on speed and stealthy to take down their prey. Their back legs are digitgrade, allowing a more nimble gait, as well as to press themselves closer to the ground or even stand on their hind-legs. Their forelimbs are used to catch prey and dig, as on the end of both of these limbs are long-curved claws that allow the animal to dig underneath the packed sand and create small den pockets.<</dialog>><</link>>. Though, you find that not to be much of a reprieve. Now, no part of the day or night will be safe. <a data-passage="1.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The two of you head away from the main streets and towards the slower, though no less populated, residential area. A cluster of rundown apartment-styled buildings exists in front of you, made primarily of sandstone and scraps of whatever one can find. Trash litters the site and does more for the 'beauty' than the actual overgrown plants and vines adorning the yard. A large fire that reeks of burnt rubber lies in front of the building you head towards, a sizeable crowd lingering around it and showing no signs of being repulsed by the odor. You quicken your step, jumping up and grabbing hold of a rickety ladder that falls down with a loud clatter. You move out of the way, allowing Checl to go first. "Thank you," she smiles, performing a small curtsy before she makes her way up. You follow close behind, climbing up to the third story and then swinging to a large ledge and entering the building. Poorly blue-lit halls rest before you, many of the lights flickering and briefly applying light to the numerous atrocities lying in the dark recesses of the hall. You've learned to ignore them. Either that or you have gotten so used to the sight that you'd probably be far more bothered if it was cleaned. A scary thought, no matter which one is true. You enter your shared home, greeted by the few candles that dot the small space, illuminating key areas and reminding you of the numerous chores you repeatedly put off for the next day. A large, shoddy rug rests in the middle of the dusty dark gray floor that holds more holes than dust. The area is sparse, with minimum furniture acquired through various means adorning the room. Consisting of a long three-person chocolate couch, a chair of the same color, a wooden table pushed up against the wall, and an old black bookcase. All but the couch was stolen, looted from neighboring apartments or found on the streets. <a data-passage="1.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You close the door, squinting in suspicion at how quiet everything is. But realization hits you too late as a figure leaps out from the darkness, pinning you to the ground as its head looms closer. The beast wastes no time, nuzzling into you and producing an impatient and purr-like whimper. "I can't do anything if you don't get off," you point out, wishing to sigh, but the beast's weight disallows such an action. Instead, you release a sharp whistle and snap your fingers, causing the creature to immediately move, lying on its side and wiggling uncontrollably. "He missed you," Checl observes from the kitchen, busying herself with tidying the small area. "No, he's just hungry," you snort. You wander over to the cabinets, narrowing your eyes as you look at the sparseness. A few more cans of food. You'll have to make a run soon. But that is a thought for tomorrow. You grab two cans and go to the creature who seems ready to pounce on you a second time. "Alright, alright," you chuckle, opening the cans and placing the alien-like sludge in the metallic-chipped bowl. He pauses, waiting for you to back up before he licks at the sludge with a long and thick luminescent tongue. He's an <<link 'aiczeots'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/aiczeots.png" align="right" width="55%">Aiczeots, also known as Element/Domain Hounds or Slit Hounds, they are a reptilian-canid species native to the Draconis system but distributed to other areas by the vetix who first partnered and formed bonds with the creatures. A tamed hound is a loyal companion that will risk its life for the individual it has bonded with whereas a wild one is an efficient and ardent apex predator that is known for its intellect and skill. There are eight known hound breeds, with one of those being modified: Blight, Earth, Rune (modified), Electric, Blood, Chaos, Fire and Spirit. Possessing six powerful legs, the aiczeots are covered in a mix of tough, chitin-like armor on its back and underbelly with simpler scales everywhere else. The forelegs have a dew claw on each, used mostly for grasping onto rocky surfaces and traversing the land at quicker speeds. The mid-legs main use is for climbing and during close combat has been seen to be used to grab and swat at their target. On both shoulders is a thick, round-tip spike that lies against their back but can twitch and vibrate at times. Though not truly known, it's believed that the spikes function as an olfactory system. When an aiczeots shake them it is believed they are releasing pheromones or a strong musk to warn others of their presence and mark territory. One of the top senses in the creatures is their smell, and many believe aiczeots each have their own unique smell to distinguish them from others. The tail length and thickness depends on the breed with blight aiczeots having long yet thin tails to spirit aiczeots having the shortest tails. These lengths can be between 4 to 7 feet in length, while aiczeots stand between 4 to 5.5 feet. Aiczeots have a set of slits resting on the rear of their underbelly, both hindlegs, and on both sides of their foreheads. These act as the creatures nose, allowing them to not only discern a wide variety of smells but also filter out toxins and locate prey. The creatures possess a long, thick and slimy tongue that can both be used as a weapon as well as a means of tasting the air and providing them the ability to pick apart chemicals in the air or along the ground. It is not unusual to see aiczeots licking the ground during hunts or simply out of curiosity in new environments. This tongue can also be used as a weapon as every breed has their own form of toxin that make up the slime that coats their tongue and can be used against others.<</dialog>><</link>>, though many simply refer to the enormous reptilian-canine species as an element or domain hound. Its height reaches around four feet, and its weight eclipses yours. Its body is a mix of tough, chitin-like armor on its back, underbelly, and simple scales everywhere else. On both shoulders, a thick, rounded spike lies against the back. The few slits along its underbelly, back legs, and both sides of its forehead have a mesmerizingly … [[… crimson, like blood, glow.|1.12][$breed to "blood"]] [[… neon green, resembling acid, glow.|1.12][$breed to "blight"]] [[… pitch black, a captivating but never-ending abyss, glow.|1.12][$breed to "chaos"]] [[… purple, ethereal, glow.|1.12][$breed to "spirit"]] [[… rust orange, relaxing and calming, glow.|1.12][$breed to "earth"]] [[… bright yellow, volatile, glow.|1.12][$breed to "electric"]]
Your particular hound is a <<if $breed is "blood">>blood one. His body is dark red with bright red slits; as the name implies, his talent is blood. Research and personal experiences have shown that the creature is susceptible to blood. Being able to pick up the smell and use it to track.<<elseif $breed is "blight">>blight one. His body is a dark brown, with his slits being an acidic green and yellow mix. Research told you that he can make acid that will coat the tip of his tail and tongue. While personal experiences have shown you just how dangerous that acid can be when it comes into contact with others.<<elseif $breed is "chaos">>chaos one. He's a dark blue that, if not studied hard enough, simply looks black. His slits are black, but you have found that using such color to describe it is strange, especially since they feel like they're dragging you into an abyss. You've never had it happen to you, and you hope you never do, but the hound can practically mesmerize another. Surrounding them in terrifying darkness that they can't escape.<<elseif $breed is "earth">>earth one. His body is a medium-brown tone with rusty orange slits and light tan and red speckles dotting his snout, shoulder spikes, and tail area. Like his name says, he's at home amidst dirt and sand. You've watched him dig plenty of holes, manipulating the earth to bury himself within.<<elseif $breed is "electric">>electric one. No matter how many times you tell yourself that he isn't supposed to walk around electrified, you find yourself still disappointed when you don't see it. The hound's body is a deep maroon, and their slits are a bright golden that stands out, especially at night. Along all six legs rest a webbing of golden veins that fade as the maroon color grows more prominent.<<else>>spirit one. Reminding you of a ghost, the hound is a light grey with purple slits. Research tells you that his ability is akin to empathy, picking up the emotions of others and being able to manipulate them to a point. You've never seen it in action, but you're sure you one day will.<</if>> The hound finishes the last of his dinner and turns to you, cocking his head to the side and performing a sound you have long since realized is meant to be a whimper. "One day," you murmur as he approaches and collapses into your lap, forgetting how much he weighs. Pushing him off is pointless. He simply doesn't budge or will readjust to make an attempt harder. So, you simply pat the area devoid of scales. "You deserve far better food than this …" [[Ramses.|1.13][$hound to "Ramses"]] [[Churro.|1.13][$hound to "Churro"]] [[Pyro.|1.13][$hound to "Pyro"]] [[Fenrir.|1.13][$hound to "Fenrir"]] [[Bones.|1.13][$hound to "Bones"]] [[Onyx.|1.13][$hound to "Onyx"]] [[Ghost.|1.13][$hound to "Ghost"]] [[His name is …|InsertHoundName]]
<<textbox "$hound" "" autofocus>><<button "Enter">><<replace "#hound">>The name of the aiczeots is $hound.<</replace>><</button>> <span id="hound"></span> <a data-passage="1.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
His diet should be nothing but meat—preferably live—and eggs with some minerals combined. But you're stuck feeding him this slop that barely gives him his needed nutrients. "Alright," Checl sighs, gaining your attention, "tell me what happened." "First, here." You retrieve your pack, leaving $hound's side for a moment to give it to her. She eyes you questionably before opening it up and you watch <<if $solars >=200>>as her eyes widen in shock, her feathers again rising.<<else>>as she silently counts the solars inside.<</if>> <<if $solars >=200>>\ "This has to be more than a hundred. How did you get this much so quick?" You hum, waving her question away. She won't chide you on your activities but that doesn't mean she'll like the idea of you going around starting gang wars in the place you reside. <</if>>\ She disappears for a minute, coming back with another satchel that you know holds the rest of the solars you've all been collecting for over a year. She begins counting, falling into a natural pace that has her mumbling to herself. <a data-passage="1.13.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
For a moment, you look her over. Her main skin tone is light gray, but you find it odd to even pay attention to that aspect when her feathers are the main attraction. They consist of dark gray, ginger, sage, and a rouge pink. You've seen zeaches wear them in several different styles, mainly using twine and some kind of oil that keeps their feathers from moving. At times, Checl will pull her shoulder-length feathers back, carefully using twine to keep them out of her way. But more often than not, they're down and free to do as they wish, some feathers resting against her shoulders. Like most of her species, she's tall and slender-framed. A body that looks perfect for gymnastics and dancing. A fair assessment seeing that you've seen her do both and find yourself constantly impressed at how fluid she had appeared. She had been practically hypnotic. Telling a story with her movements, whether she intended that to be the outcome or not. She finishes around the same time you're done with assessing her appearance. A look of hope in her eyes as she stares at you. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Well, we're about fifty solars off. Maybe even closer to forty. But we're much closer." You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You could've met the goal if you hadn't given the solars to the man, but still, this is something. "But $name, that's not what I care about right now. What happened?" <<else>>\ "Don't get me wrong, I want to jump up and down right now because we have enough to get out of here. But what happened?" You ignore her probing, coming to her side as you look the solars over. "Are you serious? We have enough?" "$name." "A whole fucking year," you snort, throwing your head back and wanting to scream at long last. You had doubts that you would ever get to this point. That maybe you'll be stuck here in the Dreads for another year or so. "$name." "What?" "What. Happened?" <</if>>\ [[Tell her the truth.|1.14][$open +=5; $checl -=10; $unlock_zihr to true; $solars to 0]] [[Fabricate.|1.14][$open -=5; $checl +=10; $unlock_zihr to true; $solars to 0]] [[There's a comfortable middle ground somewhere.|1.14][$unlock_zihr to true; $solars to 0]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>For the sake of the group and the ability to leave, you give all your solars to Checl.<</notify>><</if>>\ You prepare to answer her question as the door slams open, and you hear him before you see him. "What did you do?" You roll your eyes, not even bothering to turn around and face the <<link 'raza'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/raza.png" align="right" width="30%">Raza are a sentient, bipedal mammal race with the unique ability to take on the physiology of other species who come into contact with one of them. Such an ability is believed to have aided the Raza with communicating with other species and quickly assimilating into different cultures, most notably the Trarkran who originate from the same planet and star system. In respects to basic skeletal structure and limbs, Raza resemble Terrans the most. Like the Terran species, they possess five fingers and toes, with a vertical spine that leads to a single head. On their foreheads are two horn-like antennas that can be semi-controlled by the individual. Along with this are four egg-shaped markings that rest in the middle of their forehead, with the fourth on the bridge of their nose between their eyes. Unlike the various skin tones of the race, this gem-like feature is always a shade of light blue. Another bodily difference is the length of their ears. Shooting straight up, their ears can be anywhere from 8 to 12 inches, with a few outliers that are not uncommon. The Raza are one of the only species known to have dual-skin tones, their interior colors range in shades of green, blue, purple, red, and brown. While exterior tones rest along the forehead, arms, and legs, an assortment of colors has been observed besides brown, black, white, and grey. These colors are hereditary, with the chances of acquiring the father's gene at 75%. Eye color is similar, existing in many colors and allowing the Raza the ranking of being one of the most colorful species in the galaxy.<</dialog>><</link>> that enters. It's late, and you're not sure you're of the mindset to receive both a lecture from Checl and a verbal lashing from Zihr. And so you remain quiet. You're more than sure that your current appearance holds enough incriminating evidence to validate whatever Zihr believes. "Zihr?" Checl questions, her head cocked to the side in confusion as she glances from him to you. "Not now," he tells her, walking to her side, but his eyes never leave you. <<if settings.codexShow>>\ <span class ="chip">>Species: Raza Origins: Miarilia In respect to basic skeletal structure and limbs, raza resemble terrans the most. They possess five fingers and toes, with a vertical spine that leads to a single head. On their foreheads are two horn-like antennas that can be semi-controlled by the individual. Along with this are four egg-shaped markings that rest in the middle of their forehead, with the fourth on the bridge of their nose between their eyes. Unlike the various skin tones of the race, this gem-like feature is always a shade of light blue. Another bodily difference is the length of their ears. Shooting straight up, their ears can be anywhere from 8 to 12 inches, with a few outliers that are not uncommon. The raza are one of the only species known to have dual-skin tones, their interior colors range in shades of green, blue, purple, red, and brown. While exterior tones rest along the forehead, arms, and legs, an assortment of colors has been observed besides brown, black, white, and grey. These colors are hereditary, with the chances of acquiring the father's gene at 75%. Eye color is similar, existing in many colors and allowing the raza the ranking of being one of the most colorful species in the galaxy.</span> <</if>>\ Finally, he snorts, shaking his head in what sounds like disappointment, but you're sure it's just a lack of surprise. "Do you think your actions through or do you simply make it up as you go?" "I can assure you, my actions are thought out," you reply, leaning back with a sigh. "But the overall concept? That's nothing but pure improv." "The area is practically engulfed in war." "What?" Checl shouts, but neither of you pay her any mind. "If not today," you say jadedly, "then sometime tomorrow or the day after that." He narrows his eyes, indicating that you're about to be reminded of how honorable he is compared to you and perhaps everyone in the Dreads. "Dozens, no, hundreds of innocent people will be caught up in the crossfire. And for what? For you to earn a few solars?" [[“Go play hero then.”|1.14GoPlayHero][$zihr +=3; $humor +=3]] [[“A few?”|1.14AFew][$zihr +=2]] [[“Ah, I'm supposed to care.”|1.14IShouldCare][$zihr -=3; $attitude -=5]] [[“Jealous?”|1.14Jealous][$zihr -=2]] [[“You're ignorant.”|1.14Ignorant][$zihr -=5; $humor -=3]] [[“Please don't simplify this.”|1.14Simplify][$zihr +=5; $attitude +=5]] [[“I'm not about to argue with you.”|1.14ArgueLess][$emotion -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "You're right," you gasp in mocked shock, "it sounds like the perfect time for you to go and play hero then." You rise, wishing to end this conversation for the night. You're sure he'll bring it up tomorrow, and perhaps then you'll have more of a wish to engage him. <<include "1.15">>
"Say what you want about my actions. But reducing it all down to 'a few solars' is just demeaning and incorrect. My haul is what's going to finally get the three of us out of here." "Should I be grateful?" he asks, brow raised. "No, I'd rather you just shut up," you mumble, walking past him and towards the staircase. <<include "1.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> "You say - ahh," you cut yourself off in mock realization, nodding as you hum, knowing the action is just irritating him more. "I see. I'm supposed to care about some random individuals?" He looks horrified before replying. "Yes!" "Well, unfortunately," you state, clapping and getting to your feet, "I don't." You roll your eyes as you push past him and towards the staircase. <<include "1.15">>
"Regretfully, over the past year that I've been here, I've gotten to know you, Zihr. And I think you're just jealous that your little vigilante mind didn't come up with this plan before me." "No one would ever mistake you for using your mind, so it's understandable for you to be wrong in this case." "Or your pride, like always, continues to shine through and be your best trait." You huff, getting to your feet and walking towards the staircase. "Either way, it's done now. Learn to live with it." <<include "1.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> Shaking your head, you think his words over, not understanding how someone who has seen the factions go after one another countless times still seems so blind. "I caused them to go to war? They've been at war. At most, I just handed them the match to light their individual bombs. Every innocent person you speak of has already figured that out and knows how to avoid two gangs that have been pissing each other off since the Dreads have been established." "This world you live in where nothing is your fault, is it nice?" "About as nice as the ignorant world you inhabit. And if you'll excuse me," you walk past him and towards the stairs, "I'm going to go visit that little world." <<include "1.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Zihr, I understand why you're upset but don't simplify it like that. If you want to vilify me, then do it some other way. But don't make it seem like I went out of my way to cause a war that has never had anything to do with me." Not wishing to hear him reply, you rise and walk past him to the stairs. <<include "1.15">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Detached ++</span><</if>> You shake your head and get to your feet. "I'm not about to argue with your Zihr." That's all you say, and all you feel is needed as you head up the stairs and to your room. <<include "1.15">>
You hear the two of them speak in hushed tones or what they believe to be faint. They seem to continuously forget that you're not a regular terran, and these spots adorning your skin aren't the outcome of you getting innovative with geometrical tattoos. But you let them have it. Tonight, you just want silence. <a data-passage="1.15.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Once in your room, you change into clothes that are far more comfortable but slow at the shirt. Before you can pull it down, you turn to look at the scar that decorates your back from the cracked mirror residing in the corner. As far as scars go, <<if $scars is "few" or $scars is "several">>it's the ugliest one you have. Badass, sure, but horrendous in appearance. Your other scars healed enough to look like traditional ones, neat in an odd, macabre sense. But this scar ... it<<else>>and seeing that it's your only one, it's horrendous. Badass, sure, but for it to be your sole scar it is disturbing in appearance. It<</if>> reminds you of a chasm whose maw will never close as it forever searches for the death it was denied. The borders of the scar look like a poor, patchwork job of stitched-together flesh, even though no one has ever touched it. Flesh lapping over flesh, forming what you can only describe as knots and ridges. <<if $scars is "few" or $scars is "several">>It's<<else>>You discovered this to be<</if>> one of the few downsides to your body's self-numbing and self-repairing abilities. Since it wasn't technically regenerative, the skin healed in an abnormal way. It healed while blood still exuded to the surface, before the far more natural parts of your body could repair what was broken. So while the skin built itself back up, what rested underneath was still being mended, causing ... this. You pull down the shirt and push the origins of the mark from your mind as you ... [[... make sure to grab your hat.|1.15.2][$souvenir to "hat"]] [[... grab your jacket.|1.15.2][$souvenir to "jacket"]] [[... fix your necklace.|1.15.2][$souvenir to "necklace"]] [[... readjust your scarf.|1.15.2][$souvenir to "scarf"]] [[... head towards the window.|1.15.2]]
<<if $souvenir is "nothing">>... you head towards the window.<<else>>Once you have yourself sorted, you head towards the window.<</if>><<if $species is "blight">>You barely have time to set one foot out it and onto the exterior stairs when you are pushed to the side, a much larger figure pushing past you. "Seriously, $hound?" You question, watching as the hound darts up the exterior stairs then glances back at you. His tail thumps against the railing, obviously waiting for you to follow. You mumble under your breath about patience and one being calm before heading out after him.<<else>> You vault the sill and land on the degrading exterior stairs. Before you can make your way up, you hear a disappointed hum and turn to see $hound staring after you. He rests his head on the sill, and though he has no eyes to manipulate you with, the action alone sways you. "Come on, but be careful." Of course, he behaves as if he only hears the first part as he perks up immediately, leaping out the window and onto the rickety staircase in a clusmy heap. You cling to the railing, watching as he wastes no time covering the distance between where you stand now and your destination, the roof.<</if>> Once there, you must be careful to avoid the numerous holes and loose slabs waiting for a reason to collapse or slide off the side. Luckily, you've been here so many times that such action is second nature. Approaching your usual spot, you sit down, and jaded $markings eyes drift upwards to the sky, taking in the trepidatious dark gray as it meekly morphs with the far more bold, blood-toned red. Though the immediate area is relatively quiet, only bits of conversation from below float to your ears. In the distance, you hear the screams and shouts of those who, unfortunately, became prey to the nightbeasts. <a data-passage="1.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With the fading of the screams, it once again grows quiet, causing you to wonder if the adamant prey got away from the hunter or not. Odds aren't in favor of the chased. You sigh, relaxing again and letting your head hit the rusty slab of metal underneath you as you continue to watch the skies. You vaguely recall a scene that dates back to your instructional days. Countless corporate speakers coming in to speak and encourage you all to do your best now so that one day you can work for their company or train under them. There was no joy on the faces of your peers. The spark of interest that resided there simply due to the guest giving you all a reprieve from your studies. But the days when someone from the United Terran Space Fleet came to speak, all the children would sit up, each excited and asking a dozen different questions. You doubt they cared much about safety and protecting terran ideals in an ever-expanding universe. No, they simply wanted to see what the fuss was all about. To be where so many seem to want to go. [[You never wanted to be up here.|1.16StayDownHere][$view -=10]] [[You dreamed of the day you would be amongst the stars.|1.16GoToThem][$view +=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You admired their thirst for adventure as you would respect a zoologist for engaging with dangerous predators. This is to say that what may be a job and a dream for others does not mean the same for you. You were content with lazily peering up at the sky, coming up with a slew of 'maybes' and 'if onlys' that amount to nothing in the end. <<include "1.17">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> And you were one of them. One of those doe-eyed kids that found themselves glancing up at the sky and thinking about what rests beyond. The exploration, danger, and mystery would overwhelm your senses and keep you up all night. The trarkran only fueled your wants. Not only was there space itself to investigate but lifeforms. Entire worlds with their own native populations and cultures that were nothing like yours. You grew up on stories, but the understanding that they could be far more than idle tales is what fueled you. There's no need to flip through books and imagine when you could one day be that protagonist traveling through the stars. <<include "1.17">>
<<if hasVisited("1.16StayDownHere")>>Until the day they became 'what nows.' It all feels so far away. And the more you think about it, the more you wish it was even farther.<<else>>That is until you got up here, and now you seem to only think about the days when it was all a distant dream.<</if>> The days where everything was simpler and contained to one planet. When the biggest threat you could imagine was from your own nescience as you fell down from a tree. When you were allowed to be a child. When your skin was unblemished by alien findings. Involuntarily, you growl in disgust, looking away as to not catch a glimpse of the markings that adorn your arms. While many find themselves curious or disturbed by the sight, you find it to be a reminder that you dearly hope to rid yourself of. A reminder of everything that you lost and the torture you've experienced since. Etched against your skin is something that you barely understand and brings nothing but heartache and an obdurate migraine. You'll find answers, but at what cost? Or even more, what will you gain? What will happen if the answers you receive leave you as confused as you are now? If nothing changes and ... a heavy head lands on your leg, causing you to abandon the thought. <a data-passage="1.17.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Seriously?" you ask the large, alien creature who behaves as if he has no idea what you're complaining about. He shifts and you can feel the roof creaking under his weight but it holds, of course it holds. $hound moves so that his head is pressed against your chest, pushing you gently and hoping for attention. You readily give it, using your palm against his chitinous skin. Petting him is a chore and sometimes causes blisters to form from the harsh contact, but you hardly find yourself caring. What is another blister or sore for the creature that saved your life and practically adopted you as his. This particular thought causes you to smile and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his thick neck. "At the very least," you start, "I got you out of this sucky ass deal." He makes a purring like sound, his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he relaxes in your touch. You spend a few more minutes like that, letting your mind idle as you cuddle with $hound. <a data-passage="1.17.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
But, like always, reality comes crashing back in, caring little for how ready you are to face it. Sitting up, $hound moves and allows you to stretch before heading towards the edge, peering down the side of the building at the ground below. Part of you craves to simply go back and lie down, to continue staring at the sky and reflect on all that life has handed you thus far. But that thought alone causes you to bristle. You've been doing that a lot now, reflecting. And each second of it manages to piss you off in a new way. You had never been one to sit around, and whether you like it or not, your hectic life has turned idleness into an onerous chore. And so, you leave the area behind, heading down the same way you came up with $hound close behind. You now have enough funds to buy one-way tickets away from here. It's time to discuss when that will happen. Reentering the apartment, you go into the kitchen to find only Checl. She hasn't moved from where you last seen her; even the satchel stays where she had placed it. Her gaze is still on the solars that rest before her. "Come sit," she says, finally looking up, "I'll get some supplies to treat your wounds." [[“Not a kid, Checl.”|1.17NotAKid][$checl -=2]] [[“No.”|1.17No]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Wanna get your hands on me?”|1.17HandsOnMe][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=2]]<<else>>[[“Wanna get your hands on me?”|1.17HandsOnMe][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=2]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“That's sweet of you.”|1.17SweetOfYou][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=2]]<<else>>[[“That's sweet of you.”|1.17SweetOfYou][$checlRo +=3; $checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=2]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“They're bruises, not cuts.”|1.17BruisesNotCuts]] [[Silently accept.|1.17SilentlyAccept][$checl +=2]]
"I'm not a kid, Checl. I can handle my own cuts and bruises." "Is that why you picked a fight with the two most dangerous gangs in the Dreads?" "In fact, yes. Because I knew that I could handle it and had everything planned out." "Why," she pauses, shaking her head as she catches herself, "doesn't matter, huh? Sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that you have no intention of dragging down. <<include "1.18">>
"No." "I ..." she starts, stumbling over her own thoughts as she tries to speak. "I just wanted to help." "And I don't want your help. We can leave it at that, or we can drag this into something else entirely. I choose the former." She stares at you for a long time, almost long enough to make you want to shift uncomfortably. "You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that you have no intention of dragging down. <<include "1.18">>
"You just want to put your hands on me," you sneer as you sit beside her. She leaves to gather all the supplies, and when she returns, places the rag and ice against your bruise gently. "Or maybe you just want me to put my hands on you," she counters. "If that was true," you answer, capturing her hand in yours, "I would just ask." <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>\ She moves away from your touch, though you note that the action feels forced. "Or just pay me, right?" "Pay you?" you ask in confusion. The bewilderment lasts for a second longer before you realize what she is referring too. "You're not going to let the Kahtea thing go, are you?" "First name basis?" "Checl." She shakes her head, turning her back to you as she says. "I'm sorry, it's just ... sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<else>>\ She pauses, and you can swear you hear her heart quickening. She whispers, "then why don't you?" You leave that question in the air, sighing as your mind reprimands you for entertaining this conversation. She grows frustrated, placing the rag back on your face but not as gently as before. "Then answer this, at least. Why? Why did you do it?" "Do what?" "You know what. This war. Was it needed?" She shakes her head and continues, "sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="1.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, isn't that sweet of you." "I'm always sweet to you," she mentions, grabbing some supplies before returning to your side. <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>"Even when you're fucking my co-workers."<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.07Accept2")>>\ "You're not going to let that go." "Would you." "Yes," you tell her, glancing over to catch her eye, "I would." <<else>>\ "You do have a tendency to look out for me." She's silent as she slowly puts the ice rag on your bruise. You place your hand over hers. "Hey, I'm thankful." "$name ..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Why did you do it?" "You know the answer to that." <</if>>\ "You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
"They're bruises, not cuts, Checl. There's only so much patience and ice." "Well, the good thing is that I have the patience and, at the moment, the ice." She pats the seat next to her, and you take it, watching as she gathers everything and wanders back over. Gently, she places it on the side of your face as if afraid to somehow injure you further. "Are you going to at least tell me why you did it?" "Like Zihr said, for the solars. Not like they needed it." "At least tell me that you didn't mean it to end the way it did." You're silent for a while before finally sighing. "Depends. Do you want me to lie to you or not?" She's quiet, the frown you spy on her face telling you precisely what she's thinking. "You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
You see nothing wrong with allowing her this. If you deny her, then she'll simply worry over you in a completely different way. At least with this, both of you are getting something out of it. Quietly, you take the seat that she gestures to, watching as she goes to grab the ice and rag and then comes back to your side. Gently, she places it on the side of your face as if afraid to somehow injure you further. "Are you going to at least tell me why you did it?" "You don't have to fill the silence." "I wasn't -" she sighs, remaining quiet for a few more ticks before saying, "sometimes it's hard to remember that even though I've known you for a year, I don't know you at all." You frown. She's right, but you hardly think now is a good time for her to try and get past defenses that have no intention of coming down. <<include "1.18">>
<<if $idle is "cig">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, slipping your e-cig out of your pocket. Your finger hardly even manages to hit the 'on' button as Checl rips the object from your grasp and places it on the counter in disgust. "That thing stinks and is not good for you." "Wow, I would've never guessed," you sigh, reaching for it, but she slides it farther. You roll your eyes, grabbing it and pocketing it. At least this allows you to change the subject. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, pulling out a piece of candy and after unwrapping it, plopping it in your mouth. "If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ "You know all that you need to know," you start, pulling your toothpick from your pocket and putting it in your mouth. "If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <<else>>\ "You know all that you need to know. If the need arises, you'll learn more then." Her eyes grow downcast, but you clear your throat, hoping to shift the conversation to a topic that doesn't revolve around you. <</if>>\ "We should talk about -" "Am I a friend or just an unfortunate add-on?" You raise a brow. "Unfortunate add-on?" "You may forget how we met, but I haven't." You, in fact, have not. <a data-passage="1.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel like you're melting underneath the sun, missing the cool breeze of absolutely any other planet. Crion has one season —perpetual summer. Most days, you can stand it. Your body does a fantastic job of regulating your body temperature enough to at least function. But this day is unusually dry, and even breathing feels strenuous. An entire day's energy, gone. You thank whatever deity or speck of dust out there keeping an eye on you that Prourc has allowed you shelter under the shade of his vendor stall. While you look as if you're ready to finally sit and share a conversation with Death themself, $hound seems to be soaking in every ray. He lays a few feet away from you on his back. If he could smile, he probably would be. You take another swig of water, only to mentally cry when you feel just how empty the canteen is. Flipping it over, you watch as not even a drop of water falls out. "Prourc?" you question, wondering where you found the energy to speak. He doesn't answer, and you're far too inert to move your head to see him. "How long is the line at the well?" "Long," he answers, "if they're not walking around the market, they're standing for their turn at the well." There's no way on Crion's three moons you are standing in line with the sun trying its best to end you. Proruc adds, "I though you terrans were adaptable." "We are," you growl, remembering a sun far harsher than this one. "But this heat is worse than any other day. We don't just grow insulated skin!" He squawks in agreement. Gathering your energy, you lean forward and nudge $hound's side. Instantly, he reacts, flipping over and kicking up sand as he directs his eye-less head towards you. You place the canteen near his nostril and try to remember the specific commands the two of you had agreed on to voice your question. You're still learning how to communicate with him, same as he. Thankfully, aiczeots are an intelligent species, and it doesn't take long for him to figure out what you're asking for. He flicks his tongue through the air a few times before grabbing your canteen and darting off. "Why did you send him?" Prourc asks, answering his question a tick later. "No one will dare mess with him. I see." "Unless they're hoping to escape this heat by death," you add, slowly getting to your feet. Still, you wish to follow to ensure he doesn't find himself in trouble. Anywhere else, and you wouldn't worry, but the occupants of the Dreads have been known to throw logic out the door when it comes to survival.</span> <a data-passage="1.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You walk the path towards the well, an ordinarily busy area that merchants have tried to capitalize on many times since you found yourself a resident two months ago. You even remember the days when one of the gangs tried to charge people for water. It didn't end well and was never attempted again. Proving that the people of the Dreads allowed the gangs to stay simply because they had more noteworthy things to worry about. Like Prourc said, the well's line goes on forever, stretching deep into the heart of the marketplace. You stand off to the side, seeking what little shade can be found under a roof's extension. At the front of said line is $hound, his tail whipping from one side to the other and creating considerable breadth between him and all those too terrified to try and stop him. Taking your attention off of him, you find yourself drawn to the screeching of a man nearby. He set his stall up in the perfect location, and you're sure there's something to be said about exploiting a lousy situation for one's own personal gain. You look for whatever he's selling, shocked to see that it isn't a what but who. Five zeaches sit submissively on tall wooden slabs, electric cuffs extending from their necks to their wrists, and you're sure there's one chaining their ankles together as well. You live by a very specific rule: mind your business and keep it moving. In any other situation, that's precisely what you would do, but you have an extreme revulsion towards slavers. Immensely. $hound finds you, nudging the canteen in your hands, and you take it, securing it to your side as you trek towards the raza dealer.</span> [[Go straight to freeing them.|1.20StraightToFreeing][$approach +=15]] [[Call him out.|1.20CallHimOut]] [[Kindly ask that he does the right thing. Kindly.|1.20Kindly][$approach -=15]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You're not even about to waste your breath and energy on this man. You go straight to one of the zeaches, a female with long rouge, sage, and ginger head feathers that would probably be glistening if they weren't so dirty. You bring up the abacus terminal on your wrist, <<if $smarts >=5 or $tech >=5>>and work to short out the electrical circuit. It's relatively simple. All one has to do is find the right frequency, which is never very high for disruption purposes. The cuffs glitch and open up, freeing the zeach who looks in shock from her now free wrists to you and then to the man who attempted to sell her.<<else>>you would have to short out the electrical circuit, a skill you don't possess in your arsenal. It'll be far easier to just get the keys from the seller.<</if>> "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he questions, and you watch as two figures approach you, security no doubt. Why neither of them consider it too hot to do this is beyond you. The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=5; $weapons +=5]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=5; $tact +=5]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard][$view +=5; $combat +=5]]
<span class ="flashback">"Are you serious, raza?" He spares you a glance, the heartless look escalating as he waves you away, "either buy, rent, or get lost." He snaps his fingers, and you notice a vetix and another raza take a threatening step towards you, warning you to heed one of the man's directions. "Whatever. It's hot as hell, and I got nothing to lose," you admit, patting the side of your leg, and $hound races to it, shifting into a ready-to-attack posture. The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=5; $weapons +=5]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=5]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Hey," you shout, grabbing your pistol and taking it off safety as you point it at his temple. "I'm going to ask nicely that you let them go." "This is your idea of nice?" he questions in shock, looking from your gun to you. You slam the butt of the gun down on his head, using your free hand to grab his shirt and straighten him up. "Yes. Now comply." $hound's growl-like purrs let you know what you already suspected. He has security. What slaver doesn't? The raza guard lunges towards you while the vetix tries to deal with $hound.</span> [[Get this over with. Shoot him.|1.20ShootHim][$attitude -=5; $weapons +=5]] [[Let him tire himself out, no killing.|1.20TireOut][$attitude +=5; $tact +=5]] [[Put him down the fun yet hard way.|1.20FunAndHard][$view +=5; $combat +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++ | Weapons ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You don't have the patience, the energy, the care, the tolerance, and any other excuse that your mind currently doesn't feel like coming up with. Mostly, the sun is your biggest enemy, and if you could shoot at it, you would. Despite seeing that you're armed and being armed himself, the guard doesn't move for his gun, possibly trying to just put you down and escort you away. One's own foolishness has little to do with you. You point your pistol at the guard, and pull the trigger before they realize that they messed up. Despite how close you are to the well, the unfolding and dangerous scene does nothing to those in line. They stand there waiting for their turn as if nothing has happened.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++ | Diplomacy ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Though you have your own thoughts about working with a slaver, you're not really one to cast judgment on the occupations of others. This man is a guard and whether or not it was the best gig he could get isn't a question you feel to ask. There's no need to kill him. He approaches and throws a few punches that you easily dodge. Every punch is deflected, and every kick is pushed away. His throws become clumsy as exhaustion begins to take hold, and his temper flares. Finally, he reaches for his gun, an act you been preparing for. You disarm him as soon as he raises it, waiting for what he'll do next. Thankfully, he simply sighs, and his legs give out as he lays there, trying to regain his breath. You're a bit shocked. You thought he'd go for longer.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++ | Combat ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">He's not reaching for his gun, so you won't go for yours. It seems that today will be another day to self-judge your physical prowess. Those you will one day be facing off against will be at their peak; you must be sure to be at yours. Unfortunately, the raza isn't exactly the best sparring partner. His throws are clumsy, he has no sense of gravity, and his footing makes it easy to trip him. The sun is your greatest adversary, attacking you with its rays and tiring you far more than this man ever could. Once you believe you've gotten a decent workout out of this, you grab his shirt and deliver a series of punches to his face. Three see him unconscious.</span> <<include "1.21">>
<span class ="flashback">Glancing over at the vetix, you find him losing blood rapidly, whimpering as $hound stands over him. <<if $breed is "blood">>Blood aiczeots don't feed purely off of blood, but they do relish the taste. It's like a treat to them and at the moment, $hound is illustrating to all why his species is nicknamed the Vampire Hound. It's a bad way to go, having those teeth rip past flesh savagely. Still, it's his fault for thinking he could take on an aiczeots.<<elseif $breed is "blight">>Drips of acid trickle down $hound's tongue, landing on the sand and causing puffs of smoke to take to the air before disappearing a short time afterward. It's a bad way to go. You personally don't know what the acid feels like and you're fine never finding out.<<elseif $breed is "electric">>At random intervals, the vetix will seize up, a mix of a scream and groan attempting to free itself but never achieving anything. If you don't tell him to stop, he'll end up electrocuting the man to death.<<else>>Blood coats his claws and jaws, proving that he simply clawed and tore the man open.<</if>> With both guards taken care of, you look back at the slaver whose now shivering in his spot. He glances from you to $hound then turns to run.</span> [[Let him go.|1.21FleeChildOfTheSun][$attitude +=3]] [[Shoot him.|1.21BangBangBangCashRegisterSound][$approach -=3; $weapons +=5]] <<if $breed is "chaos" or $breed is "spirit" or $breed is "earth">>\ [[Tell your hound to stop him.|1.21WatchEmWork]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You almost itch to reach for your gun, but you refrain, watching as his figure gets farther and farther away. You're not entirely sure why you let him go. A lack of care or the understanding that more blood doesn't have to coat the sand today. Maybe just wanting to be done with this and not waste a bullet on someone who can't do anything now. Whatever reason, he can count this day as one of luck.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++ | Weapons ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Run. Why do they always choose to run? It's like they somehow forget that you have a ranged weapon on you. Shaking your head, you line the shot up and take it. <<if $weapons >=10>>An easy enough shot. You are used to shooting under pressure and against targets armed and far smarter.<<else>>Thankfully, he hasn't gotten too far away, or you would have had to really concentrate on hitting him.<</if>></span> <<include "1.22">>
<span class ="flashback">You perform a few clicks, and $hound <<if $breed is "chaos">>leaps into action, chasing down his prey. As soon as $hound gets close enough, the man freezes. From afar, it looks like his entire body locks up. The hound stalks closer, circling him as you imagine every predator instinct in his head is going off. The death will be gruesome if you let $hound take care of him.<<elseif $breed is "earth">>trots a ways in front and then grows still. You watch as parts of the sand begin to shift; the more stable areas just crack. One such crack speeds towards the retreating man before it turns to sand. In an instant, the man goes from running to being sucked down into the sand, his feet stuck as he yelps, thrashing to free himself, as $hound stalks towards him.<<else>>flicks his tongue through the air. A low rumble starts in his throat but never makes it out. Glancing back at the fleeing raza, you now spot them now on the ground. He screams as he fights something that isn't there, kicking and throwing punches into the air. To anyone else, the man looks like he's gone crazy, haunted by ethereal demons. But the glowing slits on $hound tells you exactly what's happening. The man fights a moment longer before lying on the ground, his body shivering as he continues to beg. $hound stands, heading towards his downed prey to act on his predator instincts.<</if>></span> [[Let him. The raza deserves it.|1.21Eat][$attitude -=2]] [[Take him out yourself.|1.21MercyKill][$weapons +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You do nothing to stop the hound. It's what the raza deserves after selling others for a mere profit and here, of all places. He would receive nothing but a few measly solars for the zeaches, and he probably knew it. You block out the screams, something you believe everyone else does as they continue on with their business. Once he's done, $hound trots back to your side, licking clean bloody claws.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Weapons ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">That kind of death is sometimes too much. You understood there's nothing you can do to stop it sometimes, but in the moments that you can, you will? You line up the shot and take it before $hound can act, watching as the man falls forward. A few flicks of his tongue and $hound realizes that his prey is no longer alive and loses interest, trotting back to your side.</span> <<include "1.22">>
<span class ="flashback">With that taken care of, you work on freeing the zeaches. You don't know what they'll do now, but you've done your good deed for the week … month, perhaps even year. Five lives have to count for something. You retrieve your canteen and take a gulp of water, preparing to head back to Prourc's shelter when <<if $breed is "chaos" or $breed is "blood" or $breed is "spirit">>$hound bristles beside you, and you hear a terrified screech behind you.<<else>>you hear a low screech behind you, both you and $hound pausing.<</if>> Turning, <<if hasVisited("1.20StraightToFreeing")>>you see the zeach that you first freed, the one with the sage and rouge feathering.<<else>>you see a zeach following you. She's pretty, but that's not an odd trait for zeaches. Long rouge, sage, and ginger feathers decorate her head, some bent in directions you don't think zeach feathers should bend.<</if>> "Yes?" you question, patting $hound's side to calm him down. He bristles one last time before sitting with what almost sounds like a huff. "Thank you," she speaks, clearing her throat to rid herself of the fear that still clings to her vocal cords. "For freeing me." <<if $attitude >=60>>"You're welcome. Good luck out there."<<elseif $attitude <=40>>"Yea? Now go away."<<else>>"No problem. Goodbye now."<</if>> "Where am I supposed to go?" "Anywhere but here. Go join one of your newly freed zeach friends."</span> <a data-passage="1.22.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"I'd rather stick beside you." You want to growl, but any vocal emotion like that will only set $hound off. "Why?" She blinks a few times, cocking her head to the side as it's now her turn to look at you as if you're silly. "Why? Did you forget that you just took down three men as if it were nothing?" "Ah," you sing, "you want protection." "I can be useful." "I'm sure you can," you laugh, "but not so much out here. Prove me wrong, but I never met a zeach that can properly hold a gun, let alone fight." Her silence tells you that she indeed can't do either. You hum, turning to walk away again, but the sound of her footsteps causes you to once again come to a stop. You don't want to threaten the woman, but you find that it may come down to it. "I can be useful." She repeats, cutting you off to stand valiantly in front of you. "What's it going to take to get you out of my face?" A lack of a reply causes you to snort. "Be useful someplace else. I don't need extra baggage." You walk away, sighing internally at the feeling of a presence behind you. Just ignore her, you tell yourself. She'll get the picture sooner or later.</span> <a data-passage="1.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
From then on, you found that the steadfast zeach did not get the picture. She scares easily, but her determination causes her to repeatedly come back. You suppose you have only yourself to blame. The most you did was threaten to shoot her without ever pointing the gun at her or even firing a warning shot. And the more she was around, the more $hound got used to her presence, and soon, so did you. Days turned to weeks, and names were exchanged. Weeks to months and vague plans and goals were shared and agreed upon. A month to a year, and still here the two of you stand, together. Most would thus classify Checl as a friend. But you were neither insane nor an idiot. Your last 'friend' had far more years under his belt and he gladly betrayed you. Checl may not seem as clever or vindictive, but neither did Tsering. Your mind rejoins the now, and you look at Checl, who is patiently waiting for an answer, though you believe she has already come to terms with not receiving one. [[“We should discuss our leaving.”|1.23DiscussLeaving][$open -=5; $checl +=3]] [[“You know the answer to that.”|1.23KnowTheAnswer][$open +=5; $checl -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> Clearing your throat, you nod to the solars. "So we <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>need a few more solars to get out of here. Any idea on something quick?"<<else>>have enough to get out of here. Should we do it as soon as possible?"<</if>> <<include "1.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "It's because you've known me for so long that I expect you to know the answer to your own question. If I thought you were something to get rid of, then I would have done it long ago." You smirk, nudging her in what you hope is a playful manner, "you're way too much trouble to keep around for no reason." Her frown deepens, and though she doesn't exactly point out what you say that upsets her, her reluctance is enough to tell you that your words have done nothing but make it worse. You were never good at this. Or maybe once upon a time, you were. You had three younger siblings that constantly earned both your wrath and tenderness. The thing is, you aren't who you were decades ago. You aren't even who you were a year ago. This life demands change for one to survive. You refuse to feel bad about that. Shaking your head, you motion to the solars. "So we <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>need a few more solars to get out of here. Any idea on something quick?"<<else>>have enough to get out of here. Should we do it as soon as possible?"<</if>> <<include "1.24">>
<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>"We can head down to the markets tomorrow. Maybe Prourc will buy some things off of us." You've been meaning to visit the zeach for a while. You nod, letting her know that you agree with the plan.<<else>>"Yes. I'd like to get out of here sooner rather than later. Especially with what's happening with the gangs." You nod. It's understandable. <</if>> "I'll speak to Zihr about it all. Make sure we're all on the same page." She heads towards the door that belongs to her bedroom, pausing before going inside to turn to you. "Goodnight, $name." "Yea, goodnight." Her words echo in your head for a few minutes more. You want to argue that this is Checl. She doesn't possess a betraying bone, but that was never the problem with Checl. Another lesson you learned a long time ago relates to her situation. Simply put, one day, she will leave and won't return. Caring, getting closer, becoming familiar. Any of those situations will cause that disappearance to hurt. It will burrow so deep within your heart and being that you'll forget how to breathe and remember the days when you first learned this lesson. So, you will do the obvious thing and avoid it altogether. Getting to your feet, you walk towards your room, not sleepy but knowing that tomorrow will require you to be alert and at your best. <a data-passage="1.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You sit on a derelict bench, your eyes on the thick, purple, and blue haze rising a few miles in the distance. The sounds of gunfire and explosions are constant, along with distant shouts and screams. Standing only a few feet away is Zihr, watching the same thing as you, and you're thankful for his silence. <<if $souvenir is "jacket">>You fiddle with the zipper of your jacket, only stopping when you think about how easy it may be to break the zipper. You're not nervous, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<elseif $souvenir is "necklace" or $souvenir is "scarf">>You fiddle with your $souvenir, only stopping when your brain picks up how nervous it makes you appear. You're not anxious, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<elseif $souvenir is "hat">>You fiddle with your hat, spinning it in your hand as well as throwing it back and forth before you finally pause, realizing how nervous it makes you seem. You're not anxious, just bored and wishing to distract yourself.<<else>><</if>> "What's going on?" Checl asks, finally coming down the ladder and rushing to your side. Neither of you answer. There's no need when the sight supplies her with all the understanding she needs. "Let's go," Zihr sighs, pushing off the building and walking down the path that leads to the <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>markets.<<else>>shuttle.<</if>> The area is war-torn, with buildings that have already been falling apart now wholly collapsed. The deeper you go, the more bodies you find littering the ground. Some of them bare gang markings, but many others don't. Nightbeasts leave no proof of their prey, but the fighting had to have happened as soon as the sun peeked into the sky for these many bodies to be strewn about. "Alright, enough." The two of you turn to look at Zihr, who glares straight at you. "You're telling me this doesn't bother you?" <<if $attitude >=60>>"Can we just continue on?"<<elseif $attitude <=40>>"You stopping bothers me. Can we continue?"<<else>>"Get to your point, Zihr."<</if>> "All of this -" "Isn't new," you growl, cutting him off. "This isn't the first gang war the Dreads have seen, and after all of this ends and goes back to normal, it won't be the last." "That's not the point," he stresses. "You start things like this war and act like it was needed for the greater good. As if you did everyone a favor." "Hey, if you want to stay behind and help clean it up, be my guest. But I'm getting out of here, no matter the state. So are you coming or going?" You already know the answer, so without waiting for it, you turn and continue on. [[It does bother you.|1.25DoesBotherYou][$approach +=3]] [[You didn't mean for this, but it happened.|1.25DidntMeanForThis]] <<if not hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>[[You got what you wanted.|1.25GotWhatYouWanted][$approach -=3]]<</if>>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Your goals and ideals haven't changed but their foundations may crumble.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> Of course it bothers you. You aren't a monster. But you also know that this isn't your fault. You don't make a habit of lying to yourself. It isn't good for a psyche already fucked over and abused. You'll gladly admit to being the catalyst. The uncontrolled variable that sparked two groups to go head to head. But that is where the blame ceases. These two groups needed a reason, and they chose you. If they cared for peace, a few shots would have been the extent. Hell, they would realize neither group is at fault and team up to come after you if peace had been on anyone's mind. <<include "1.26">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You remain dedicated to your goals and ideals but they stand on rocky ground.<</notify>><</if>>\ Zihr's issue is that he expects you to be devastated. Somewhere in the corner, sobbing over all the spilled blood and how it relates to you. Your plan didn't call for this, nor did you mean for it to happen. But it did. And that is simply all there is to it. Crying, feeling bad, and even expressing concern isn't going to change it. And if the only reason you give a voice to such emotions is to gratify Zihr, then in the end, it still doesn't mean anything. <<include "1.26">>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>You remain dedicated to your goals and ideals.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> This entire plan was to help you get the needed amount of solars to get out of here, and you did. You succeeded and are now one step closer to your goal. Whether that's what Zihr or anyone else wants to hear, that is what you care about. The actions of others are never your fault. You didn't make them hate each other, nor did you make them shoot each other. If blaming you makes them feel better, they can place it upon you. You don't care. You aren't about to feel bad, regardless. <<include "1.26">>
<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ Continuing, you turn one last corner and pass under a large, derelict archway until you find yourself at your destination, the marketplace. It's less crowded than usual due to the war plaguing the nearby area. You part from Zihr and Checl, weaving through the bulky crowd, finally stopping at Prourc's stall. The alien in question has his back to you, enthusiastically dealing with a potential customer. "Prourc," you greet as he turns to face you. "$name. If you have something for me, then it's the worse time." He watches as the customer drifts off and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "This gang drama is about to put you out of business?" "No one wants exotic items when they're concerned with survival." <a data-passage="1.27Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ Continuing, you arrive at your destination and find that you aren't the only ones with the idea. Though it's an exaggeration, you feel like the entire Dreads population has gathered here, hoping to get on the lone shuttle sitting a few feet away. As you draw closer, you see some banging for the doors to open. The shuttle's window tint disallows you from seeing the faces that are safe within if there is anyone, but you're sure they all are more than grateful for the physical barrier. "What's going on here?" Checl asks aloud, regardless of the answer being obvious. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveNone")>>\ Zihr pins you to the spot with his glare. "It looks like actions have consequences." "Agreed." You turn your head towards the new voice and see a group peel themselves off from the darkness to approach; leading them is your accomplice. "I'm surprised you're not dead," you mention, ignoring your brain as it chides you on the fact that you should've been the one to make sure of that. It's not about being nice or keeping your hands free of blood, it's about being smart. "You know, since you betrayed that gang and all." "I found a group that wants you dead just as bad as me." [[“I'm honored.”|1.27Honored][$humor +=3]] [[“And I know none of your names.”|1.27AndYouDontKnowMyName][$view +=3]] [[“You think I'm scared of you?”|1.27ScaredOfYou][$emotion +=3]] [[“And speaking is off the table?”|1.27NoSpeakingForDinna][$coercer +=1; $tact +=3]] [[Sigh.|1.27DeepSigh][$humor -=3]] [[Stare on.|1.27StaringPastYourTomFoolery][$emotion -=3]] <<else>>\ Zihr pins you to the spot with his glare. "It looks like actions have consequences." Ignoring him, you push past the crowd to the front where the ticket master stands. "Pushing your way to the front won't get you on that shuttle any faster," he tells you. "We have our passports and ID already. As well as the solars needed," Checl tells the man as she rejoins you. He rolls his eyes. "Yea, you and every other regretful fool. Look, the shuttle will leave and come back like it always does. Be here if you want out that bad and hope you get a spot." "So, rely on luck or die?" Zihr questions, and for once, you're happy he's giving someone else the treatment. "You think I have enough care for every one of you sorry saps? I don't. You should've already tried to get out of this shit-hole. Not my fault you choose the worse possible time." There's not much more you can do or say, so you step to the side where $hound rests. <<if $breed is "electric">>You have to snap to regain his attention, his tongue flashing through the air and you can practically envision all the chaos he's thinking about starting. <</if>>You watch as your previous position in line is taken by another, everyone begging the ticket master for a spot on a shuttle that is already starting the process of taking off. It isn't until it's high in the sky and flying off into the distance that the once restless crowd simmers down and departs, shoulders drooping as they figure out how to live another day. You could do the same, hoping you arrive early enough to get on the shuttle, but you doubt that will change much. Now that everyone knows what a seat out of here costs, they'll do anything to grab one. <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
"I have a weapon I can give you. Ammo included." "Deal. I'll give you sixty solars." "For the weapon by itself?" "For all of it." Your eyes narrow. Prourc isn't stupid, and though he's a swindler like any of these other sellers, he knows well enough not to try and rope you into his games. That deal is preposterous, not even something the cheapest vendors here would utter. At most, they'd just tell you to leave. Perhaps he has a good reason for such a low number. But then that brings into question how much you care about that so-called good reason. Accepting is relying on Zihr and Checl to make up the difference, and you have a thing against relying on others. [[Agree to the deal.|1.27AgreeDeal][$solars +=60]] [[Time to haggle.|1.27Haggle][$solars +=95; $persuade +=10]] [[Walk away.|1.27WalkAway][$solars +=90; $persaude -=10]]
You trust Prourc. You've been doing business with the zeach since you've made the Dreads your temporary home. If sixty solars is all he will offer, it'll be sixty solars. You extend your hand and accept the deal. <<include "1.28Market">>
"Seriously? You want to do this?" The feathered creature shrugs his shoulder as he looks into your astonished eyes. You poke your bottom lip out in thought, glancing at the weapons in your bag and then moving to walk away. "What are you doing?" "Sweeten the deal, or I find someone who won't cheat me." "Hardly anyone is buying now, $name. Even weapons won't net you the same amount." "Let's test that out then." He squints. "Ninety solars. That's as high as I will go. I swear, $name." "Ninety-five." He curses, his talons puncturing the wood as he mumbles a few words that your translator can't properly catch. "Deal." You shake his hand, and though you smile, he doesn't seem as pleased as you pass the weapons over to him. <<include "1.28Market">>
You don't even possess the energy to snort at the outrageous price he offered. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders and prepare to go. It may take a bit longer, but you could even try and sell directly to people. "You think someone will offer more?" he questions. "Sweeten the deal or I find out," you growl, your lip curling as you look down your nose at the man. "Ninety solars. And I'm not going any higher than that." You're bluffing, of course. You doubt anyone will give you more. And so, you nod, shaking a scowling Prourc's hand before handing over the weapon and ammo. <<include "1.28Market">>
"Now that business has been concluded. Are you going to tell me how you managed this?" "Managed what?" He gives you a knowing look, and you stutter out a gasp. "Why does everyone think this is my fault?" "In my two long years of being here, I have only met one individual with the skill set to get two gangs to immediately go to war with one another and then walk away as if it's nothing. And ?he<<verb "'s" "'re">> standing before me." "Well, when you say it like that, I feel like I have to take responsibility." "That and I did give you the information about the caches a few weeks ago." You snort along with a chuckling Prourc and shrug your shoulders. "I needed the location and inside look at the gang's base. The only way I could do that quickly was by getting captured. Only way I could think of getting out of it was by giving them a bigger target to shoot." <a data-passage="1.28Market.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You were successful at the very least?" "Of course." He nods<<if $approach >=60>>, and though there is no hint of judgement you feel a pang in your chest. You got what you wanted but innocent lives are still being lost.<<else>>, and you smile to yourself. At least one person understands that as long as your goal is met, it's a success.<</if>> "How long until you're out of here?" "Probably a couple more weeks. I need a hundred or so more solars to finally have all I need to go." "If tensions keep growing, you might not have that." He nods. "I know." When you found yourself stuck here, Prourc helped you. Of course, it wasn't for free. The two of you have always had a silent agreement that nothing you do for one another is free, but the work wasn't bad and gave you something to do. Saying you trusted him would be going against your own rules and self-placed boundaries, but you did rely on him, and he's been nothing but helpful. In a place where friends are hard to make and even harder to keep, he's been there. Every solar now counts for something, and though that's been true since the beginning, there is now a clock ticking down to worry about. The bag of solars in your hand gets heavier. [[And it'll stay that heavy.|1.28StayThatHeavy]] <<if hasVisited("1.27AgreeDeal")>>[[Offer to help him.|1.28OfferHelp]]<<else>>[[Give him back the solars.|1.28GiveBackSolars]]<</if>>
At the end of the day, it all sounds like a personal problem. He didn't ask for you to go butting into his business, and you find that the easiest way to survive and thrive is to keep your nose in your own. He has more things to sell, and he can surcharge. He'll be fine. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Look," you start, "maybe I can -" "Can do nothing," he finishes for you. His tone is stern, but the soft gratitude in his eyes tells you that he appreciates you for caring. "I can handle it myself. I'm not the only one trying to get out of here." That much is true, making your so-called trading partnership all the more strange. You take money from him so that he can make money from someone else, so you can again take that money. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Here," you start, beginning to shake the solars free from their pouch when Prourc produces a snort-like caw. "Keep your solars, $name." His tone is stern, but the soft gratitude in his eye tells you that he appreciates you for caring. "I can handle it myself. I'm not the only one trying to get out of here." That much is true, making your so-called trading partnership all the more strange. You take money from him so that he can make money from someone else, so you can again take that money. <<include "1.29Market">>
"Now, with all that settled, shoo. You'll scare off actual paying customers." "How you figure that?" The zeach stares at you, each prolonged second making you grin wider. "You have what they call ... a listening problem." You lean against the large stall, grabbing the nearest item, which happens to be a spherical device. "No, I just pay more attention to the things you don't say." "Ah, like 'continue speaking' and 'come again.'" "Exactly." "$name." "Okay." You raise your hands in surrender as you return the ball and secure your pack and solars pouch. With a simple wave goodbye, you leave Prourc to his screeching and chart a path to the edge of the markets where you agreed to meet back up with the others. From there, the sounds of fighting grow louder, and the smoke rising off buildings is easier to pinpoint. You wonder how much of the Dreads will be left standing in a week. This isn't the first gang war to ever grace the area. A few years before you arrived, one claimed the area, both gangs, and left those still alive to figure out where to go. No doubt, the same thing will happen again. And then new gangs will emerge, tempers will flare, and the Dreads will see another selfish grab for power. It will happen. The question is simply when. <a data-passage="1.30Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You arrive to find that only Checl has beaten you. Her back-and-forth pacing causes your eyebrow to raise as you come and stand in her path. She squawks but otherwise remains calm, patting down arm feathers that don't require the action in the first place. "I'm all over the place, I know, you don't have to say it." "Then I won't. Did you manage to sell anything?" "Yes and no," she sighs, hanging her head in what you would think is a dramatic fashion if it wasn't for whose doing it. Checl simply is the type to hang her head when she believes she has done something worthy of disappointment. "I told the merchant at least fifteen solars, but then they kept asking me questions and making me feel bad, and somewhere I agreed that five solars is enough." [[“Disappointed but not surprised.”|1.30DisappointedNotSurprised][$checl -=3]] [[“There's haggling and then there's that.”|1.30ThatAintHaggling]] [[“So we're relying on Zihr. Great.”|1.30RelyingOnZihr]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You have to use that face more often.”|1.30SheBeCute][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“You have to use that face more often.”|1.30SheBeCute][$checlRo -=5; $checlRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“It'll be fine.”|1.30BeFine][$checl +=3]]
"Gotta say, Checl, I'm disappointed but not surprised." "I much rather you be neither," she grumbles, which has the same energy as your kind but causes her voice to go up a few octaves instead of lower. Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sign of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"There's haggling, and then there's whatever you did. You should've just given them the items for free." "Five solars is better than nothing." You snort. "Yea when you need pocket change. We need forty or fifty solars." "And if what you and Zihr's solars put together makes only thirty-five or forty-five?" You gesture to your surroundings. "I can steal the remaining amount in a second. It's not hard." She pouts. "Well, you won't have to because I already have it." Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sign of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"So we're relying on Zihr to supply most of the solars. Great." "That's not a bad thing, right?" "It's Zihr. He isn't going to shut up about how the final contribution was all because of him." "You know he only acts that way around you. When it's just him and me, he's quite humble." "Next, you're going to tell me that he's a sweetheart, and I'm just the lucky terran that gets all of his pent-up rage." She opens her mouth, but Zihr's appearance causes her mouth to close. "Here," he tells her, handing the pouch over, "and no, $name. You're just the annoying terran that grinds my nerves." "<<if $zihrRo <=50>>Keep talking sweet and I'll grind more than that," you smirk, instantly glancing away and behaving as if you said nothing. Once he seems to drop his curiosity, you hand your pouch to Checl. She adds<<else>>Good to know that our species are learning to get along." You hand over your own pouch as well, waiting for Checl to add<</if>> everything together, and with a deep exhale, she nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"Checl, Checl, Checl," you repeat as you make a tsk sound, "you gotta learn to use that pretty face of yours more often." "Stop trying to ruffle my feathers." "I'm guessing that means something else in zeach culture?" She cocks her head to the side. "Terrans have no feathers. Why would it be used in your language?" "The same reason you have the phrase 'bogfish nosy' in yours." She nods in understanding, and you see signs of her feathers beginning to frazzle. "Then probably." Clearing her throat, she nods to an approaching Zihr. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sign of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"It's okay, Checl. The amount Zihr and I bring will either be enough or won't, and we'll just have to pick some pockets." "I'd rather that not be our resort," she admits, and though you decide not to respond, you raise a brow. If that's her goal, you'd think she'd do something proactive to meet it instead of selling everything she had for five solars. But again, you keep it to yourself. No need to make matters worse than what they currently are. Either way, Zihr's appearance brings whatever else there is to say to an end. "Here," he says, tossing Checl the solars pouch that he gained. She fumbles, glaring at Zihr, who shows no sign of being phased. "Do we have enough?" "Can you give me a moment to count?" Checl questions, waiting until Zihr backs off to start. You allow her this moment, waiting patiently off to the side until Checl lets out a deep exhale and nods. <<include "1.31Market">>
"Let's not waste time then." You lead the way to the shuttle area with the others on your heels as each shout and explosion causes you to quicken your pace. Continuing, you get to your destination and find that you aren't the only ones with the idea. Though it's an exaggeration, you feel like the entire Dreads population has gathered here, hoping to get on the lone shuttle sitting a few feet away. The doors are closed, and as you draw closer, you can see some people banging for them to open. The window tint disallows you from seeing the faces that are safe within if there is anyone within, but you're sure they all are more than grateful for the physical barrier. <a data-passage="1.32Market"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You push past the crowd to the front, where the ticket master stands. "Pushing your way to the front won't get you on that shuttle any faster," he tells you. "We have our passports and ID already. As well as the solars needed," Checl tells the man as she gets to your side. He rolls his eyes. "Yea, you and every other regretful fool. Look, the shuttle will leave and come back like it always does. Be here if you want out that bad and hope you get a spot." "So, rely on luck or die?" Zihr questions, and for once, you're happy he's giving someone else the treatment. "You think I have enough care for every one of you sorry saps? I don't. You should've tried to get the hell out of this shit-hole. Not my fault you choose the worse possible time." There's not much more you can do or say, so you step to the side where $hound rests. You watch as your previous place is just taken by another, everyone begging the ticket master for a spot on a shuttle that is already taking off. It isn't until it's high in the sky and flying off into the distance that the once restless crowd simmers down and departs, shoulders drooping as they figure out how to live another day. You could do the same, hoping you arrive early enough to get on the shuttle, but you doubt that will change much. Now that everyone knows what a seat out of here costs, they'll do anything to grab one. <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Oh, I'm honored. Who knew I had quite the budding fan club. Zihr, you sure you don't want to join? You may even be able to get the president's seat." He rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. You're a headache but wishing you dead has never been a thought." "So sweet," you smirk, placing your attention back on the group before you. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> "And here I am, knowing none of your names. This is starting to feel awkward." Your accomplice looks at you in confusion. "You think this is a game?" "No. A game would mean that I'm having fun. I'm just annoyed now." <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Emotional ++</span><</if>> "As my grimacing friend here likes to constantly remind me, I started a gang war with no amount of sympathy or compassion. Do you really think that I'm scared of you?" "We can count that as your second mistake." "Only second? With how my day is going, I at least thought I'd be on my fifth." <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++ | Diplomacy ++</span><</if>> "And I'm guessing that talking this out and coming to some kind of compromise is off the table?" "What do you think?" he growls. "You threw that in the trash when you left me on the rooftop." "With your life, I'd like to point out. I could have easily buried a bullet in your back." "And that's exactly what you should've done. Your own stupidity isn't my fault." That almost makes you snort. He speaks of stupidity when he's the one who walked straight into his own massacre, not only willingly but confidently. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> Nothing is ever simple. In fact, you would love to sit and think about when the last uncomplicated thing was. You need to reach Goal A, and the way to do that is simply by following Plan A. No need to complicate things with more plans or spacing out goals. It's there, and you reach it. Oh yes, that sounds nice. A dream that will never be a reality, but nice is nice. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Detached ++</span><</if>> You take a moment to look over each of them, hoping to spot something that will make a confrontation worthwhile. But nothing. What you see is just a bunch of solars-hungry individuals that somehow have a bone to pick with you. You look over how they carry themselves, their expressions, and even their weapons. It's always odd when someone walks towards their death cockily, primarily due to their ignorance of not knowing. They believe that numbers alone will save them; perhaps they're not wrong. Anyone can have a bad day or a lucky shot. But those are variables you can't change. Percentages far too low to so readily be willing to throw one's life away for. <<include "1.28Shuttle">>
"I want my solars. And not just the ones we agreed on. All of it." "That's a big demand. I counter it with a simple, no." He motions to the seven people behind him. "You're outnumbered." "Negatory. My hound here can take three of you, four on a good day. And I can handle three of you, and that's without a weapon. With a weapon, well, let's just say you're not even worth the ammo." "I want my solars," he repeats, taking a threatening step closer, and all of his friends take their guns off safety. You stare at the man, refusing to drop eye contact. <a data-passage="1.29Shuttle"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You huff to yourself. You suppose there's no way to avoid all of this, then. "Checl. Satchel." "What? $name." "Checl. Give me the satchel." You hold out your hand, waiting to feel the harsh leather. Still not breaking eye contact, you drop the satchel between your two groups. "Want it. Get it." Though the others shift, unsure if this remains a good idea, your second-long accomplice wastes no time in reaching for it. His hand barely grasps the strap when you act, surging forward and bringing your knee to his face as you pull the blade strapped to your side and plunge it into his abdomen. You roll to the side just as one of his buddies shoots at you, and thus, the area descends into chaos. People scream and shout as they run whichever way they can, trampling any that end up being unfortunate enough to fall. You head for the closest cover, which proves to be the shuttle itself. $hound is right beside you, loyal in his refusal to move but ready for you to send him out. With your back against the warmth of the metal, you bring out your pistol and check the ammo. "Fuck," Zihr growls, sliding into the spot beside you. He fires a few rounds of his own weapon before glaring at you. <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I fucked the last person who looked at me like that.”|1.29IBeFuckinHoeeeeesssssss][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“I fucked the last person who looked at me like that.”|1.29IBeFuckinHoeeeeesssssss][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“About to spill your heart out to me?”|1.29TellMeYouLoveMeZihr][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“About to spill your heart out to me?”|1.29TellMeYouLoveMeZihr][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“What!?”|1.29WhatZihrWhat]] [[“Yes, I know.”|1.29YesIKnowIKnow]] [[“This isn't my fault!”|1.29NotMyFault]] [[Ignore him.|1.29IgnoreHim]]
"Careful now, Zihr," you snort, finished with the inspection process of your gun. "The last person who looked at me like that ended up with me fucking their brains out." "For once in your life, think." "Fucking doesn't require thinking." "And shut up!" he roars, but you can do nothing more than chuckle. He should make teasing him a far less amusing sport or at least give you less to work with. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
"You're looking at me like you're about to spill your heart out." "Why would I ever do such a thing?" You snort, finished with the inspection process of your gun. "You tell me. I had a feeling all that hatred was coming from a place of admiration." "Can you focus?" he hisses, and you can do nothing more than chuckle. He should make teasing him a far less amusing sport or at least give you less to work with. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You have to do a double take at his face, and once you do, the irritation of dealing with him bubbles to the surface. "What, Zihr? What?!" "Just wondering if the brilliant $name has a plan or if this is another one of those improvising moments." "The plan is not get shot. Simple enough for you?" "More like undeveloped." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
"Yea, yea," you snort, finishing up your gun's inspection, "I should be nicer, stop making enemies wherever I go. All of this is my fault. Every little thing in the world can be easily placed on my shoulders because it somehow has to be my fault. Does that about cover what you were going to say?" He shrugs. "You said nothing about how idiotic you are, and I do believe that is a good point to bring up." "Of course. I'll make a mental note for later." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You do a double take upon realizing that Zihr is both looking at you and blaming you for the events that have just occurred. You're flabbergasted, attempting to speak, but words fail to fall together coherently. "What?! This isn't my fault!" "Do you truly believe that, or is that just what you tell yourself so that you feel better?" "Explain to me how this is my fault?" "It would be easier to explain how it //isn't// your fault." <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
It tickles to know that you can be in the middle of a fight, and still, Zihr will find the time to, oh so skillfully, place the blame on your shoulders. It's not totally your fault. You didn't tell the man nor make the man choose this path. He could've accepted his fate and decided to leave it at that. But no, instead, here you stand. <<include "1.30Shuttle">>
You're unable to say or do anything more when you hear a familiar screech and glance to see Checl a few yards away. She gets your attention and points to the satchel resting where you had dropped it. Now in the dead center of your current firefight. "The satchel!" Before you can stop her, she rushes forward. "For fu—Zihr, lay down cover fire." "One of us should go grab her." "I know that." [[Grab her.|1.30GrabHer][$injury_leg to true; $attitude +=5; $checlLo +=1; $heart +=1]] [[Tell Zihr to grab her.|1.30ZihrGrabHer][$gut +=1]] [[Have her be bait.|1.30CheclBait][$attitude -=5; $checlLo -=1; $mind +=1]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "You ready?" you ask Zihr, who responds with a simple nod. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you wait until the perfect moment and then charge forward. You can hear the gunfire, but you're fine as long as you're not feeling anything. You make it to Checl easily, and before she can do anything else you deem stupid, you grab and pull her towards the small box the ticket agent had once occupied. A sharp pain rides your leg, but you have no time to dwell on it and continue dragging the zeach to cover. "The hell is wrong with you?" you growl after the two of you are secure. "$name!" she shouts, covering her mouth in shock, her eyes on your pant's leg where you're sure a red splotch is present and growing. "Not the first I've gotten shot at before." "I'm so sorry," she starts to gaze around for something, continuing to whisper under her voice about how careless she is and how this is her fault. [[“Focus.”|1.30Focus][$humor -=3]] [[“It's your fault, now move on.”|1.30YourFaultKMoveOn][$checl -=3]] [[“Wasn't I the one shot?”|1.30IWasShotTho][$humor +=3; $checl +=3]] [[“I'm okay, alright?”|1.30ImOkayAlright][$checl +=3]] [[Ignore her.|1.30IgnoringHer][$checl -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "Hey!" you shout, going an extra step by clapping in her face. Despite how rude the action may have been, it does its job and gets her to quiet down and place her full attention on you. "You can freak out later. Right now, I need you to focus. Okay?" She blinks a few times but finally nods. "Good to hear. Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" You take a peek around the corner, seeing no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Yes, it's your fault that I was shot. Can we move on now?" Your words seem to get through to her and snap her out of the self-pitying field trip she was putting herself through. She stiffens and gives you an agreeing nod. "Good. Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" You take a peek around the corner, seeing no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Humor ++</span><</if>> "Wasn't I the one shot, or did I miss something along the way?" Checl's too confused to answer, so you continue. "Because I'm fine, and you're the one whining right now." "You're right," she sighs, nodding her head in acceptance and murmuring an apology. "I know. Stay here and keep your head down and protect that satchel." She answers with firm acknowledgment as you take a peek around the corner. You see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Checl," you turn to her, grabbing her chin so that she'd stop murmuring to herself and focus on you. "I'm okay. Alright?" She doesn't say or do anything for a while, finally nodding once she understands that you're not on the floor, screaming for help. "Now. Stay here and keep your head down and that satchel safe. Okay?" This time she reacts immediately, firmly agreeing to your words as you take a peek. You see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
You leave her to whatever self-pitying moment she has decided to have at the most inopportune moment. Taking a peek around the corner, you see no sign of Zihr, which means that he may still be taking cover on the other side of the shuttle. Seeing that it hasn't taken off yet, you're betting that it's currently empty or those on board are horribly frightened, and common sense has abandoned them. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
"Zihr, do you mind?" If he does, he stays quiet about it as he readjusts his stance to allow him to push off faster. "Ready?" he asks you and you nod. He launches himself forward and simultaneously you peek out to lay down cover fire. You hear someone shout out in pain, perhaps telling you that you got one. <<include "1.31Shuttle">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> While trying to figure out which one of you should rush out to save your helpless and nonplussed friend, you notice your attackers peeking out. They realize what she's about to do, and though they don't immediately prepare to fire, you can already tell what their plan is. Your strategic mind rushes into play, breaking down every possible way it can go without giving you a headache. In essence, there are two ways this can go without counting interference from you or Zihr. One, they shoot at her, and that's it. Two, they try to use cells in a brain they have already proven they don't have and use her as a hostage. Simply getting the satchel isn't enough, especially since they could've picked it up and made a run for it before you stabbed their leader. Pride, you think to yourself and suppress a chuckle. It's always been an ally. Whether others knew it or not. "I'll get her," Zihr tells you, shifting to get ready to charge out there. You yank on his shirt, causing his balance to veer, and he sways to the side, his glare narrowing on you. "Not yet," you tell him. Despite how often you say Zihr is stupid, he's remarkably astute … for someone so stupid. It doesn't take long for him to figure out your plan, and thus comes the vocal disagreements. Thankfully, you had prepared for such a thing and were already blocking him out, your eyes fastened on the others. He'll be moving to rescue Checl again soon. By then, your plan should already go into effect. Of course, that all hinges on just how smart your assailants are. If they don't take the bait or choose to simply shoot Checl instead, then none of this will matter. You go over mental probabilities one last time, optimistic that they'll take the bait. And, as if not wishing to make you wait any longer, they do exactly what you hope. Two of them move from their spot, the others peeking out to lay down cover. At the same time, you command $hound to go. He'll easily take out the two that have left their position while you pick off the two that have shown themselves. The ringing of their screams joins the cackling fire that comes off of the shuttle. It seems no one will be leaving by shuttle anytime soon. You pocket your gun with a sigh, only coming out of your own thoughts when you hear your name. "$name?" Checl asks, gazing at you in shock and fright. "What the hell was that?" Zihr shouts through clenched teeth, looking Checl over before directing all of his ire at you. [[“Strategy?”|1.30StrategyMyDearWatson][$zihr +=3]] [[“Be more specific.”|1.30MeDontKnowWhatYouMean][$zihr -=3]] [[“I used my resources.”|1.30UseYourResourcesStudents][$zihr -=5]] [[Ignore him.|1.30IgnoringZihrTimeAgain]]
"Strategy?" you question more than answer, picking up the satchel. He points to the destroyed shuttle. "That's strategy? You destroyed our one way out of here." You glance over at it, not exactly pleased about the state of it, but you hardly consider it your only way out. <<include "1.28">>
You gaze at him, hardly having the energy or care to keep the eye contact going. "You'll have to be more specific, Zihr." "You used Checl as bait," he growls angrily, pointing to the shuttle next. "You blew up our only way out of here!" You glance over at it, not exactly pleased about the state of it, but you hardly consider it your only way out. <<include "1.28">>
You shrug, extending the action with a well-needed stretch. "I used my resources knowing what I was doing. She's still here, right?" Checl avoids eye contact with everyone, and Zihr uses that as proof that what you did is wrong. Though, you never did say it was right. "And blowing up the shuttle? Was that using your resources too?" Your eyes dash to the side, unable to miss the ablaze shuttle that sits there. You wonder if this will be pinned on the gangs as well. It fit in so well. <<include "1.28">>
Both companions knew what you did and why. Explaining yourself isn't something you care to do or feel you have time for. If they want an apology, they could ask for that instead. No guarantee they'll receive it, but it's better than skating around the edge in hopes they'll get a reason that pleases them. <<include "1.28">>
<<if hasVisited("1.30ZihrGrabHer")>>\ "$name," Checl shouts, "the shuttle. Move!" You glance at your cover and notice the back end of it on fire. Of course, you sigh. The small building where the ticket collector was is close, but the angle is a death sentence. You'll simply be waiting for someone to approach instead of taking on a more proactive shooting role. You may have a few more minutes before this thing explodes, enough time to think of a proper plan. Explosion. "Zihr!" you shout, "got any 'nades?" "One," he shouts back. One is all you need. You should've done this to start with. You time your run, and dart out after your attackers take a break to reload or recharge. <<else>>\ "Zihr," Checl shouts, "the shuttle. Move!" You glance over at the area that was once your cover and notice the back end of it on fire. Of course, you sigh. You had hoped to not be stuck right here. Your current angle is a death sentence. You'll simply be waiting for someone to approach instead of taking on a more proactive shooting role. You may have a few more minutes before this thing explodes, enough time to think of a proper plan. Explosion. "Zihr!" you shout, "got any 'nades?" "One," he shouts back. One is all you need. You should've done this to start with. He times his run and comes to a stop in front of you. <</if>>\ "What are you thinking?" he questions, handing the grenade over. "What do you think? I make bad guys go boom." He snorts, doubt laced into his tone. "You think your aim is that good?" "Hell yea," you smirk, prepping it and starting the countdown process. You frown, turning towards Zihr, who simply watches you. "What's the countdown for this?" "Why didn't you ask that before now?" he shouts, his eyes wide as he glances from it to you. "I'm asking it now," you yell right back. "I don't know!" he screams, lunging for it, but you move him out of the way. Most grenades are on a five-second timer, and though there are a good number of ones that don't work on such a timer, your hand didn't wish to test that theory. Either this will work, or they will throw it back or have enough time to move. You throw it, and before it can even make an impact, it blows up. Luckily, it blows up just in time to kill all those unfortunate enough to be near it. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as the danger has passed. You get to your feet right as the shuttle explodes, and you're thrown to the ground. Your ears ring viciously, and your body hisses in pain. The sensation doesn't dim until a few minutes later, and even then, your body tells you that it may be wiser to simply stay where you are. Attempting to focus on the world around you, you notice both of your companion's ears bleeding while $hound seems completely fine. To be earless, you think. At least your assailants are dead. <a data-passage="1.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What are we going to do now?" Checl questions, clutching the satchel's strap tightly and glancing from you to Zihr. "We're never going to get out of here." "Calm down," you smirk. Zihr raises a brow. "You smile as if something about our situation is humorous." "Don't I tell you that I always have a plan? Because I always have a plan, though not ideal." "I don't care about ideal situations. If it means we get out of this place, I'm in." Zihr's words earn a firm nod of agreement from Checl. You softly snort, wondering how long they'll have that attitude once they figure out what this plan consists of. "Then let's go." You set off towards the market; never happier to have such a suspicious mindset now. Any plan that doesn't have at least three backups is deemed too simplistic or a failure. You lead the two to a familiar vendor stall, thankful that the person you're seeking is present. <a data-passage="1.28.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Hey Prourc," you greet<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>> for the second time that day<</if>>, getting a quick nod from him as he continues taking stock. "Still need that last hundred or so solars?" He stops, narrowing his eyes on you before glancing at your companions. "No." His feathers stand on end as he shakes his head, repeating the word over and over. "No, $name." "I don't know if you're saying no to my question or to whatever you think you know." "You can't come. Getting the IDs and passports of the guards I am bringing was headache enough. I will not delay traveling even more to get the three of you situated." "No need. We already have our IDs and passports." He narrows his eyes, wishing to ask a question that he chooses to keep to himself for now. "It's still a no. Border officers won't let this many guards in without additional incentive, and I don't have it." You take the satchel from Checl and plop it in front of him. "I also have your additional incentive." "And you're sure that satchel has the right amount of solars." "I am positive that it does." His naturally wide eyes stay narrow as he glances between the three of you, and then he sighs, gathering the satchel and weighing it. "Alright. You're in. But if those border guards don't allow you to pass, that's none of my business. Understand? You'll be on your own." [[“That's when I'm at my best.”|1.28MyBestWhenAlone]] [[“You worried?”|1.28YouWorried]] [[“Of course.”|1.28OfCourse]] [[Nod in understanding.|1.28Nod]]
You snort, leaning to the side as you give him a cocky shrug, "fine by me. That's when I'm at my best anyway." Zihr doesn't even have to speak to show his displeasure with your words. "Alright then. Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here in two days. I'm not waiting around for you. You hear me, $name?" "Yes, yes," you sigh, waving his words away. "In fact, the entire Dreads hears you." "And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"You worried, Prourc?" you sneer, and his eyes soften for a second before it vanishes. "No," he finally answers. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here in two days. I'm not waiting around for you. You hear me, $name?" "Yes, yes," you sigh, waving his words away. "In fact, the entire Dreads hears you." "And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"Of course, Prourc. I wouldn't expect anything less." He frowns at that, about to say something more, but yet again, he chooses against it. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here in two days. I'm not waiting around for you. You hear me, $name?" "Yes, yes," you sigh, waving his words away. "In fact, the entire Dreads hears you." "And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
You give him a simple nod, understanding and not bothering to argue, question, or tease. "Go and handle everything you need to, then meet back up here in two days. I'm not waiting around for you. You hear me, $name?" "Yes, yes," you sigh, waving his words away. "In fact, the entire Dreads hears you." "And you," he points to Checl, "you'll be making yourself useful by sorting out my books and stock. So I hope you're smarter than you look." <<include "1.29">>
"I did not agree to this," she frowns, and Prourc's humorous squawk tells you that he couldn't care less. "Everyone coming along is making themselves useful. You get no free ride here, so your choice." [[“He's right.”|1.29ProurcRight][$checl -=3]] [[“Leave her be, Prourc.”|1.29LeaveHerBe][$checl +=3]] [[“This should be easy for you.”|1.29YouSmart][$checl +=3]] <<if $flirt_checl>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I can think of a few uses.”|1.29SomeUses][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<<else>>[[“I can think of a few uses.”|1.29SomeUses][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo -=5]]<</if>><</if>>
"Prourc is right," you say to Checl, who simply continues to frown. You're about to add in more but find no reason to. Prourc said it all, and that was that. With that handled, the three of you move away to take care of any business or just to head back to the apartment. You have plans to do the latter. <<include "1.29.1">>
"Just leave her be, Prourc." Checl gives you a thankful look, but Prourc looks like he will be doing no such thing. "Last I checked, it's my caravan. So again, you will be pulling your weight just like everyone else. Now go. I don't want to hear any of you talking about how you forgot some last-minute business." Checl frowns heavily but has nothing more to add to Prourc's declaration. With that handled, the three of you move away to take care of any business or just to head back to the apartment. You have plans to do the latter. <<include "1.29.1">>
You can see just how nervous Checl is about Prourc's words, and part of you wishes to calm her down, especially when her task is not as complex as she may think. "You're one of the smartest people I know," you assure her. "This should be one of the easiest tasks you've done." Checl's worry shifts to acceptance and gratefulness as she nods at you. With all that handled, the three of you move away to take care of any business or just to head back to the apartment. You have plans to do the latter. <<include "1.29.1">>
"I can think of a few good uses," you start, scratching your <<if $beard is "none" or $beard is "nb">>chin.<<elseif $beard is "short">>stubble.<<else>>beard.<</if>> Prourc and Zihr both groan in disgust, encouraging you with both sounds and body language to shut up. Checl, on the other hand, smirks in kind. "No one is surprised that your mind is digging under the nest." "Digging under the nest?" you laugh. "No. I want to be moving through the nest." Checl lets out a squawk of laughter, and Prourc looks ready to tear out his feathers and place them in his ears. "Go!" he shouts, and you do as he says. The three of you move away to take care of any business or just to head back to the apartment. You have plans to do the latter. <a data-passage="1.29.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We could've gotten out of here if we just chose that plan originally," Zihr points out once you're away from Prourc's stand. You nod, pairing it with a nonchalant shrug. "True. But this plan also means we'll be fighting whatever the Spire throws at us. The shuttle was a longer play but safer." <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "And what are we going to do for weapons? We sold them all to get the additional solars." Though you don't answer, his words don't fall on deaf ears. He was right, and repurchasing them is no longer an option. You have an adequate blade and $hound. Both would feel like enough if it wasn't for the fact that both are close combat, and everything out in the Spires will have long-range weapons or be their most deadly up close. True, Prourc has stated that two guards are going, but they provide you with no sense of security. Not until you can see them in action. "What do you have left?" you ask Zihr, who flashes a blade you've always found highly interesting. The blade has a story, that much you know for a fact. Whether or not you will discover that story is the real question. Perhaps, if it belonged to Checl you'd have come out and simply asked. But it was Zihr, and each time you show interest in the blade, he gets not only defensive but highly possessive. Though you suppose you can't blame him, his first impression is you successfully stealing that same blade. <<else>>\ "We should stock up on ammo, somehow," Zihr suggests, currently checking his gun. "If not, we'll have to rely on blades, and I'm not sure how smart that may be." Glancing over at him, you see that he's exchanged his gun for his blade, looking it over with a critical eye. That blade never fails to draw your eye. It has a story, that much you know for a fact. Whether or not you will discover that story is the real question. Perhaps, if it belonged to Checl you'd have come out and simply asked. But it was Zihr, and each time you show interest in the blade, he gets not only defensive but highly possessive. Though you suppose you can't blame him, his first impression is you successfully stealing that same blade. <</if>>\ It was perhaps your most interesting theft so far. Successful and yet disastrous. <a data-passage="1.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You reside in the shadows, behaving like a typical Dreader whose previous night was full of disappointment or had become lost at the bottom of a bottle. At least acting like you were an average passerby was easy. When you were with the Dinami, this was an action you had learned to perfect. Observing the crowd for a time before emulating their behavior flawlessly. The only thing that worked against you was that you were a noticeable Tetigit Terran. Only a heavy dose of makeup can eliminate the $markings spots that decorate your face, neck, shoulders, and arms. Here, you get a few stray gazes and raised brows from those far too curious for their own good, but that's it. No matter who you are, it is never wise to linger on another for too long. It usually ends with a gun pointed at one's forehead or a missing solars bag. Today was an uninteresting and slow day. You sent Checl out a few times in hopes of grabbing someone's attention, but so far, you've only succeeded in cornering one person, and they weren't even worth a shove. She wished to try one last time, and you allowed it, finding that you have nothing better to do for the rest of the day. The zeach operates on the alleyway across from you, the angle allowing you to see who walks down it but making it harder for them to see you. It only takes a few minutes for another fool to test their luck, but like the other, you write them off. The day is a failure; you'd much rather wrap it up than continue trying to turn it around. Pushing yourself away from the wall, you mosey across the street and to the alleyway when you spot the foolish figure darting away with haste. Squinting, you pick up your pace until you spot a raza standing before Checl. "Are you okay?" he questions, too busy examining Checl to notice you. Ah, a hero, you think as you draw closer, doing everything you can to quiet your steps. You don't see many of those. It's almost a shame to have to rob him. Almost. "Hey!"</span> <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[He's cute.|1.30Cutie][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[He's cute.|1.30Cutie][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[I'd tap that.|1.30HitItAndQuitIt][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[I'd tap that.|1.30HitItAndQuitIt][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[KO!|1.30KO]] [[“Night, night.”|1.30NightNight]]
<span class ="flashback">He turns around, giving you a better view of the raza you're dealing with and just how attractive he is. You raise a brow as you give him a quick once over and smile in gleeful shock. "You're cute." Before he can ask or do anything, you shoot him with a stun bullet, watching as those dazzlingly auburn eyes roll up and then close. He falls to the ground, and you look over at Checl. "You think he's cute, right?" "Are we robbing him or not?" "Of course," you chuckle, dropping down to a knee to pat him down, "no one is //that// cute."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">He turns around, giving you a better view of the raza you're dealing with and just how attractive he is. You raise a brow as you give him a quick once over and smirk. "Oh yea, I'd tap that." Before he can ask or do anything, you shoot him with a stun bullet, watching as those dazzlingly auburn eyes roll up and then close. He falls to the ground, and you look over at Checl. "Like, look at that body." "Are we robbing him or not?" "Of course," you chuckle, dropping down to a knee to pat him down. "I'd rob him after I fucked him though." Checl groans.</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">You shoot him with a stun bullet as soon as he turns, watching as auburn eyes roll and then close. He falls unceremoniously to the ground, and you snort at the lump before you. "Good job, Checl." "He actually tried to save me," she informs you, and you hum in acknowledgment, dropping to a knee to pat him down. "I heard."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">"Night, night!" you snort, hitting him with a stun bullet as soon as you say it. You watch as auburn eyes roll and then close, followed by his body falling to the ground. "Good job, Checl." "He actually tried to save me," she informs you, and you hum in acknowledgment, dropping to a knee to pat him down. "I heard."</span> <<include "1.31">>
<span class ="flashback">"Does he have anything?" You don't verbally answer her since you're trying to figure that out for yourself. A not too shabby gun, but it'll be no use to you. So, you simply take his ammo and throw the weapon to the side. A pouch with thirty solars, a decent haul. But what catches your eye is a dagger fastened to his leg. It's highly intricate, so much so that you wouldn't dare presume that its origins are from the Dreads. Attempting to describe it is difficult. The complexity and beauty stand out like nothing you have seen before. The blade is a glistening black and silver with the tip and some of the marks along the fuller being a deep red. Parts of it leading to the guard seem to be another material that reminds you of leather, but upon touching it, you're assured that you're wrong. The handle is thinner than what you're used to, but the grip makes it very comfortable to hold. Which also calls to attention the weight, perfectly balanced. If it was a few inches shorter, you'd consider it a dagger and fit to replace your own. "That looks … evil," Checl states from beside you, visibly shivering. "Looks wicked," you smirk. "I don't think I'll be selling this one." "You sure that's smart?" "It'd be stupid to sell it to someone here. The price we'd get wouldn't fit the weapon." "No," Checl corrects and then motions to the downed raza, "I mean stealing it from him." "We live in the Dreads," you snort as you move to stand. "Nothing we do is smart. Come on. Let's go before Sleeping Beauty wakes up." "You truly find him attractive?" "<<if hasVisited("1.30Cutie") or hasVisited("1.30HitItAndQuitIt")>>Well, yes. But that's not why I called him that. It's cos ... I'll tell you later, come on.<<else>>No," you chuckle, "it's a terran … name … phrase. Just come on.<</if>>" And with that, you go.</span> <a data-passage="1.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">That night, you hear him before you see him. You're busy in your room when you hear an unfamiliar voice shout, "hey," followed by the screech of your zeach friend. Panic should have caused you to walk faster, but you have a feeling of precisely who it is and what he's come for. That blade is unique, and a strange power emanates from it. It takes neither a genius nor more than two minutes of examining it to figure that out. A part of you, the far more curious side, had been hoping he'd return so that you can find out more about the weapon but now that the time has come, you have high doubts he'll wish to answer anything you ask. Peeking over the side of the staircase, you see the raza in question. He stands on one side of the table with Checl on the other. "Where's my sword?" he shouts. "I didn't take it," Checl responds. "But you know who did. Talk!" You watch as he moves to the other side of the table, but your presence stops him. "You!" he shouts, and suddenly, Checl no longer exists in the room. His attention is set on you, and he readies himself to charge forward when $hound cuts him off at the base of the stairs, lowering himself into a pounce-ready position. The raza looks from the hound to you, determination still in his eyes. <<if hasVisited("1.30HitItAndQuitIt")>>\ "Hello to you too, handsome. Couldn't wait to see me again I'm guessing?" "Where's my sword?" <<elseif hasVisited("1.30Cutie")>>\ "Nice to see you again, handsome." "Where's my sword?" <<else>>\ "Where's my sword?" <</if>>\ "How did you even find us?" Checl questions. "Your sword? Last I checked, I stole it off of you fair and square." "You hear yourself, right?" "You see yourself, right? If you think barging in and commanding me for things no longer in your possession will get you anywhere, you're wrong." He stiffens, and his eyes narrow as he looks you over. "What do you want?"</span> [[“An apology.”|1.32Apology]] [[“Ask nicely.”|1.32Nicely]] [[“Monetary compensation.”|1.32Compensation]] [[“Nothing.”|1.32Nothing]]
<span class ="flashback">"An apology." He chokes incredulously. "An apology? You can't be serious." "How bad do you want that blade?" you question, unable to keep the smirk from taking over your lips. "Enough to rather fight you for it. What am I even apologizing for? You tricked and stole from //me//." Feigning a look of confusion, you point to the door, "you barged into our home without invitation." The disbelieving look alone is almost enough for you to say you're done with your fun and that you'll return the blade. But you remain silent, awaiting the words. For a minute, you ponder if he’ll actually say it or if he'll simply do what he previously said, fight you. "I … apologize for barging into your home to take back what is rightfully mine."</span> [[Return his sword.|1.32ReturnSword]] [[Eh, not exactly what you're looking for.|1.32NopeTryAgain]]
<span class ="flashback">Content with the apology, you retrieve the sword and hand it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"You added a little bit too much to that apology. Keeping it simple works." He looks ready to fight you, a look you're becoming somewhat acquainted with, and you don't even know the raza's name. "I'm sorry." Pushing him further will begin to work against you, and you've had as much fun as possible out of this scenario. Retrieving the sword, you hand it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"I want you to ask nicely." His eyes narrow as he looks you over, glancing at Checl as if she'll provide him with an appropriate translation. Finally, he turns back to you and inquires. "You want me to ask nicely?" "That's what I said." For a minute, you ponder if he'll actually say it or if he'll simply do what he previously said, fight you. "Please give back what is rightfully mine." "Was that so hard?" you grin, retrieving the sword and handing it over. You swallow the want to question him about the blade's uniqueness, instead choosing to return to Checl's side. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"If you think I stole it off you just to add to my personal arsenal, you'd be wrong." "So?" "So, how much is that blade worth to you?" A flash of anger appears, but $hound's growl causes him to pause and take a deep breath, settling down though the rigid body remains. "You stole my solars." "You're zero for two it seems," you grin. "$name," Checl mumbles, and you let out a tired sigh. Leave it to Checl to help you steal something, but then fold at a time like this. Luckily, you have no intention of keeping the weapon, so aside from badgering him for entertainment's sake, you have no other reason to keep him here. With a shrug, you go and retrieve the blade. As soon as it passes from your hand to his, you realize just how much of today was a waste of time. You won't even gain an answer on what makes this particular blade so unique. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<span class ="flashback">You shrug your shoulders as you go and retrieve the blade. Honestly, you just want him out of your apartment, and the quickest way to do that isn't by talking. It's just by giving him what he barged in for. You're wary about using it anyway, and selling it is out of the question. No point when you'll get a horrible price for it. At most, you want to question him about the uniqueness of the sword, but place even that to the side as you hand him the weapon. Saying nothing more, he nods and walks off.</span> <<include "1.33">>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> And unlike Checl, he left. It wasn't until a few weeks later that paths crossed, and even then, Zihr still went his way in the end. It was the third chance meeting that sealed Zihr's fate with the group. Checl had begun working at the bar, and the night in question had you unable to walk her home. When she finally made it, Zihr was by her side, and Checl herself asked if the raza wished to stay. To this day, you don't know if Zihr accepted simply because he believed it a good idea or if he merely wished to see you fuming. But here you are. <a data-passage="1.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Zihr leaves your side, leaving only you and Checl to make the walk back. "This is ... surreal," she voices after a while, and you hum in acknowledgment. "You don't agree?" "You believe it surreal. I think it took way too long." "Like an impatient child," she giggles while you only roll your eyes. Two days, then. Two days before you leave this place behind. The issue is not the idleness but having to face, for two days, what you have brought to the Outlands. The gang war will not simply pause as it waits for you to leave. Your only hope is that it stays to the distance, localized to gang hangouts and areas you will not frequent. But then, you sigh deeply as you continue on; when has anything ever gone your way? <a data-passage="Chapter Two"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_2.png" alt="Chapter Two" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $inside to false>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2027.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. Miarilia sees a slew of ash-based storms. The inhabitants have gotten used to breathing in the material, but outsiders commonly must wear breathing masks."> <span class ="flashback">Steady your breathing. Breathe. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. None of that helps. Nothing! You find it nearly impossible to calm down and every attempt does nothing more than anger you. Why can't you calm down? You hadn't even been the one who dropped the tray or received the punishment. Is it selfish of you to be behaving like this? That terran … you can't even recall their name. Nor their face. All you can see is red. Blood covering their entire being as you were all forced to stand there and act as if the beating taking place a mere ten feet away wasn't happening. You have no clue if the person survived or not, though with the amount of cruor, you would believe not. It wasn't even the blood that caused you to react like this. Not the visuals but the audio. Their screams and how they begged for mercy. How they apologized while choking on their own blood and spit, the way they shouted and tried to escape the assault. Those screams echo repeatedly, reminding you of your little brother and how it made no difference. It never makes any difference. Suddenly, it feels like you are no longer able to breathe. That or you have simply forgotten how to. You struggle to regain your breathe and claw and kick as it feels like your surroundings encroach, intent on seeing you fall.</span> <a data-passage="7FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"$name?" Dante questions, opening the door and looking around, finally spotting you. He rushes to your side and brings you close. "Breathe. Breathe. Come on, do it with me. In. Out. In. Out." You focus on his touch, his smell, and his voice. <<if $dante_brave>>\ "Remember how I used to drag you along with me on those crazy forest adventures? I was so sure that there was some kind of forgotten Mayan ruin deep within. Remember how after a long day of disappointment, you would unpack your bag and hand me a sandwich because unlike me, you were always prepared. You know … after a while that was one of the only reasons I kept doing the adventures." "What?" you question, your attention finally shifting as you pull yourself away just enough to glance up into your brother's carob-colored eyes. "Si," he chuckles, "I realized that there were no ruins but adventuring with you was amazing. I got to hang out with you and we always got up to some mischief and could end the day on our favorite hill or rock or tree and just eat sandwiches." <<else>>\ "Remember how you used to drag me along with you on your crazy forest adventures? I was never really sure why you wanted me to come, you were brave enough to face anything in those forests and whatever you were looking for, well, I was only slowing you down. After a while, I was determined to make myself useful. So that if I ever asked you why you brought me along and not Raina for example, there would be a reason … you know? So, I made that botiquín." He pauses to chuckle, "it came in clutch a couple of times too. Especially those times we didn't want to tell mamá we got cut by glass from going into abandoned houses so I had to wrap your hands with bandages." "You always," you shudder for a moment, your heart finally calming, "were prepared." "Yea … yea, I tried." <</if>>\ "Are you feeling better?" "You weren't there," you tell him, shaking your head as you completely move away. "You didn't hear it or see it." "But I can imagine it. The grounds crew has … similar stories but they usually drag you off before they can really have their fun." You rest your head in your palms before gazing up at the odd, light pink domed ceiling.</span> <a data-passage="7FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"How did it all end up this way?" "We're just so lucky," he sighs, trying to smile but finding it a far harder task than initially conceived.</span> @@.center; - Trigger Warning: Descriptions of self-mutilation. There will be a choice to skip this area if you want, you will not miss out on any major story details. - @@ <span class ="flashback">Your conversation abruptly ends when you hear a shocked shriek from the bathroom. Gazing at one another, you stand and head there, only to find yourself shocked by the sight. "¡Ay, por dios," Dante mumbles, shaking his head in horror.</span> [[You turn away.|7FBTurn]] [[You stop them.|7FBStop]]
<span class ="flashback">Too much blood. Too much blood and pain and terror for one day. You can't. Holding back the bile that wishes to rush up your throat, you turn away and head out the bathroom. Focusing on yourself, you only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, mostly from Dante who is trying to both get the knife, calm the boy down, and figure out why he would resort to such a desperate and lurid thing. It is only a couple minutes more before Dante finally comes out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "If you don't want to hear him, then you may want to wait somewhere else." "Wait, you didn't persuade him to stop?" "Do you know who Nymihli is?" You pause, indeed, that was all you needed to hear to understand what was going on. "I have heard about what interests her and what happens to those she asks for." "Has she -" You don't allow him to finish and shake your head. "No, she has particular taste. She likes younger children." His eyes widen and panic settles within them. "Camila?" "No, no," you repeat in your most reassuring tone. "She's //too// young. From what I've seen, she likes them young enough to where they don't really fight back but old enough to where they understand what's happening." "Preteens?" You nod just as a coughing fit overtakes you, mucus begging to be yakked up and expunged. Multiple attempts to clear your throat later find the feeling persisting but you can at least breathe again.</span> <a data-passage="7FB.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Wasting no time, you leap forward to grab the knife away from the boy but he dodges, shaking his head frantically. "Please, no," he cries, his voice broken as he clutches the knife close to his chest. "Need." "What do you mean, need?" Dante asks, once again by your side, his eyes trailing from the bloody knife to the boy. A large gash now rests against his cheek, replacing the smooth skin that the boy once had. His dark brown eyes conveying the terror. The issue is, you're not sure if that terror is aimed at you and Dante or the boy's action. "Nymihli seen me. Asked about me." "The youngest daughter?" Suddenly, you understand what this is all about, though you had not known that others had gone to this extreme to avoid her gaze. "Why do this just because -" Resting a hand on Dante's arm, you shake your head. "You may not hear about it but she has a reputation. The kind of reputation where those who are given to her are never seen again." You shake your head and fight the shiver as once again your vision is clotted in arterial scarlet. "She likes pretty," the boy tells you, staring at the knife as tears rush down his face, "so I must be ugly." "There has to be another way," Dante says and you decide to remain quiet. What other way is there? The only hope he has is that Nymihli turns her gaze to someone else and you're not sure how many times that has happened. "No. No other way." Tears continue to fall down his cheeks as his hand tightens around the blade. "Please. Close door." Dante looks ready to argue, but something clicks, and he finally nods and turns. You follow him, doing as the boy asked, and you head back to your previous area and try to block out any noise from that way. You doubt he will be the last to go to such dire lengths. For a moment, you place yourself in his spot but quickly turn the thought away. It's too much right now, and you are reaching a limit. Just as you think that a coughing fit overtakes you, mucus begging to be yakked up and expunged. Multiple attempts to clear your throat later find the feeling persisting, but you can at least breathe again.</span> <a data-passage="7FB.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Are you okay?" You nod, waving his worry away with a light smile. "Yea." "$name, are you sure? That cough doesn't sound normal." "Don't worry so much. We were bound to pick up some kind of sickness being here." "Agreed, but we already caught those while in the cells." "Well, I'm catching it again." You chalk up his worry to simply being a big brother who has watched far too much horror befall those he loves. You're fine; you know your body better than he. Though he doesn't appear reassured, he nods and, with a sigh, leaves to return to whatever job he has been assigned. For now, you will stay here. Perhaps sleep before you are rudely awakened for the next pointless task.</span> <a data-passage="7.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_7.png"> <<nobr>>\ <<set $solars +=150>> <</nobr>>\ "Another." "Once more." "Again." "Repeat simulation," you yell at the computer, ignoring the sweat droplets as they fall off the edges of your eyelashes. Some of the salty mixture has made it to your lips, and you run your tongue across them mindlessly. The brackish taste reminds you to wipe your face, a lesson that will be forgotten like it has previously. You stretch your back and rotate your neck, taking a deep breath as you prepare for another exercise. Ignoring the moans of your muscles, you prime your weapon and pat your side as if the blade there had magically disappeared. You've done that one too many times, especially when the simulation doesn't even call for a knife. It may be wise to switch up the simulation after a few more. Your weapon training isn't the only thing that can be improved upon. [[But it is the most important.|7.01][$weaponry +=10]] [[Perhaps a hand to hand combat simulation next?|7.01][$combat +=10]] [[Your hacking skills can be vastly better.|7.01][$tech +=10]] [[An endurance simulation on the obstacle course may be wise.|7.01][$agility +=10]]
Thus, your day continues like always. Practice and more practice. Improvement and rectification. Doubting and more doubting. You constantly wonder how you would have reacted if that day had ended with your meeting with Tsering. Would you believe yourself ready? Does it matter? That mystery figure that held your life in the palm of their hands proved that you were not prepared. They chose to leave you alive purely due to the chase not yet satiating their thirst. "Ugh!" you shout, ignoring how your muscles beg you to reconsider what they know is coming. "Again." It's a cycle you're well aware of. The thought of finishing up approaches, and instead of committing, your brain reminds you of all your downfalls, and you must try again. You have no choice. You will die in this world if you're not prepared. You will die on the path that you're currently heading down if you don't push yourself past the levels you already possess. You believed yourself fit and ready due to being amongst the top in the organization, but in reality, that makes you sub-par compared to others. The year in the Outlands has caused you to grow soft, and though you are still physically fit, you are nothing like who you were before. Even if you were the same person, it wouldn't help. You needed to improve, not stagnate. [[Again.|7.02]] [[One more.|7.02]] [[Last one.|7.02]]
The days begin to mix into one another. Eat. Practice. Jog with $hound. Sleep. Eat. Practice. Jog with $hound. Sleep. Eat. Practice. Jog with $hound. Sleep. You stopped counting how many days have passed since that faithful hunt. They all languorously fade into the next, and you give no care to correcting that. You see the others here and there. Short glimpses that hardly ever register with you, and if they ever wish for something more, you pay far too little attention to realize. Most of your interactions come from the far more local hunts that you're assigned too. Hunts that feel more like errands, but according to Vittorio, is a right of passage for rookies. If it wasn't for the steady income due to them, you may just refuse them and deal with the consequences. You don't realize that your mind has trekked too far from your current drill until the computer overhead lets out a short, annoying ding. "Simulation completed. Final score 470 out of 600." A wasted simulation, then. Focus. You need to focus. But perhaps this is just your body and mind rallying together to force you into taking a break. Sighing, you exit the room, stretching your back as you run into … [[Commander Sin.|7.02Sin][$huntreminder to true]] [[Zihr.|7.02Zihr]] [[Checl.|7.02Checl]]
"Sin?" you start, trying to wrap your head around why they'd be down here. "Commander Sin," you correct, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" "You look like you're heading towards the console. About to start up another exercise?" They don't give you time to respond. "Are you trying to prove a point to everyone or just yourself?" "What are you talking about?" you question with a hint of exasperation in your tone. You only wish to train, not be reprimanded for using facilities that you were told were open. They nod at the leaderboard, the same board you wanted to plant a bullet in a few days ago for broadcasting to all what seemed like a challenge. You never liked those things; it instigated competition for the sake of division and acrimony. It encourages none and puts those at the top in invidious positions. In the Dinami, boards like this existed for everything. If they could somehow create one for who takes the most piss breaks, then they would have done so with no afterthought. No one was safe on those boards, not even those lying at the very bottom. If your name existed above another, you ran the risk of having a target placed on your back by someone overly fervid and with something to prove to a room full of people who did not care. If it existed below, you //were// the target. Easy prey due to conflated egos and a false sense of skill. [[You never participated.|7.02LawfulLight][$approach +=5; $attitude +=5]] [[You participated only when others concerned you.|7.02LawfulDark][$approach -=5; $attitude +=5]] [[You participated willingly towards certain members.|7.02ChaoticLight][$approach +=5; $attitude -=5]] [[You participated willingly.|7.02ChaoticDark][$approach -=5; $attitude -=5]]
You have never once participated in their sick and twisted games. Once you realized what was happening, you made a promise to yourself that unless it was a contract or your life was in danger, you would not kill another. Those in the Dinami who did participate seemed to do it for the thrill, and killing another being was not the kind of sport you envisioned yourself enjoying. <<include "7.02Sin1">>
The entire thing sickened you, but there were a few times when you participated in the culling of members. It was rare and only when others attacked you first. You never struck the first strike, even letting others believe they could get to you so that you could mentally explain the death or injury away when you delivered it. You're not exactly sure if playing mental gymnastics with yourself made you feel justified; you would like to think so. <<include "7.02Sin1">>
There were a few members who needed to be taught lessons or—during the most extreme cases—dealt with thoroughly. They were your sole targets. Sometimes, they rested below, at times above; either way, it meant nothing to you. <<include "7.02Sin1">>
You suppose that judging the board and those who participated would make you a hypocrite since you did so willingly. No one forced you into it, and part of you believes that if you genuinely wanted to, you could have kept out of it. But why do that when the Dinami practically gave you the go-ahead and means to exterminate those who would wish to see you dead? <<include "7.02Sin1">>
Your frown deepens, remembering how those very boards sometimes would 'glitch,' throwing the results out of whack. Bloodbaths followed, and only those with reputations or those lucky enough to be labeled insignificant had nothing to worry about. You never understood why an organization would want to kill off its members. The more bodies, the better, yes? No. Not when culling is the intention to ensure all your underlings remember that their so-called compatriot is their biggest enemy. It made grouping up idiotic but, at the same time, profoundly human. No matter how much you were taught to hate the other, you still craved to be social and have another to relate to and confide in. It was the stupidest decision any of you made. Blinking, your mind settles back on your immediate surroundings, and you gaze at the holographic board before turning to look at a patient Sin. "I've had it happen before, it'll be nothing new." "Cocky," Sin snorts, and you throw an irritated glare at them. "It's not cockiness," you hiss, "it's the truth." "I'm sure all those reminded of unpleasant traits say something similar." You're unsure if they came all this way to provoke you or if there is a point to all of this. Whichever got them out of your hair faster is the one you'd rather. "If you're done chastising me. I'm going to get back in there." <a data-passage="7.02Sin2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What are you doing this for?" they inquire, refusing to move, so you have to go around them to access the console. "Sake of being <<if $humor >=50>>the best possible me I can be," you answer in the most 'chipper' voice you can muster. You feel like a commercial actor trying to get children to eat their veggies. Oh, how you hated those commercials.<<else>>better," you answer without a second thought.<</if>> "Then you would have done this from day one. Do remember that I read the report." They tsk you, shaking their head as they finally move, but it's only so they can access the terminal instead. "Careful, $name. You're becoming predictable." "What's it to you? If you're going to keep an eye on me from the sidelines, then do it quietly." Your frown deepens as they continue to type. "What are you doing? I wasn't disturbing anyone, so why harass me?" "That is not entirely true," they reply. "You see, each time you start an exercise, the results are sent to me. Imagine the numerous chimes I have received from notifications over the past few days, all due to you." They glance at you, and you immediately look away. Yea, you suppose you can see how that would get annoying fairly quickly. [[“You can't silence them?”|7.02SilenceThem]] [[“I can see how that would become annoying.”|7.02Annoying]] [[“My apologies.”|7.02Apologies]] <<if $flirt_sin>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You like seeing my notifications.”|7.02Notifications][$sinRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“You like seeing my notifications.”|7.02Notifications][$sinRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Roll your eyes.|7.02RollEyes]]
"You can't silence them?" "Oh, thank you," they grin, going back to typing, "I think you just solved all of my problems with that one solution." You fight the need to roll your eyes, wishing you knew about the notifications. Now, you can't help but wonder how Sin would judge your performance. Would they believe it exceptional or merely a shrug? Did it matter? Would Sin's thoughts mean anything in comparison to what a Dinami thought? Maybe that can be a good thing. Tsering knows what the Dinami teaches, knows what Dinami $name can and cannot do. But he has no idea what Nightwalker $name has learned, but that is only if you do learn. [[Ask them.|7.02AskThem][$sin +=3]] [[Let it go.|7.02Sin3][$sin -=3]]
"I can … I guess I can see how that would become annoying," you admit, peering off into the distance. "Can you?" they chuckle. "Am I glad that you are finding our simulation rooms helpful? Yes. But I would also enjoy it if you found them less useful as well." You wish you had known about the notifications before. Now, you can't help but wonder how Sin would judge your performance. Would they believe it exceptional or merely a shrug? Did it matter? Would Sin's thoughts mean anything in comparison to what a Dinami thought? Maybe that can be a good thing. Tsering knows what the Dinami teaches, knows what Dinami $name can and cannot do. But he has no idea what Nightwalker $name has learned, but that is only if you do learn. [[Ask them.|7.02AskThem][$sin +=3]] [[Let it go.|7.02Sin3][$sin -=3]]
"My apologies, I didn't realize." "Why would you?" Sin asks bluntly, not looking at you as they continue to type in the terminal. "There's no way to negate that, huh?" "No, an unfortunate consequence of me being your Commander." You wish you had known about the notifications before. Now, you can't help but wonder how Sin would judge your performance. Would they believe it exceptional or merely a shrug? Did it matter? Would Sin's thoughts mean anything in comparison to what a Dinami thought? Maybe that can be a good thing. Tsering knows what the Dinami teaches, knows what Dinami $name can and cannot do. But he has no idea what Nightwalker $name has learned, but that is only if you do learn. [[Ask them.|7.02AskThem][$sin +=3]] [[Let it go.|7.02Sin3][$sin -=3]]
"You don't have to admit it, Sin," you smirk. "I'm sure you like seeing my name pop up on your notifications." They look as if they're about to say something but do nothing but laugh. "Yes. I have grown affectionate towards the numerous chimes simply because they are yours." They say the words in such a soft tone that it causes you to question just how serious they are in their proclamation. Either way, you wish you had known about the notifications before. Now, you can't help but wonder how Sin would judge your performance. Would they believe it exceptional or merely a shrug? Did it matter? Would Sin's thoughts mean anything in comparison to what a Dinami thought? Maybe that can be a good thing. Tsering knows what the Dinami teaches, knows what Dinami $name can and cannot do. But he has no idea what Nightwalker $name has learned, but that is only if you do learn. [[Ask them.|7.02AskThem][$sin +=3]] [[Let it go.|7.02Sin3][$sin -=3]]
You roll your eyes, wishing you had known about the notifications before. Now, you can't help but wonder how Sin would judge your performance. Would they believe it exceptional or merely a shrug? Did it matter? Would Sin's thoughts mean anything in comparison to what a Dinami thought? Maybe that can be a good thing. Tsering knows what the Dinami teaches, knows what Dinami $name can and cannot do. But he has no idea what Nightwalker $name has learned, but that is only if you do learn. [[Ask them.|7.02AskThem][$sin +=3]] [[Let it go.|7.02Sin3][$sin -=3]]
Clearing your throat, you ask. "So, did you look through them?" "Some," they answer, possibly already knowing where this conversation is going. "And?" "And?" they repeat, a small smirk on their lips. "And what did you think?" "I'm shocked you'd care about my thoughts on your performance." [[“Maybe you're right and I'm just curious.”|7.02RightCurious][$sin -=5; $open -=5]] [[“I'll take criticism from anyone.”|7.02Criticism][$sin +=5; $open +=5]] [[“You are a fighter.”|7.02Fighter][$sin +=5; $open +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "Maybe you're right, and I just care about seeing how much attention you were paying out of curiosity." "Take it from me," they smile, waiting for the console to load, "curiosity helps no one. It only causes you to recruit mysteries that place you into hot water with your superiors." You snort. "If I recall, I believe you were exceptional. A true force of nature that made me want to put you in a fight with our best fighter. It also caused me to constantly question how, in the five elements, you managed to get yourself caught by Tebriri officials. Whichever organization trained you did an intense job." They don't mean to, but they stress the word intense and your frown deepens. "But?" "But you are stiff and rely too much on calculation. There is no room for mistakes, and when you make one, it ruins all you have built. The few times you did, it felt like watching a house start to crumble at the foundations. Yes, you can still hold your own, but an equal will notice and use it against you. And that is when you will fail." <a data-passage="7.02Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "You could be a chef for all I care, and I would still want to hear what you have to say. If you saw me stumble and that cost me a shot, then that's helpful. You don't have to be a fighter to always pinpoint mistakes." They nod. "A wise positioning. If I recall, I believe you were exceptional. A true force of nature that made me want to put you in a fight with our best fighter. It also caused me to constantly question how, in the five elements, you managed to get yourself caught by Tebriri officials. Whichever organization trained you did an intense job." They don't mean to, but they stress the word intense and your frown deepens. "But?" "But you are stiff and rely too much on calculation. There is no room for mistakes, and when you make one, it ruins all you have built. The few times you did, it felt like watching a house start to crumble at the foundations. Yes, you can still hold your own, but an equal will notice and use it against you. And that is when you will fail." <a data-passage="7.02Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "Why wouldn't I? You are a fighter, or at least you were." "Oh, are you trying to figure out what I did before this?" "I think I have an idea, but that wasn't the point I was trying to make. Just that you're a hunter, and even if you don't do any more hunts yourself, you still know how to fight and can catch things." They hum, confirming nor denying anything you said. "If I recall, I believe you were exceptional. A true force of nature that made me want to put you in a fight with our best fighter. It also caused me to constantly question how, in the five elements, you managed to get yourself caught by Tebriri officials. Whichever organization trained you did an intense job." They don't mean to, but they stress the word intense and your frown deepens. "But?" "But you are stiff and rely too much on calculation. There is no room for mistakes, and when you make one, it ruins all you have built. The few times you did, it felt like watching a house start to crumble at the foundations. Yes, you can still hold your own, but an equal will notice and use it against you. And that is when you will fail." <a data-passage="7.02Sin3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Anyhow, try this one." They hit a button and the simulator doors open. "What is it?" "Try it out first, and then I'll tell you." Frowning but far too curious, you enter and press the button on the console to begin the simulation. A war-torn cityscape trickles in around you. Being a hit-$man, you aren't used to fighting in these kinds of areas. You're not an assassin, but your professions share enough similarities, and being in the middle of a battle isn't exactly how you operate. Sky cars lay in flames, and parts of the streets and sidewalks now sport craters from what you assume were grenades or rockets. Buildings are nearly destroyed, only a tiny tap away from crumbling. But what truly catches your attention is the lack of people. You hear the screams and distant explosions; an acrid and pungent smell of ozone breaches your nose, but your sight is what you described before. Seeing that this is all a simulation, you're suddenly put on alert and soon enough hear the whistling of a rocket locking on. <a data-passage="7.02Sin4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Fuck!" you shout, diving towards a car and then thinking twice as you scramble out from behind it and make your way towards a building. The rocket explodes something behind you, but you find you have another problem, there's another shooter, and this one is a sniper. So, two shooters, and both are somewhere up high. You're not sure if they're sharing the same floor or if they're in two different buildings. <<if $w_primary is "sniper">>\ Carrying a sniper as well, you realize that you're in a pretty bad position. You don't know how thorough this simulation is, but unless you can coax the shooters into shooting again to reveal their location and find a safe enough location opposite, you won't be able to go on the offense without putting yourself in jeopardy. <<elseif $w_primary is "shotgun">>\ You're not in a horrible position, but it's not the best either. Lethality and safety aren't congruent here; you'll have to sacrifice one for the other, and you're pretty sure lethality will not go without a fight. Your only option is to find the shooters and then sneakily approach from the flank and catch them off guard. <<else>>\ You'll be fine … maybe. There are a lot more questions that you need answers to before you can determine just how easy this will all be. If the distance is too vast, you'll have to lessen it. If you can't get a proper angle, you'll need to find one. <</if>>\ You have to expect that the shooters have a better grasp not only of their situation but also of the general landscape. If all of those factors are taken into account, then this is a fairly sophisticated simulation. The hardest one you've had has the AI acting with some semblance of intelligence, but nothing more than a common thug with a mastery of their weapon. Taking a look around your surroundings, you decide on a proper plan. Ordinarily, failing wouldn't get you down, especially with how many trials you've done thus far. But you are positive that Sin is watching, and the idea of failing this specific simulation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. <<if $markings is "blue">>It is also why you don't just step into your stealth ability. Sin will surely recognize their species' gift and will pepper you with questions. No, if you're ever going to reveal that gift, you'll do it in the field, not for some ridiculous simulation.<</if>> <<if $w_primary is "sniper">>\ Time to act. After some mild reconnaissance, you find two suitable places to take cover in, an alley and a building. [[Dart to the alley.|7.02Alley]] [[Dart to the building.|7.02Building]] <<else>>\ Time to act. [[Shoot at a car.|7.02ShootCar]] [[Throw a brick.|7.02Brick]] <</if>>\
Inhaling and then exhaling sharply, you sprint towards the alley, slamming your back against the wall just as you hear two shots ring out. Seeing that the simulation is still going means you weren't hit, or at the very least, the hit isn't fatal. Peeking out from your spot, you start searching for your prey, and something glistening races towards you. "Simulation terminated," the computerized voice says overhead, and the world disperses, leaving the cold stainless walls in its place. "Right in the forehead," Sin tsks, tapping the holographic screen. You lean in to see that they froze the frame right as the augmented bullet touches your forehead. The expression you make is less than flattering. "Should I save this?" <a data-passage="7.02Sin5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Inhaling and then exhaling sharply, you sprint towards the building, almost tripping as you barge inside. If they saw where you went in, it shouldn't matter as now they'll have to figure out which floor you're on. Heading up to the third, you cautiously approach the windows and try to catch sight of either attacker. At first, you see nothing but the slightest hint of movement catches your eye and you stare at a window, catching a hint of something with a large barrel as it rotates. Got 'em. You retreat, going up one last floor and then heading to a room on the far right. Not far enough that you can no longer see the shooter but also out of immediate detection. You have one shot, after that you'll be playing a distant game of hide and seek, not to mention that the other shooter will also be looking out. Now, to wait. You don't need to wait long as they rotate in your direction, giving you a peek of their face. STILL BUILDING - LOOK EVERYTIME I COME TO THIS PART, MY BRAIN WALKS OUT THE DOOR. LIKE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS ABOUT THIS ONE FUCKIN PART THAT GETS ME HEATED. AND EVEN WORSE!! I CANT THINK OF A WAY TO SHORTEN IT TO A MERE SUMMARY WITHOUT IT LOOKING LIKE SUCH AN OBVIOUS COP-OUT. SEND CHOCOLATE MUFFINS. "Simulation complete," the computerized voice says overhead and the world disperses, leaving the cold stainless walls in its place. <a data-passage="7.02Sin5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shoot at a car that's a few feet away from you, readying yourself right after when you hear a whistling in the air. Before you can act, the ground beside you explodes into a mess of shrapnel and rock. "Simulation terminated," the computerized voice says overhead and the world disperses, leaving the cold stainless walls in its place. "Look at that face," Sin tsks, tapping the holographic screen. You lean in to see that they froze the frame right as the ground exploded and you realized what was about to happen. "Should I save this?" <a data-passage="7.02Sin5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Picking up the nearest brick, you test its weight and then glance around at where to throw it. Creeping away from the area you want to go, you toss the brick at first floor window, doubting you'll be able to throw something so heavy far enough to hit something that high. You take the long way, heading back to the building you want to go inside and hope that they take the bait. Finding a back door, you enter and begin making your way up the stairs and to the second then third floor. You're about to climb one more flight but decide against it. If they do take the bait, they'll be heading down with first and second in mind which means <img src="images/wip.png" style="float:center"> "Simulation complete," the computerized voice says overhead and the world disperses, leaving the cold stainless walls in its place. <a data-passage="7.02Sin5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("7.02Alley") or hasVisited("7.02ShootCar")>>\ "You're hilarious, dontcha know," you snort, pushing them out of the way so that you can type the delete button on the entire simulation. "Well, now you can't review your score and what you did wrong." "I know what I did wrong. It doesn't take a brainiac to figure that out." "I do love when words fail to translate over," they chuckle but say nothing more, and after what feels like an awkward second for you, at last, you turn to them. <<else>>\ "Exceptional work," Sin compliments and you hum in recognition. <</if>>\ "What do you want, a thank you?" They snort. "I'll settle for less notifications." They gesture to the panel. "This style of simulation is randomized, and the AI will behave differently each time. It will also begin to take note and log your tendencies to further the difficulty." <a data-passage="7.02Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And when I want to do it again, how do I choose it?" "I've sent you the code for it. Simply type that in before starting." "Why is a special code needed to do it?" "The majority of those who join our ranks are content with where they are. An easy enough bounty here and there with a few challenging ones sprinkled in. Earn enough solars to feed whatever bad habits they hold and to send back to worried loved ones. That's it. They use these facilities to maintain their skills, not improve upon those skills. Every few years, we get those who do want to improve, though. Those who want to rise up the ranking boards and get harder hunts. Push themselves harder and further." [[“Yea and up on your glorious dead wall.”|7.02MemoryWall][$nightwalkers -=3]] [[“Idiots.”|7.02Idiots][$nightwalkers -=3]] [[“And where are they now?”|7.02WhereAreTheyNow][$nightwalkers +=3]] [[“Ah.”|7.02Ah][$nightwalkers +=3]]
"Yea, and end up on that glorious gone but not forgotten wall of yours. Because when it's for a good cause, seeking death is thus seen as heroic." "Is it so wise to judge when you are on your own journey of revenge?" <<include "7.02Sin7">>
"Idiots," you nod, "just say that every few years you get idiots." They chuckle. "I've learned not to judge someone on their choice of entertainment. Most of them would gladly say that your journey of revenge is foolish." <<include "7.02Sin7">>
"And where are those hunters now?" "Most of them are still with us. You'll probably never see them. They're on distant planets carrying out more extensive bounties." "The type of bounties that reward thousands of solars, I'm guessing?" "Looking to increase your payout?" You shrug. "Not at this exact moment, no. But soon." They hum, nodding as if they were privy to some inside information regarding your question. "Is that journey of revenge going to take you away from us soon?" <<include "7.02Sin7">>
"Ah," you answer simply, tired of this conversation. "Am I intruding on your training for your journey to revenge?" <<include "7.02Sin7">>
"Journey of revenge?" you question, "who said-" "You are not as mysterious and sneaky as you seem to want to believe. Anyone with a functioning brain and a look at that report will know what's going on. Whoever that vetix is, he spooked you, and now you're playing catch up. I really wish I wasn't so invested, I really do. But I find myself repeatedly wondering, 'what will $name do next?' Like how you plan on breaking your contract, that one has me wanting to start a possibilities board." "Come on, Sin," you chuckle, the sound not as genuine as you wish it was. "You gotta get a better hobby." <<if $sinRoPo >=2>>\ Sin begins to respond before pausing, instead letting out a light chuckle as they shake their head. "I usually have an easy time with comebacks; you always have a way of causing me pause." "Are you saying I leave you speechless?" "Multiple times, in fact." "The way you say that makes me think that it rarely happens." They slightly bow, with the lower two arms performing the motion while the upper two go behind their back. "I prize myself on being able to respond quickly and intellectually. In my culture, words should not be wasted." Straightening up, a look of serenity and admiration crosses their face as they regard you. Tender enough to cause you to shift in mild discomfort at the attention. "It has been a long time since I found myself unable to always come up with something as quick as I like." "I see," you say, now finding yourself in their position. You clear your throat and nod to the elevator. "I should go." They nod. "I doubt you have seen your messages, so I will remind you, do not be late for the briefing tomorrow." You pause, catching the smile that Sin wears as they walk off, leaving you standing there and opening your messages. Sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent a day ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less hassle to ask yourself which message you //have// seen. <<else>>\ "I must agree." They seem to think about something before finally nodding and then turning to go. "I doubt you have seen your messages so I will remind you, do not be late for the briefing tomorrow." Waiting until Sin is no longer around, you open up your messages, and sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent a day ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less hassle to ask yourself which message you //have// seen. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Zihr?" you question, raising a curious brow before looking around. The room is slowly filling with hunters, putting the time around midday. "Interesting," he starts, nodding to the scoreboard. "Interesting, but not shocking." Walking towards the console, you tap a few commands and close it down. The last thing you want to hear is Zihr's mouth about your reasonably high scores. "Ever gonna reveal how you got those skills?" [[“I ate my spinach.”|7.02Spinach]] [[“Ever gonna mind your business?”|7.02MindYaBusiness]] [[“To what end?”|7.02WhatEnd]] [[“Maybe.”|7.02Maybe]]
"I ate my spinach," you snort softly. "You what?" he asks in total confusion. "Wasted joke," you mumble, turning to face him. "If you need the room, it's yours. I'm done for the day." <<include "7.02Zihr1">>
"Ever going to learn to mind your business?" He smirks. "Foolish me. The last few weeks made me forget just how annoying you can be." "If you ever need a reminder, I'm here for free." You nod towards the simulation room. "If you need the room, it's yours. I'm done for the day." <<include "7.02Zihr1">>
"To what end? What will it change besides you knowing something extra?" Zihr shrugs. "Maybe it won't change anything or maybe it'll change everything." You groan, raising your hand to stop him from saying something cliché like 'won't know until you tell me.' You nod towards the simulation room. "I'm done with the room, if you need it." <<include "7.02Zihr1">>
"Maybe," you answer, much to Zihr's surprise. "Maybe? Is this maybe sooner or later?" "Think I know?" you snort and then nod to the simulation room. "I'm done with the room, if you need it." <<include "7.02Zihr1">>
"Actually, I was hoping to come across you." He nods to something behind you, and you turn to see an empty practice ring. It doesn't take long to understand where he's going with this. Since you've known Zihr, the two of you have never sparred. Probably for good reason. The amount of anger the two of you would probably take out on the other's face is perhaps the main reason for that. You scratch <<if $beard is "nb" or $beard is "none">>at your chin, thinking over all the ways this will probably go wrong.<<else>>your beard as you think through all the ways this will probably go wrong.<</if>> Sure, it helps you with training if Zihr is as decent as he thinks he is anyway. But do you want the aftermath of the results? If you lose, what will that tell you about yourself? Will you even be able to muster the willpower to continue training? A cocky thought on the surface, but it should bring pause and requires contemplation. [[Fight him.|7.02Fight][$zihr +=5]] [[Refuse.|7.02Refuse][$zihr -=5; $huntreminder]]
You rotate your head and nod. "Alright, Zihr. Let's spar." As the two of you near the area, you wonder what inspired this idea. You've both danced around the thought but never committed to it. It always feels that the times you'd be far more receptive, he wasn't. And the same can be said regarding Zihr's readiness. Again, your mind conjures up reactions to what would happen if you lost. Tired? Exhaustion from constantly doing simulations and it finally catching up to you? An insouciance towards the idea of actually throwing your all behind it? Or even a fear of doing just that? Or will it all simply come down to Zihr being the better hand-to-hand fighter? That won't cut it. Tsering has always been the better shot between the two of you; despite what weapon he uses, his numbers reflected his skill. The one thing you gloried in was your ability to go head-to-head with even the biggest and meanest aliens. The Dinami had an auvvrak in their ranks. The keyword was had. But what will any of that mean if you fail to take down this one raza whose only source of training was the gang members who raised him? "Rules?" Zihr asks, doing a few light stretches. "You need rules?" "First blood? Tap out? Those kinds of rules." //Ah//, you mentally think. "Either works. Something tells me it'll be first blood." Zihr doesn't seem surprised by that, and you head to separate corners. A list of tidbits about Zihr and his fighting style pops into your mind. A street fighter. Speedy. Fan of dodging and not a stranger to the task of tiring someone out. Favors his right, the same hand he holds his dagger. His eyes betray his thoughts. Has a tendency to lean before he attacks. Haven't quite gotten used to fighting away from the streets of the Outland. He stays low to use the dirt and sand to his advantage. That one makes you curious how he has adapted—if he even has—to fighting in the city. <a data-passage="7.02Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You wonder if he's going through all of the things he knows about you, if there are any. Zihr was never trained to scrutinize everyone, friends and allies included. You were. No more time to waste. In the Outlands, everyone was so used to keeping a certain amount of space between them and their target out of fear of being stabbed. Wise, as you hardly knew anyone who didn't carry a hidden blade. But this is not the Outlands; you're curious to know if Zihr has accepted that. The distance between you is minimized and soon, you're throwing quick jabs at Zihr to see how he'll react. Decently. He seems surprised and uncomfortable about the lack of space but keeps his guard up and continuously moves to reestablish any that was lost. "When you offered to spar," you snort, "I thought you'd actually throw a-" The end of your sentence never comes as you just barely avoid a kick from Zihr. You chuckle softly. "Almost." "Just testing out your reflexes." He finally seems to go on the offensive, blocking instead of evading your throws and sending out a few of his own. He's far faster than you anticipated, facilely performing combos that cause you to grow observant. If you didn't know him, you'd count him as a threat. The type of threat that you'd choose to shoot instead of playing hand-to-hand combat games with in hopes that it'll lengthen a fight that was already over. Unfortunately for him, his eyes still lay out his entire strategy. Worse for him, he seems to have developed a slight flinch. Right before he attacks, the arm he's about to use seems to hesitate before falling through with the decision. [[Tell him.|7.02TellHim][$heart +=4; $zihrtells to true]] [[Keep it to yourself.|7.02KeepItToYourself][$gut +=2; $mind +=2]]
"You really need to work on your tells, Zihr," you start, swiping a few of his punches away with an open palm. "Left jab. Right uppercut." He pauses right before he throws the uppercut and then moves back. You notice how he leans, placing all his weight on his right leg. "Kick." He does it and, with his eyes ablaze, steadies himself and launches himself at you, but you avoid him like a seasoned matador. "How?" "Most fighters have a tell or a pattern they follow." "What's yours?" "I'm not telling," you snort while gesturing to him. "Worry about yourself, first and foremost." Though it wasn't your intention, by warning Zihr, you have done nothing more than put him on edge. Every action is now reconsidered and filled with doubt, with each step done with too much caution and stiffness seizing his body. <a data-passage="7.02Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You see little reason to tell him. One day, Zihr may not be your ally. A dark and very pessimistic thought to consider, but the lack of that kind of thinking is what now defines your relationship with Tsering. <<include "7.02Zihr3">>
Your fight continues, and Zihr becomes increasingly irked. So much so that his actions become puerile and desperate. He forgets all forms of schooling as his only goal revolves around landing a single hit. Yet another weakness, though he shares that trait with many others who lean far too much on their emotion. Frustration sees many a trained fighter fall. He opts for a surprise tackle, sweeping you off your feet momentarily as you both roll on the mat but then get back up. A move he hoped would debilitate you has led to his own downfall, as he is now both frustrated and exhausted and has left himself open for several attacks. You sweep his leg out from under him and then move to sit on his chest, using your legs to pin his arms down. You're posed to deliver the final blow, and a part of you is itching to do it. It feels like eyes are boring into your back. They're quiet, waiting to see what you'll do and how efficiently. They know what's required. They've told you as much before this fight began. And those silent glares tell you what will happen if you fail. Where you'll be, whose screams will be ringing out that night. You can feel the knives slicing into your skin, the different poisons mixing in as you scream and beg for them to stop. All of it just to realize that this could have all been avoided. Stop fighting. Stop being rebellious. It's you or him. Whose life matters more? You can't fail the Dinami. <<if $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ [[Deliver the blow.|7.02DeliverBlow][$zihrLo -=1; $zihrRo -=5]] [[Move off of him.|7.02MoveOffHim][$zihrLo +=1; $zihrRo +=5]] <<else>>\ [[Deliver the blow.|7.02DeliverBlow2][$zihrLo -=1; $zihr +=5]] [[Move off of him.|7.02MoveOff][$zihrLo +=1; $zihr -=5]] <</if>>\
You strike. "$name!" Zihr shouts, and only then do you realize where you are. You are not in one of the Dinami training or simulation rooms. You were not chosen to perform the Gauntlet or called forth for testing reasons. They are far … no, that is a lie. Tsering proved that was a lie. Your past is catching up with you, but it's not in this room with you now. "Are you … okay?" Zihr's voice pulls you further out of your thoughts, grounding you in the now. Blinking, you stiffen as you focus on your current position. Zihr's hands are resting on your thigh, but his gaze causes you the greatest amount of discomfort. You just struck him. Blood is gushing out of his nose, and yet, he peers at you with nothing short of concern. [[Go grab a towel.|7.02GrabTowel]] [[Apologize.|7.02Stare]]
<<if $zihrRo >=50>>\ "Don't look at me like that," you mumble, shifting to rise off of him. You walk to the side and grab a towel, thinking twice before finally tossing it his way. "Are you okay?" You snort, feigning ignorance on the matter. "Worry about yourself, maybe?" "I'm not the one that seemed to black out and go somewhere else." "My mind has a tendency to travel. This isn't new." Heading back over to him, you check his nose by softly applying pressure on the areas around it and gazing to see if any part is crooked. It seems fine, you probably just damaged a vessel. <<else>>\ "I ..." you start, a shaky hand reaching towards his nose as you touch the blood. When did you ... You didn't even realize where you were. The idea terrifies you as if your entire reality is slowly slipping away. "Hey. It's fine." A warm hand resting against your cheek pulls you back, forcing you to blink a few times to realize what is happening. You stare at Zihr, and he stares right back. One hand still rests on your thigh, and every part of your body feels the contact. You manage a shaky chuckle. "It's fine that I caused your nose to bleed. Yea, that makes sense." He snorts, making a few different faces to move his nose and perhaps test just how bad the damage is. "Yea. I don't know if it's broken." You lean in, softly putting pressure on the areas around it and gazing to see if any part is crooked. It seems fine, you probably just damaged a vessel. <</if>>\ "No," you whisper, partially relieved. "It's not broken." Your eyes reconnect with Zihr, noting just how close the two of you are. You visibly fight both a shiver and a need as everything inside of you tells you to lean in just a few inches more. His lips are right there. His eyes are on yours as well, and your thoughts are reflected in his eyes. Could he possibly want this just as much as you? <<if $zihrRo <50>>The movement of his hand off your thigh brings you out of the moment, allowing your brain to warn you how close you are to fucking up.<</if>> "You're fine," you reiterate, <<if $zihrRo >=50>>re-adding the space you had placed between you.<<else>>moving off him and to the side to grab a towel. You throw it towards him without really looking.<</if>> "$name," he mutters so softly that it causes you to pause and your heart to skip a beat. You fight the need to turn around and look at him, to peer into those anxious amber eyes holding far too much emotion for you. "Clean yourself up," you direct before exiting the ring. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I ..." you start, a shaky hand reaching towards his nose as you touch the blood. When did you ... You didn't even realize where you were. The idea terrifies you as if your entire reality is slowly slipping away. "Hey. It's fine." A warm hand resting against your cheek pulls you back, forcing you to blink a few times to realize what is happening. You stare at Zihr, and he stares right back. One hand still rests on your thigh, and every part of your body feels the contact. You manage a shaky chuckle. "It's fine that I caused your nose to bleed. Yea, that makes sense." He snorts, making a few different faces to move his nose and perhaps test just how bad the damage is. "Yea. I don't know if it's broken." You lean in, softly putting pressure on the areas around it and gazing to see if any part is crooked. It seems fine, you probably just damaged a vessel. "No," you whisper, partially relieved. "It's not broken." Your eyes reconnect with Zihr, noting just how close the two of you are. You visibly fight both a shiver and a need as everything inside of you tells you to lean in just a few inches more. His lips are right there. His eyes are on yours as well, and your thoughts are reflected in his eyes. Could he possibly want this just as much as you? The movement of his hand off your thigh brings you out of the moment, allowing your brain to warn you how close you are to fucking up. "You're fine," you reiterate, moving off him and to the side to grab a towel. You throw it towards him without really looking. "$name," he mutters so softly that it causes you to pause and your heart to skip a beat. You fight the need to turn around and look at him, to peer into those anxious amber eyes holding far too much emotion for you. "Clean yourself up," you direct before exiting the ring. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Hey," Zihr says softly, his hand resting on your cheek as he redirects your attention to him. "Breathe. Okay? Breathe." You attempt to do as he asks, focusing on the now, your surroundings, and the sounds of idle chatter and simulation dings. The sounds of feet falling against the linoleum floor and that of guns being charged and then shot. But mainly, you focus on his touch. On Zihr's calloused hand, the ever so faint tracing of his nail against your leg, and the sound of his voice. You use that as your anchor, a lifeline thrown haphazardly, but its aim proves true. Upon seeing that you're calmer, he moves to withdraw his hand … [[… but you don't let him.|7.02DontLetHim]] [[… and you allow it.|7.02AllowIt]]
Not truly thinking, you instinctively reach out for it, keeping it there for a second longer. Just a second longer. Your mind calls you out, and you just choose to ignore it. You'll chide yourself late, make it seem like you just weren't all the way there. For now, you take a moment to exist in this moment. If this was Checl? Would you still react this way? Are you behaving like this because of who it is or just because of your situation? All questions you'll ask when there are none but $hound to listen to your laments. The many thoughts finally cause you to move away, standing and heading to the opposite side of the ring. Something witty. Something nice. Something angry. Something apathetic. Nothing comes to you, so you choose silence. Silence coupled with a swift exodus. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're calmer now. You don't need it. "What was that?" "Good fight," you reply, exiting the ring. You can feel a headache encroaching. Maybe it'll be wise to go to sleep early tonight. Start back up around dinner time. It doesn't matter what you do next; you just need something that will take you away from here and Zihr and the conversation he seems to want to have. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You strike. "$name!" Zihr shouts, and only then do you realize where you are. You are not in one of the Dinami training or simulation rooms. You were not chosen to perform the Gauntlet or called forth for testing reasons. They are far … no, that is a lie. Tsering proved that was a lie. Your past was catching up with you, but it was not in this room with you now. You move away as he sits up, cradling his nose. "You're a real fucking piece of work, $name, you know that?" he questions, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his nose. "You did that on fucking purpose." [[“Did you not say until first blood?”|7.02FirstBlood]] [[“Don't spar me again.”|7.02SparMeAgain][$zihr +=5]] [[“Zihr … I'm sorry.”|7.02ImSorry][$zihr -=5]]
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but did you not say until first blood?" "You know damn well what I meant by that. You had obviously won, but you just wanted to be vicious." "Vicious," you repeat, mouthing the word as if tasting it for the first time. You wish that the only reason you chose to punch him was because of viciousness. From there, Zihr stops talking to you and concentrates on tending to his bleeding nose. You decide to go, finding that your presence is no longer needed nor wanted. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Don't ask to spar against me again." He coughs out a laugh, gazing over at you with an incredulous look. "So this was supposed to be a lesson? Don't ever dare challenge the great fucking $name? What happens if I do challenge you to another spar? You'll break my leg?" "I warned you, I don't have much more to say." "Fuck you!" he roars, probably gaining the attention of some of those nearby. You don't look around to check, simply leaving the ring and walking away. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Zihr," you breathe heavily, shaking your head, "I'm so sorry. I …" "You what? Didn't mean to punch me in the nose? Aiming for the cheek?" "I didn't mean to do any of it," you hiss, attempting to calm down. You'd be furious if your roles were reversed and he had the nerve to catch an attitude with you. "I'll try to keep that in mind as I'm tending to my nose," he snarls, getting to his feet and walking to the edge of the ring to grab a towel. You watch him, wishing words weren't so hard in such moments. Maybe if it was someone else, someone <<if $cp>>like Checl or someone <</if>>who you didn't have such a precarious relationship with. But no, this was Zihr, and you can think of little to lessen this blow. So, with your presence no longer needed, you go. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Something encourages you to pause, focus, and center yourself before delivering this blow. The realization that you're not in the Dinami's clutches is there, yet you feel the weight of their punishment bearing down on your back. The tormentor questioning you on your failure between each lash. Your screams becoming some kind of twisted symphony that you no longer recognize. "Hey!" someone shouts, and you blink a few times to realize that Zihr is now kneeling in front of you, your back against the ring's rope. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" You push his hands away and try to breathe, finding it a greater challenge than initially expected. Your chest aches, and your heart feels like a field privy to the hoofbeats of a dozen frantic horses. //You should have hit him. You should have ended the fight. Now, you will be punished.// The thought never ceases, but you at least subdue it. Unsteadily, you leave the ring, unable to focus on anything until you find a bathroom and splash water in your face. The shock eases you further and further out of it until you are now mostly yourself. There is a lingering headache, but you would much rather deal with that than the other symptoms accompanying these attacks. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You raise your hand in a pacifying manner as you shake your head. "Can't say I'm shocked," Zihr states as he watches you return to the console. "I have more important things to focus on." "Yea? And how many times will you redo the same simulations before getting the results you're looking for?" That is an excellent question. You've been putting the simulations on the hardest difficulty, and though the results aren't always perfect, enough times they are for you to have found it to be growing less beneficial. Now, you're only attempting to beat your time. To get faster, more precise … more deadly. But there's a predictability with these simulations that your adversaries won't have. "We done here?" you ask, pressing the start button. He shakes his head. "Yea, we're done. See you for the briefing tomorrow." Thankfully, your back is to him, so he doesn't see the shock that spreads across your face. You open up your messages, and sure enough, you have an unread one from Sin sent four days ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this, it'd be less of a hassle to ask yourself which messages you have seen. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Checl?" you question, blinking a few times as if that would somehow get her to disappear. She should be a breath of fresh air. A reminder that the world outside this room does indeed exist. And yet, you see her as nothing but a distraction. "Oh, um. Sorry," she begins, "am I in the way? I wanted to ask you for a favor." She is standing between you and the console, but the awkwardness in her voice causes you to pause. [[I'm not taking a break.|7.02NotTakingBreak][$view +=3]] [[I need a break.|7.02Break][$view -=3; $huntreminder to true]]
//You could be in one of those simulation rooms//, your thoughts remind you, //getting better and preparing. You don't have time to become distracted.// "Whatever it is, I don't have time for it," you begin to tell her, nodding towards the elevator, "get Zihr or Ne0 on it." Checl stares at you sadly but quickly nods. "Okay. Um, yea sure. I'll … I'll go to them." Despite saying that, she doesn't move. Still standing there and staring at you. Your patience feels like it takes its last breath. "What?!" you shout. She doesn't even appear hurt by the outburst and simply shakes her head. "You're not alone. We're here for you, your team." "Checl," you growl as she reaches to capture your hand. <<if $checl_touch>>You allow her this, but you're unable to keep the aversion from your expression.<<else>>You pull back just before she can make contact, and you make sure your face shows just how displeased you are with her attempt.<</if>> "I just … I feel like I'm watching you slip away. I know I don't know everything about you, but I'd like to think that the person I met in the Outlands is still some part of you. [[“No, you had it right the first time.”|7.02RightFirstTime][$huntreminder to true; $checl -=3]] [[“Checl. Stop.”|7.02CheclStop][$huntreminder to true; $checl +=3]] [[“What are you on about?”|7.02OnAbout][$checl -=5; $checlLo -=1; $nlulsh to true]] [[“I don't have answers.”|7.02DontHaveAnswers][$huntreminder to true; $checl +=5]]
"No," you interrupt before she can continue. "You were right in the first half. You don't know me." "So, that's it? Everything that happened in the Outlands was just a show?" Those words cause you to pause. No, it wasn't, but that still didn't mean she knew anything about you. You make another attempt to approach the console, but Checl is right there in front of you again. "Checl," you say slowly, "there's a hundred other folks you could be messing with right now." "But there's only one $name." She says this with the friendliest and most genuine smile she can muster, her eyes expressing every ounce of hope that she has that you'll let her in. That you'll bring down one wall or even a single brick. How slow is she taking this just so that she can avoid the risk of losing you? And exactly how selfish is it of you to know this and still give her nothing? She waits a breath longer, her face conveying all the hope she has contained. And then she deflates. "I'll let you get back to it then." She turns to go before looking over her shoulder. "Also. You know that we have a bounty tomorrow, right?" You freeze, no, you did not know that. "Yea, thanks for reminding me." She nods and then departs. You open up your messages, and sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent four days ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less of a hassle to ask yourself which message you have seen. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Checl, stop. Just stop. I'm just -" "Pulling away. Yes, I can see that." "What do you want from me, Checl? Want me to sit down and spill my guts about why I'm constantly training? To explain who that vetix was? To cry on your shoulder as we talk about our past trauma?" "That's not-" "Then what?" She visibly gulps and just shakes her head. "Nothing I say will change your mind, will it? Will make you view me or any of us as your actual friends. I don't know why I keep trying … No, I do," she swiftly corrects. "I'll keep trying, and you can just keep telling me no until one of us gets tired." She nods back at the simulation. "I'll let you get back to it then." She turns to go before looking over her shoulder. "Also. You know that we have a bounty tomorrow, right?" You freeze, no, you did not know that. "Yea, thanks for reminding me." She nods and then departs. You open up your messages, and sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent four days ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less of a hassle to ask yourself which message you have seen. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What are you on about right now?" She starts to answer but then stops, her eyes widening and her ears folding slightly at the top to warn you that your words struck a nerve. "Seriously?" "I was down here minding my business. //You// came and interrupted //me//." "Yes, and I'm really starting to regret that." "Would've been helpful about five or ten minutes ago." "You know what, $name … you're a … a nlulsh." You stiffen when your chip fails to translate the word. So now you'll be wondering what this word means and why, out of the numerous insults in your language database, this isn't one with a close enough meaning. She leaves, and you're now simply stuck there alone. How many times has Checl ever truly been mad at you? Upset and aggravated tons of times. More than you can count. The stunts you pulled in the Outlands often left Checl worrying about your safety, and once you finally proved to be alright, she would convert all of that trepidation into vexation, but it contained no vitriol. All it took was an air of jocularity to set in for her mood to revert to her usual self and for all to be well again. You doubt, the same can be done here. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Checl," you start, trying to find the appropriate words. You're not trying to go out of your way to hurt her feelings, but the truth is that getting close won't end well for either of you. You said it a year ago, and nothing has changed besides the situation. "I don't have the answers you want." She snickers, attempting to lighten the mood. "You don't know what happened to you?" "No." You stare at her and she back at you as she tries to parse whether you're just playing with her or not. "You're serious." "Of course." You shrug. "It's on the list of things to figure out." "How … What happened?" "If I told you that, I'd lose the whole mysterious gambit I'm going for." She chuckles but at least seems far more accepting with letting this go. "I'll let you get back to it then." She turns to go before looking over her shoulder. "Also. You know that we have a bounty tomorrow, right?" You freeze, no, you did not know that. "Yea, thanks for reminding me." She nods and then departs. You open up your messages, and sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent four days ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less of a hassle to ask yourself which message you have seen. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Stretching, you nod and turn to her. "Sure, I could use a break. What's the favor?" "I was hoping today could be the day you teach me how to fight." "I can't teach you in a day, Checl. It'll take a while for you to grasp all of it." "Oh, I mean, I know. I just … gotta start somewhere, right?" You're not entirely sure if you'd be the best teacher. The way you were taught wasn't precisely in a way that would be suitable for others, nor are you sure you can change your ways to fit Checl. But does any of that matter? She's in a dangerous profession, and unless you wish for her to die, aiding her in this is wise. Your teaching method may be a bit … harsh, but those she has to defend herself against will be even harsher. Unlike you, they will wish to injure or kill her. [[Refuse her.|7.02RefuseHer][$checl +=10]] [[Teach her.|7.02TeachHer][$checl -=10]]
Low patience and a voice in the back of your head that nudges you to never teach someone how to later betray you all mix together to beget the answer no. That, and you doubt you can help her in your current state. You've been practicing as if you have an addiction. Slowing what you've been doing for the last week down to a newbie's pace feels more like a scary bedtime story to ward you away from bad decisions. "Why not ask Zihr?" you question, "or even Ne0?" "I …" Checl stares at you sadly but quickly nods. "Okay. Um, yea sure. I'll … I'll go to them." She turns to go before looking over her shoulder. "Also. You know that we have a bounty tomorrow, right?" You freeze, no, you did not know that. "Yea, thanks for reminding me." She nods and then departs. You open up your messages, and sure enough, you have a message from Sin sent four days ago. You're not even about to stop to consider how you could have missed this. It'd be less of a hassle to ask yourself which message you have seen. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I can teach you a couple of things." "Yay!" she squawks, catching you off guard. You glance over your shoulder at her, and she attempts to calm down, though the smile that lights up her features stays put. Getting into the ring, you motion for her to warm up, an action you don't have to do, thanks to your earlier workouts. You suppose if there was any time to do this, it's now. You're already in the combat mood but also tired enough that you won't be trying to do anything too strenuous. "You know, Checl," you start, "my ways of teaching aren't exactly …" Clean? Nice? Safe? "I know. But isn't that what I need? Someone who won't pull their punches to make sure I stay safe? Just don't break any of my bones; we have a hunt tomorrow." You pause at her words; that's news to you. She giggles. "You didn't know?" "Give me a break," you sigh, "I've been." You gesture to your immediate surroundings. A pitiful excuse but one nevertheless. <a data-passage="7.02Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Alright, so what's first?" "Your stance," you snort. You correct her stance and then her angle. "Keep your knees bent and your chin down." "Why? I mean, why should I keep my chin down?" "Granted, everything I'm telling you works off of terran anatomy, but thankfully, your anatomy isn't exactly too far off. But you should keep your chin down because otherwise, you're inviting to be punched there. Broken jaw, head scramble, take your pick on all the ways a raised chin can knock you out of a fight." Taking a step back, you look over her stance one more time and nod. "Commit that feeling and stance to memory. I can't give you any tips on how you should ball your fist up. I don't know how those talons of yours dig in." "How is it supposed to be?" You show her, tucking the tips of your fingers in as much as possible before tucking in your thumb and closing your fist. She does the same but is forced to relax as her talons dug too much into her pads. "I'm teaching you self-defense anyway; palms up are a better alternative for diffusing." You show her this and then have her take up the stance. Then, moving around while still maintaining the rules of the stance. This goes on for a while, with you constantly correcting her, mainly regarding keeping her knees slightly bent and her legs spread apart. "Should I really be moving around so much?" [[Show her what happens when she doesn't.|7.02ShowHer]] [[Just tell her, no need to get physical.|7.02JustSayIt]]
You motion for her to get into a stance, and as soon as you do, you land a punch on her shoulder. "Hey!" she shouts as you land another to her chest. You pick areas that can take a punch but constantly show her what happens when standing in one spot. "Move, Checl. Use your feet." She stumbles at first, and you don't let her get away with the trip-ups as you continuously land hit after hit. She'll probably be a bit bruised and sore in the morning, but she asked you, not the other way around. After a while, she seems to understand the importance of moving and keeping space between you and why having a solid foundation is critical. "Good," you huff, ending your assault much to her delight. "Understand why moving is important now?" "Very much so," she chuckles. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes. If you stand in one spot, you're no better than a dummy used for target practice. Moving makes you harder to hit." "But will it not just cause me to trip up?" You roll your eyes with an easy smile. "Maybe you should be less clumsy." She nods in agreement before she moves a few feet away and then nods. "Alright, let's do it again." And so you do until she grows tired, and you find it wise to stop the practice there. Once one is exhausted, they make more mistakes and stop caring as much to fix them. Or at least that is what you know; the Dinami would quickly counter that argument with another. "Thank you, $name, for helping me." "Don't thank me just yet. One training session doesn't make you a master, and I haven't even shown you half the moves you should be using. You should also know that even if you do get in a situation where this would all become helpful, it's more likely that your body will resort to something far more instinctual. It takes a lot of repetition for this to become more second nature." "How long did it take you?" "Don't know," you answer honestly, "but I wasn't trained like you." A probing look crosses her face, and you ready yourself for whatever inquiry she will try next. But instead, she just nods and nods towards the elevator. "I need to get ready for tomorrow. Thank you again, $name." You hum, watching as she goes. <a data-passage="7.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
From there, you wrap up your training for the day and head out into the real world. You only leave the hunter's building nowadays to take $hound on his daily run. Otherwise, you feel like you do nothing but sleep, eat, and train. [[Besides the times you went to find Tsering.|7.03FindTsering]] [[And the days have gotten away from you.|7.03DaysGottenAway]]
Well, that's all you usually did besides those few times you went back to that hill to see if Tsering was still in the area. A part of you knew each and every time you looked that you would come back empty-handed. And yet … But perhaps that's why you went in the first place. Brave enough to say that you did it but too much of a coward to actually hope for it. What would you have done if he had been there? He would undoubtedly be there just because he knew you were still searching for him and perhaps wished to speak further. He'd be insufferable. <<include "7.04">>
And from there, the days have gotten away from you. You're unsure if an entire week or just a few days have passed. For all you know, you've been doing this for two weeks. You suppose it doesn't matter much when the next day will be the same and the one after that. <<include "7.04">>
Continuing your walk down the street, you follow your terminal's directions until you find yourself at the store kiosk in question. You could have done this all online, but thought a walk would be healthy. "May I provide assistance?" a floating droid questions as it whizzes towards you. You swat the cam out of your face before focusing on the merchandise console. A slew of mods and augments are reflected into the air and you scroll through. Regretfully, you'll have to buy all the mods you lost. Their is now a need to prioritize and truly understand what your style is to make sure that every purchase is done with sense. But, that is also a positive. With the Dinami, you are given a package filled with tons of mods that sometimes just caused you a headache, the other half you never touched, and the rest were essential. You won't have pointless mods taking up space and having to upgrade your mod storage to host more. Sometimes starting over is not so dismal. <a data-passage="7.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
After some scrolling, you determine that the wisest path is to start with the rudimentary mods. They'll be the cheapest as well as the foundation to any other mods you get; especially seeing that most mods will require these beforehand. You have $solars solars and there are at least four mods available that you see providing worth. //You can always check out all the mods you have by opening up the right sidebar and selecting the [[loadout image|Sidebar_Loadout]]. This area will also show you your inventory.// [[Buy the shield mod.|7.05Shield]] [[Buy the health mod.|7.05Health]] [[Buy the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]] [[Buy the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]] [[Buy the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' The armor comes equipped with shields, but once depleted, they need a moment to recharge unless one has a shield mod. The mod constantly recharges as long as the armor is connected to the wearer's abacus. It also contains a slot and backup shields to reduce the chances of shield failure. There is little conversation to be had on the cons of purchasing such a vital mod. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the shield mod.|7.05.1][$mod_shield to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the health mod.|7.05Health]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the health mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Look at the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the cloak mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the ammo mod.<</if>> [[Don't buy anything.|7.06]]
''Cost: 40 Solars'' Comes with all combat packages, the same as shields. It works in tandem with armor that has adrenaline and booster slots. Monitoring vitals, it sends a signal to the armor to pump a cocktail of drugs to the wearer to make sure they survive whatever harrowing experience they find themselves in. You're not dumb enough to count how many times it saved you when things got far too dicey. <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the health mod.|7.05.1][$mod_health to true; $solars -=40]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the health mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the shield mod.|7.05Shield]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Look at the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the cloak mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the ammo mod.<</if>> [[Don't buy anything.|7.06]]
''Cost: 60 Solars'' Though it retains its essentiality, it didn't exactly reach the same levels as the shield or health mod. <<if $tech >=10>>For you, it was a necessity. You won't bother counting how often having the mod has helped you get in and out of certain situations. Hacking without it is doable, albeit at such a torpid pace that it would be wiser to just attempt brute force.<<else>>You were never much for hacking. It's not that you fail to see the uses; it's just that you were never the most tech-savvy person. For one to hack, they must know the fundamentals, and the truth is, you didn't know them. Getting the mod could be the first step in figuring that out, but was it worth a buy when others are far more helpful?<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|7.05.1][$mod_hacking to true; $solars -=60]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the shield mod.|7.05Shield]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the health mod.|7.05Health]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the health mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the cloak mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the ammo mod.<</if>> [[Don't buy anything.|7.06]]
''Cost: 50 Solars'' Another disputatious mod. Many will scream until their voice has gone hoarse that the mod is needed, no matter the class of fighter. There are times when one simply needs to disappear, and other moments when it would be far more conducive for an individual to be amidst the action to properly situate and anatomize for the sake of a plan. Others have no issue voicing that with a clever mind; half of that is doable without a cloak, and some wish to call as much attention to them as possible. Both, you can clearly see. <<if $markings is "blue">>Cloak is nice, but it is even nicer when you can do such thanks to biology … or in your case, experimentation. Either way, buying a cloak mod is pointless when you can enter into a stealth mode upon will.<<elseif $class is "sniper" or $class is "hunter">>But due to your chosen style, you have far more need for something like this.<<elseif $class is "engineer">>Due to your chosen style, you can see the argument for and against it far too clearly. It would be nice to be able to set up things and hack what you can without detection, but there are limitations that make it redundant.<<else>>Your chosen style hardly needs a cloak. It would be hilarious to see one's face as you leave the shroud and bash them in the face, but you can find little else to truly justify the purchase.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|7.05.1][$mod_cloak to true; $solars -=50]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the cloak mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the shield mod.|7.05Shield]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the health mod.|7.05Health]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the health mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Look at the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the ammo mod.<</if>> [[Don't buy anything.|7.06]]
''Cost: 50 Solars'' It was one of the first mods you got when you were in the Dinami. If a shield and health mod is vital, then ammo mods were right up there. This mod allows any gun, not just plasma guns, to hold a variety of ammo upgrades, allowing you to use anything from inferno rounds to acid rounds. It also allows you to use $hound's toxins if you have them in the canisters. <<if $w_primary is "plasma">>//Note: You own a weapon that will make this mod obsolete.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|7.05.1][$mod_ammo to true; $solars -=50]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the ammo mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the shield mod.|7.05Shield]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Look at the health mod.|7.05Health]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the health mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=60>>[[Look at the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $solars >=50>>[[Look at the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]]<<else>>You don't have enough to buy the cloak mod.<</if>> [[Don't buy anything.|7.06]]
Purchasing the mod, you figure out if that will be all or if you want to purchase more. <<if $mod_shield is false>>[[Buy the shield mod.|7.05Shield]]<<else>>You already have the shield mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_health is false>>[[Buy the health mod.|7.05Health]]<<else>>You already have the health mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_hacking is false>>[[Buy the hacking mod.|7.05Hacking]]<<else>>You already have the hacking mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_cloak is false>>[[Buy the cloak mod.|7.05Cloak]]<<else>>You already have the cloak mod.<</if>> <<if $mod_ammo is false>>[[Buy the ammo mod.|7.05Ammo]]<<elseif $w_primary is "plasma">>Your primary weapon is a plasma weapon. You don't need this mod.<<else>>You already have the ammo mod.<</if>> [[Leave.|7.06]]
With that done, you leave the store, leaving a note on your chip to check out which weapon mods are suitable for the Nightwalker's weapons before checking them out. <<if $cp and $checlRoPo is 0>>\ The streets are just as busy now as they were before. Since arriving, you haven't checked out the nightlife here, and the flow of traffic causes you to consider doing so. What new things would you discover about this city when the sun finally abandons the sky? Your trail of thought ends there when you spot a more than familiar zeach and draqe. Your brow furrows as you watch Checl dart to a nearby store window, visibly excited as she turns to Ne0. One can only imagine the befuddled android's response, probably attempting to understand Checl's exuberant reaction towards clothes. Continuing to watch them from your current position, you watch as Checl tries to explain something before grabbing Ne0's hand and placing it on her vest. They exchange a few more words before heading off, but you notice that Checl—or Ne0—hasn't released the other's hand. [[They're cute.|7.06Cute][$checlne0 +=1]] [[More experience for Ne0 is always good.|7.06Exp]] [[You have no thoughts on the matter.|7.06NoThoughts]] <<else>>\ The streets are just as busy now as they were before. Since arriving, you haven't checked out the nightlife here, and the flow of traffic causes you to consider doing so. What new things would you discover about this city when the sun finally abandons the sky? <<if $idle is "nothing">>\ With a bored sigh, you start on your way. <<else>>\ With a bored sigh, you reach into your pocket and grab <<if $idle is "cig">>your cigarette. You toy with it for a while, flipping it around your finger and teasingly fingering the on button before finally cutting it on. A few seconds later, you take your first drag, letting the smoke sit in your mouth before finally exhaling.<<elseif $idle is "candy">>your trusty bag of candy. It's a new one. And a tiny and annoying part of you chastises you for buying it before mods or other essential things. Grabbing one at random, you toss it in your mouth and move it from side to side with your tongue. What that jarring voice doesn't realize is that this has become as much an essential as anything else. Yes, yes, that is what people with an addiction say. All topics you have discussed and moved on from.<<else>>one of your toothpicks. You waste little time as you slide it into your mouth, tasting the slight peppermint flavor it's coated with.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<include "7.07">> <</if>>\
You snort at the two of them. The two of them are cute; you'll admit as much. You're not sure how that would work, if that is even where it's headed, but you're curious enough to watch whether it blossoms or wilts. <<include "7.07">>
You hum as you turn to walk away. More experience for Ne0 is always good, especially since it seems to rely only on you and your group. There are many things that you will be unable to help with for whatever reason. So, having the others provide for the areas you'll fail at or where Ne0 is just incapable of experiencing will be highly beneficial. <<include "7.07">>
They walk away, and you do the same, your mind moving to other subjects. <<include "7.07">>
You walk against the flow, moving for none as you go. Every single look they send you slides off like oil upon aluminum. On the surface, your face holds no clue of the pain and turmoil that happen far deep beneath. In the very pits of what makes you, you, rests a being that still dares to grow hurt over the alarmed and disgusted looks sent its way. Or maybe it wasn't as deep as you believed. After a while, it feels like they no longer exist. A sea of shadowy figures parting, each with blank faces you no longer register. They may as well be wearing masquerade masks, each more detailed than the last but all showing the same emotions. One is no different than two, and three and four join them without your notice. And that is how it goes. That is how it always goes. An alien standing out amidst aliens, amidst allies, amidst everyone. Ultimately, it matters not if someone has a name or a face that you //almost// recognize. It doesn't matter how long it took for them to trade in their hopeful expressions for those horrendous masks, as they always do. Maybe not right then, the next day, or the one after that. But they do eventually. <a data-passage="7.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Numerous obnoxious beeping noises and chimes pull you out of your sleep. Dilatorily, you reach towards the end table, fighting the sudden desire to fling the holographic clock out the window. "Silence," you shout. But yet, that has only silenced one of the many sounds. Sitting up, you glance around to find $hound sleeping on the floor, still deep in sleep. [[“Brag why don't you.”|7.08BragDontYou]] [[“Oh, I hate you.”|7.08HateYou]] [[“How nice to be without ears.”|7.08NiceWithoutEars]] [[“Nope, you gotta wake up too.”|7.08WakeUpToo]] [[“Wanna switch?”|7.08Switch]] [[Leave him be.|7.08LeaveBe]]
"Oh, brag, why don't you! We get it, alarms don't mean shit to you." You're basically shouting at no one because if $hound senses that you're talking to him, he shows no sign. The only thing that moves is his tail, which wiggles slightly. Rolling your eyes, you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
"Oh, I hate you. I hate you so much right now." If $hound senses that you're talking to him, he shows no sign. Even more so, he doesn't feel the glare burning right into his chitinous plates. The only thing that moves is his tail, which wiggles slightly. Rolling your eyes, you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
"How nice it must be to not have ears," you comment. If $hound senses that you're talking to him, he shows no sign. The only thing that moves is his tail, which wiggles slightly. Rolling your eyes, you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
"Nope! If I gotta wake up, then you gotta wake up too!" You grab and throw a pillow, watching it hit him with a soft plop. He raises his head, flicking his tongue in the air before head-butting the pillow and lying on it. It seems that you have lost a pillow. Sighing, you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
"Wanna switch positions? You run around all day training, and I'll be the one to lie around, get fed, get pets … yea. Let's switch." If $hound senses that you're talking to him, he shows no sign. The only thing that moves is his tail, which wiggles slightly. Rolling your eyes, you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
Despite the edge of jealousy, you leave him be as you bring up your terminal and see the numerous messages. <<include "7.09">>
<<if $huntreminder>>Fuck! You're late for the bounty meeting. How exhausted were you?!<<else>>Your brow furrows when you see that the main perpetrator is your chip, warning you that you're fifteen minutes late to a briefing that you just learned about at that moment. When the hell did you get a hunt, and why weren't you told? The thought is answered as soon as you think it. You were probably warned but had decided to forego opening any messages. You rub your face and do little to fight the long, drawn-out yawn that manages to escape. You feel exhausted.<</if>> A wicked voice that sounds far too much like your own, snickers, //the Dinami would beat you for such impenitence. You used to never truly sleep; now look at you. Multiple alarms at that. Perhaps you have fallen too far.// Despite telling your mind to shut up, it keeps going and going and going. It doesn't stop as you briskly put on your clothes, slowing down on your armor due to the need to be punctilious. Nor does it give you any respite as you grab your weapon and whistle for $hound to follow. And it barely holds in its cackle as you open the still chiming door and push past the alarm droid that has come to retrieve you due to your tardiness. The others are already present by the time you enter. <a data-passage="7.09.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Nice of you to join us, $name," Vittorio mumbles, shaking his head as he begins to type something in. You receive the information and realize that your abacus is the only one to chime, meaning they had already started without you. Heading to the table in the back, you take a seat and bring up your terminal, pausing at the face that spreads across your screen. "Like I was saying," Vittorio starts, "this one shouldn't be too much of a handful." You naturally filter out his voice as your heart thumps in your chest. It's not strange to come across lookalikes. For terrans, it's a common occurrence, and for some species, even more so. There's an insectoid species that resembles ants who all have the same coloring, voice range, and body type. Draqe all look precisely the same besides the ones who are higher in rank and, therefore, hold a different color and head shape. All of this is to say that it is not odd to come across someone who looks like another but still be able to mentally understand that the two are not the same. You grasp the latter, but every glance at this figure reminds you of the Baroness's daughter, Nymihli. <a data-passage="7.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Between her and her older sister, she was the quiet one. The type to keep her head down, stay out of trouble, and do whatever mother dearest ordered her to do. She complained and whined, but it hardly ever had anything to do with the servants. She was always focused on her mother's inability to give her what she wanted. Nothing would be wrong with most of that if she didn't possess such an inimical spirit. You were never chosen as one of her 'toys,' and for that, you were glad. Those she played with were never seen again, but the amount of blood you and others would be sent to clean up gave you a good enough idea. The bounty was the same dark golden tone as Nymihli, with the same silver-gray tesi. Instead of those rich emerald eyes, the bounty held cunning tawny ones. To further differentiate the two, this trarkran separated their tesi, much like a little girl wearing pigtails. "And above all," Vittorio says, projecting his voice to recapture your attention. "We need this bounty alive. No exceptions. This bounty is a joint one with a sister group that has no jurisdiction off their planet. You capture this bounty, and we ship her back to them." His eyes narrow on you. "Got it?" [[Wave him off.|7.10WaveOff]] [[“Received, boss.”|7.10ReceivedBoss]] [[Hum in acknowledgment.|7.10Hum]]
You wave him off with a languid flick of your hand, continuing to stare at the information regarding the next catch. <<include "7.11">>
"Received, boss." you sigh, ignoring the other eyes that are now on you. <<include "7.11">>
You hum in acknowledgment, feeling everyone else's eyes also on you. "Is that it? Or do you want to give me, personally, any more warnings?" <<include "7.11">>
"Per l'amor del cielo," he whispers under his breath. You show no sign of hearing him and instead, wonder if the chips for the others could decipher what he just said. You're not exactly sure if Italian is one of the main languages added. If anyone knows what he said other than you, it's Ne0. But Ne0 will never show proof of that. "Your team members, those who were here //on time// can bring you up to speed on everything you missed. Double check your gear and report to the sky car in thirty minutes." With that, he leaves the room. //Or//, I think to myself as I scroll through the information, //I can figure it all out since I have the information right here.// Zihr is the first to stand up, and you wonder how likely he is to give you that <<if $leader is "Zihr">>'as the leader, I think'<<else>>'you're the leader, and we expect better'<</if>> speech. He turns to face you, and a decision must be made. [[“I got it, go get ready.”|7.11GetReady]] [[“Just tell me about the bounty.”|7.11TellBounty]] [[Let him speak.|7.11LetSpeak]]
"I got it," you state, pointing at your screen, "go get ready." Zihr's face is blank, giving you no clue as to what he's thinking. Finally, he just does as you say and leaves. <<if $cp>>Checl and Ne0 follow<<else>>Ne0 follows<</if>> close behind. Huh … so that's what it feels like to have others actually listen to what you say. To actually leave you be when you ask for it. [[It feels great.|7.12]] [[It feels … lonely.|7.12]]
"Ah," you warn, shaking your head before he can even get a word out. "Just tell me about the bounty. If you have anything more to say, you can keep it to yourself." He rolls his eyes, almost appearing like he may just acquiesce, but then shakes his head. "<<if $cp>>Ne0, Checl, one of you do it.<<else>>Ne0, you do it.<</if>> I don't have time for ?him." He turns his words into action as he leaves, and your gaze moves to <<if $cp>>the other two.<<else>>Ne0.<</if>> <<if $cp>>\ <<if $nlulsh>>\ "I have nothing to say to ?him," Checl murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, though it's highly possible that she didn't believe your hearing to be that good. In all respects, she'd be right. A normal terrans hearing is leagues below yours, but you were enhanced, which is a fact that some either forgot or didn't seem to incorporate. She leaves Ne0 to do the debriefing, following Zihr's leadership and disappearing from the room. <<if $humor >=50>>\ "Careful, Ne0," you grin as it approaches, "I have two for three right now. I might have you groaning next about what a bad teammate I am." "No emotional proclivity." "Yea, must be nice." You gesture with your chin at it. "So, tell me about this hunt." <<else>>\ "And then there were was two of us. What do you got for me, Ne0?" <</if>>\ "Trarkran gun smuggler. Choice of weapon, smoke bombs. Highly stealthy. Charismatic. Atmospheric entry one lunar passing ago. Closing deal. Location of deal: Blaze." Hmm, a popular but notoriously shady bar. If you go in and mind your business, then you would be fine. For anyone looking to do the opposite, well, they don't typically leave unless they had a good enough reason to poke their nose into things. "Thanks, Ne0." It nods and turns to head out of the room but stops, an action that grabs your attention. "$name unsatisfied." "Why do you say that?" "Team or self?" You frown, "Zihr or Checl say something?" "Affirmative. Team or self?" "Don't worry about it, Ne0. Just go get ready." Ne0 seems dissatisfied but, like you surmise, goes anyway. Team or self? [[Both.|7.12]] [[Self.|7.12]] <<else>>\ "You know, you //were// late. There's no reason to be rude for something that is your fault." "It was rude to say I didn't want to be lectured and just wanted information? Are you about to lecture me now?" She closes her eyes and sighs, causing you to wonder if they talked about something while you weren't present. It wouldn't be a hard thing to do. You haven't been present for the past week or so. How much has developed in your absence, and why did you even care? "Most of it was sent to you," Checl explains, nodding at your still-open terminal. "Basically, the trarkran is a gun smuggler who is arming most of the big-time gangs. She's closing a deal here in Tebriri or has closed a deal. Surveillance hasn't made it clear what stage of the negotiation they're in. They're supposed to meet at the bar today, and we'll be there to detain her." You hum. "Thanks." "Yea." She turns and walks away, Ne0 close behind her. Just as she's about to leave the room, she stops and looks over at you, her eyes pleading for something you've already warned her about. <<if hasVisited("6.02NotTakingBreak")>>\ "You know we're a team, and not just because we're working together. In and out of these uniforms." You can't help but roll your eyes. Her message was the same as the one she had done earlier in the training hall. <<else>>\ "You know we're a team, and not just because we're working together. In and out of these uniforms." So many responses come to mind, but Checl is wise enough to end it there, cutting off any chance for you to respond. She's gone, and you're sitting there alone. <</if>>\ [[“Yea … I know.”|7.12]] [[“No, we're not.”|7.12]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "Alright, let me have it Ne0." The draqe stares at you blankly, its head beginning to creep to the side in a tilt. "The information. What did I miss?" It perks up. "Trarkran gun smuggler. Choice of weapon, smoke bombs. Highly stealthy. Charismatic. Atmospheric entry one lunar passing ago. Closing deal. Location of deal: Blaze." Hmm, a popular but notoriously shady bar. If you go in and mind your business then you would be fine. For anyone looking to do the opposite, well, they don't typically leave unless they had a good enough reason to go poking their nose. Looks like you'll be the poking their nose sort. "Thanks Ne0." It nods and turns to head out the room but stops, an action that grabs your attention. "$name unsatisfied." "Why do you say that?" "Team or self?" You frown, "Zihr say something?" "Affirmative. Team or self?" "Don't worry about it Ne0. Just go get ready." Ne0 seems dissatisfied but like you surmise, goes anyway. Team or self? [[Both.|7.12]] [[Self.|7.12]] <</if>>\
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you remain silent. "Despite what Vittorio claims, you didn't miss much, or at least you didn't miss anything important. Trarkran gun smuggler, arming mostly the big-time gangs. She's here to close a deal, but it's unknown if she's already done so. We're headed to the location she frequents most, but a few others may be added to the list. We'll have to figure out what to do on the way or once we get there." He stops talking, and you wait a moment longer for him to add in some lecture about how you should be punctual next time or how that was a waste of two minutes. When none of that comes, and he just simply goes, you move your attention to <<if $cp>>Checl and Ne0, seeing if one of them will clue you in on what just happened.<<else>>Ne0, seeing if the draqe will clue you in on what just happened.<</if>> <<if $cp>> Neither do, so they just leave right after him. So either they're mad at you—save for Ne0, who probably left simply because that is the next logical step—or … or what?<<else>>But that is foolish. Ne0 is just existing and will continue to do so. So, Zihr is either mad at you or … or what?<</if>> No 'or' comes to mind. [[And that is quite alright.|7.12]] [[And that bothers you.|7.12]]
With five minutes to spare, you make it to the sky car. Unlike last time, you had actually been doing something beneficial. Sifting through all the information, you also brought up blueprints of the area to pre-determine exits, entryways, places to hide snipers, etc. All the while, you wondered, what was the likelihood of running into Tsering again? Was he still in Tebriri? The part of you that knows Tsering wants to say no. He's hunting you and, therefore, wants it to be just that, a hunt. Tsering was the type to play with his food, even the food that could kick and scream and shoot him point blank with a pistol. The Tsering you know will toy with you, and only once he has had his fill or the Dinami has run out of patience will he actually try and grab you. But that Tsering also knew you. Either he would do exactly as you predicted or would do everything differently. The problem is, you don't know which one is more likely. Control. Most folks covet it like they do rare gems or precious artifacts. Everyone loved to talk about how power and money ruled the world and those who sought them but always left out the almighty control. Everyone wants it, so many believe they hold it, but no one can keep it. Control is fickle. The partner in crime to karma. The two of them enjoy wreaking havoc on poor mortals, control being the bait and karma being the reminder that no amount of skill will ever be enough for a fisherman to land a great white. You've never had control. Even the moments you thought you did, it turned out that it was all but a humorless ruse. There are ways to play control's game, to catch it and let it go before any repercussions can befall you, but that's the thing about control. It's safety and security. It's that warm beverage on the coldest of days. It's the reminder that a roof will remain over your head no matter how much the rain pours down. It is remarkably hard to let go of once you have seen what it can deliver. So sweet and so simple, inveigling all with hardly any effort on its part. It is a trap for every unlucky soul that has seen more travail than fortune. More toil than levity. And like any good trap, it can either ensnare or maim. Free is never truly free. There is always a reminder. "Ten minutes from destination," the driver's voice rings out from over the intercom, causing your companions to come to life. <a data-passage="7.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We should discuss the plan, where we'll be stationed, and what happens if the bounty isn't there<<if $leader is "Zihr">>." Zihr brings up a map of Blaze, pinging <<if $cp>>two spots.<<else>>one spot.<</if>><<else>>," Zihr brings up, glancing over at you to see if you're going to do as he suggested.<</if>> <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "Ne0<<if $cp>> and Checl<</if>>, I want <<if $cp>>the two of <</if>>you stationed out here on these two roofs in case the bounty tries to make a run for it." <<if $cp>>\ "$name, you and I will be going inside with $hound. I see no point in hiding the fact why we're there. Your ability to assess a situation is pretty good, use it. Any questions or concerns?" <<else>>\ "$name, you and I will be going inside, I see no point in hiding the fact why we're there. Also, $name, do you mind if $hound stays outside with Ne0?" <</if>>\ [[Try to alter the plan.|7.13AlterPlan][$inside to true]] [[Say nothing.|7.13SayNothing][$inside to true]] <<else>>\ <<if $cp>>\ Yawning, you bring up the map of Blaze and study it for a moment. It's your standard street layout. No alleyways, but at least two suitable buildings to place operatives on in case of a runner. If you place them on the noncontiguous buildings, then you'll have two sides easily protected. But the longer you study the area, the more you confirm it's wiser to have them standing at the front and back entrances. That leaves sending in the remaining two. Checl should go inside regardless, she's the most diplomatic one out of all of you and will be a pointless bystander if she remains on guard. [[Go inside.|7.13ML_Inside][$inside to true]] [[Stay outside.|7.13ML_Outside]] <<else>>\ Yawning, you bring up the map of Blaze and study it for a moment. It's your standard street layout. No alleyways, but at least two suitable buildings to place operatives on in case of a runner. If you place them on the noncontiguous buildings, then you'll have two sides easily protected. But the longer you study the area, the more you confirm it's wiser to have them standing at the front and back entrances. That means you only send in one or send in two and keep $hound outside to provide backup for the other. But there are obvious issues with that. Between Zihr and Ne0, you're not entirely sure who would do better inside. Seeing that it's a bar, probably Zihr as Ne0's straight-forward personality may cause more issues than you're willing to deal with at the moment. Plus, it being a draqe will probably capture far too much attention. You have no idea what will greet you inside, so it's best to stay as inconspicious as possible. Guess, you and Zihr will handle this then. "Zihr, you and I will go inside and get the bounty. Ne0, you stay out here and keep an eye out just in case she makes it past us. I'll leave $hound out here with you." "Affirmative." With the plan decided upon, you head inside with Zihr right behind you. <a data-passage="7.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
You click your tongue, swallowing back a chuckle when Zihr glares at you. You open your mouth to tell him your thoughts when he cuts you off. "No. I don't care what you think." He shakes his head in aggravation. "You can't ever just let someone else call the shots, can you?" "I'm simply giving my thoughts. I thought you would be one of those leaders who welcomed that." "I'll welcome it after you do my plan for once, without arguing to push your own. Now, let's go." He doesn't wait to hear anything you have to say, already having heard enough based on his attitude. Sighing, you decide to play along. If this goes horribly wrong, you can, at the very least, blame it all on him for not wishing to hear you out. If it goes right, then you'll never have to hear him talk about how you have never gone along with his plan. <<include "7.14">>
<<if $cp>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $checlinside to true>><</nobr>>\ "Checl and I will go inside and secure the bounty. Zihr, you and Ne0 stay out here and make sure she doesn't slip out without us knowing." "Alright. Just ..." He breathes in deeply, his gaze focused on you. "Don't forget what we're here for. We need that bounty //alive//." You wave him off as you give $hound the signal to stay, then you and Checl enter the establishment. <<else>>\ "Zihr, you and I will go inside and get the bounty. Ne0, you stay out here and keep an eye out just in case she makes it past us. I'll leave $hound out here with you." "Affirmative." With the plan decided upon, you head inside with Zihr right behind you. <</if>>\ <<include "7.14">>
"You and Checl should enter," you say to Zihr. "Me, Ne0, and $hound will stay out here and cover the exits." "I won't disagree," Checl answers, shrugging while Zihr nods. You ponder if he's all too happy to be partnered up with Checl. The duo enters the establishment while you turn to Ne0 to decide where the two of you will go. "Cover the back, Ne0. Me and $hound will stay here, shout if you need me." "Comms more effective." "Whatever floats your boat," you sigh, waving it off. You start to check your gun until you remember what this bounty calls for and decide to stow it. If it's not in your hands, you won't have to worry about it. Checking for your other weapons, you glance over toward the bar and wonder what's going on. Zihr may not inspire much hope, but Checl should be able to handle the situation with ease. Not only that, but you believe she's hoping to prove herself. Every bounty up to this point has been violent, no talking necessary. This is the first one where that is not the case. You only wish you had given yourself an interesting enough job. Leaning against a pole, you start to relax just as the bar descends into chaos. You hear shouting and gunshots ring out. Immediately, you right yourself, launching yourself toward the entrance. Rushing to the door, you are just barely quick enough to avoid it slamming into your face as a figure rushes out, running straight into you. Regaining your senses, you flip the person off of you, and then lock them in place, making sure to be gentle enough in case its someone you know. The first thing that hits you is the smell. Your nostrils flare as the smell of sulfur infiltrates your senses. It permeates from her like a strong perfume. The sun feels like it's nearly burning your skin, and swallowing becomes difficult. You choke on the pervasive fumes as you open your mouth to breathe. //Breathe!// You scream at yourself, but none of it works. //Focus then. Focus.// But there's so much blood, and that caustic element is burning your nose. She's laughing with every hit and kick. Camila is right there, forced to watch. Forced to stand there and say nothing, but unable to look away. The trarkran bounty rests below you, her face filled with rage as she attempts to get out of your hold. You stare into those hate-filled eyes and flashes of people you know are absent appear: ordering drinks, laughing at the tables, dancing casually on the floor. You blink them away, attempting to focus on the smuggler and the struggle. She thrashes, kneeing you in the stomach as she tries to shift her weight. Moving so that her second kick can't land, her hand reaches out and grabs hold of your neck. <a data-passage="7.14.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You gasp, your heart racing as fear grips you and a chill rides your spine despite how hot everything seems to have gotten. It's Devina. //No, it's Nymihli.// Devina. //Nymihli.// Everything inside of you screams. You can't run. You're already frozen. You see her reaching for something, and your hand creeps towards your knife, needing to protect yourself for the first time ever. Your head shouts a warning against such rash action. If you kill her, then what will the Baron think? What will your punishment be? The entire trarkran army will be on your back, and they will make you pay. But … but this isn't just for you. This is for Camila. You have to keep her safe. You must. With the knife in your clutches, you yell as you plunge it into her side, ripping it out to thrust it right back in again and again. Something deep inside of you twists in glee, cackling as you repeat the action. Some place deep feels like it relaxes, as if some kind of twisted justice is playing out before you. Both of you are nothing more than puppets dangling from sloppily braided strings, dancing in the grasp of another. But it doesn't matter, because you are on top. You have protected the remaining Genisers from so much torture and pain. Your hand shakes as the bloody knife drops to the ground and the woman stops her struggle, now lying prone. You killed her. But … you didn't. Devina is still alive. You know she's still alive. She was alive the last time you saw her, before everything became smoke and death. You place your hand on your forehead only to jump at the feeling of something wet meeting your skin. Your hand is covered in crimson. Devina's blood. But Devina is alive. Cautiously, you raise your gaze to look at the woman lying prone in front of you. Not Devina. Nymihli. You killed Nymihli. Your body begins to shiver tempestuously. You killed her daughter, and when she finds out, she will want revenge. Camila. You need to find Camila and save her. This is all your fault. It's always your fault. You just sealed the fate of the only family you have left. No, this can't be happening. Anything but this. "$name!" you hear someone scream, but there's no one there. Nothing but a scorching sun against a pink and blue sky … pink and blue. Miarilia's sky held pink but was never blue. The closest it has ever gotten to such a terran tone was when the lilac hues of the sunset deepened into its more indigo tones. It usually foretold a silica storm. Yes, you remember how the fog would soon after breach the atmosphere, adopting a sluggish pace as it covered the land and foretold what would soon follow. You remember this ... you don't remember it ever being a tint like that of the ocean. <a data-passage="7.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp is false>>You shake your head at the question, making a mental note to give $hound the command once you reach the area. <</if>>The plan sounds solid enough and so you remain quiet. Instead, you imagine how you'll enter. The bar's design was simple. You aren't storming a fortress or having to figure out your way through some elaborate design meant to be perplexing. The front door is the front door, the back is probably for employees only. And there would be a side entrance, something not exactly obvious for those dealing in illegal matters can pass through with little trouble. Well, there goes a problem. You frown as you bring up a map of Blaze. It won't show you where this entrance is, but the layout can at least give you some kind of idea. <<if $cp>>Checl and Ne0 will be in the wrong place to catch someone slipping out, so you'll have to make sure to make their job easier.<<else>>Ne0 will have a lot to cover, so you'll have to make sure to make its job easier.<</if>> With that, Zihr nods and you all return to a more silent existence, waiting to reach your destination. <<include "7.14">>
Inside, most of the tables are vacant, with random groups of acquaintances sprinkled throughout. Only three figures sit at the bar, each looking as tired as the previous. A few heads pick up to look at you, but they naturally drift back to their conversations after finding you hold less interest than whatever they are discussing. Your target sits at the end, far enough away that she seems to have chosen the spot specifically to be both inconspicuous and easily found if someone knew who to look for. <<if $checlinside>>Exchanging a glance with Checl, you meander towards your target, Checl taking the lead as you take up the rear. Your steps falter as you grow near.<<else>>Exchanging a glance with Zihr, you meander towards your target, your steps faltering as you near.<</if>> Some part of you was hoping her photo was outdated. That the uncanny resemblance was just a phase that the smuggler had moved past. It wasn't, and while sense tells you this is not Nymihli, your brain begs to differ. <<if $checlinside>>\ "Hi," Checl greets, causing you to zone back in just as she raises her hands in a surrender-like way. Somewhere between now and thinking about her picture, you found yourself right beside her. You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking a few times as you try to calm what you believe are nerves. "I think you know who we are and why we are here." "Oh, look at the sweetheart," she laughs, and you flinch. The voice is so different, yet your brain shifts her tone and accent to perfectly mirror Devina's. "You think I'm going to follow you out of here, no problems, if you ask nicely?" "I'm going to be the one to ask nicely; my friend here won't. We were told to bring you in alive. Your life is obviously valuable." "Which means you have the hard role here. You need to persuade me to come with you with no issue." She leaves her seat, sauntering up to the two of you. Flashes of people you know are absent appear: ordering drinks, laughing at the tables, dancing casually on the floor. You blink them away, attempting to focus on the smuggler as she leans in. Your nostrils flare as the smell of sulfur infiltrates your senses. It permeates from her like a strong perfume. The sun feels like it's nearly burning your skin, and swallowing becomes difficult. You choke on the pervasive fumes as you open your mouth to breathe. //Breathe!// You scream at yourself, but none of it works. //Focus then. Focus.// But there's so much blood, and that caustic element is burning your nose. She's laughing with every hit and kick. Camila is right there, forced to watch. Forced to stand there and say nothing, but unable to look away. <<else>>\ "Don't make this difficult," Zihr states, causing you to zone back in just as he takes a threatening step toward her. Somewhere between now and thinking about her picture, you found yourself right beside her. You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking a few times as you try to calm what you believe are nerves. "It's simple. Come with us, don't get hurt." The man behind the bar wastes no time grabbing a gun, along with everyone else in the bar. You were really hoping that they were all independent. The spacing and the mellow mood had made it seem like this would be a one-on-one conversation. "Whoa!" Zihr voices, trying to defuse the situation by lifting his hands in surrender. You step back and lower your hand to your weapon as you look from the now-armed customers to the smug-looking trarkran. She leaves her seat, sauntering up to the two of you. Flashes of people you know are absent appear: ordering drinks, laughing at the tables, dancing casually on the floor. You blink them away, attempting to focus on the smuggler as she leans in. Your nostrils flare as the smell of sulfur infiltrates your senses. It permeates from her like a strong perfume. The sun feels like it's nearly burning your skin, and swallowing becomes difficult. You choke on the pervasive fumes as you open your mouth to breathe. //Breathe!// You scream at yourself, but none of it works. //Focus then. Focus.// But there's so much blood, and that caustic element is burning your nose. She's laughing with every hit and kick. Camila is right there, forced to watch. Forced to stand there and say nothing, but unable to look away. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="7.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $checlinside>>\ "Or am I supposed to now face the wrath of your friend?" she asks. Your eyes slowly crawl over to the woman. It's Devina. //No, it's Nymihli.// Devina. //Nymihli.// Everything inside of you screams. You can't run. You're already frozen. You see her reaching for something, and your hand creeps towards the knife, needing to protect yourself for the first time ever. Your head shouts a warning against such rash action. If you kill her, then what will the Baron think? What will your punishment be? The entire trarkran army will be on your back, and they will make you pay. But … but this isn't just for you. This is for Camila. You have to keep her safe. You must. With the knife in your clutches, you yell as you plunge it into her side, ripping it out to thrust it right back in again and again. <<else>>\ "Not so brave anymore, huh?" she asks. Your eyes slowly crawl over to the woman. It's Devina. //No, it's Nymihli.// Devina. //Nymihli.// Everything inside of you screams. You can't run. You're already frozen. You see her reaching for something, and your hand creeps towards the knife, needing to protect yourself for the first time ever. Your head shouts a warning against such rash action. If you kill her, then what will the Baron think? What will your punishment be? The entire trarkran army will be on your back, and they will make you pay. But … but this isn't just for you. This is for Camila. You have to keep her safe. You must. With the knife in your clutches, you yell as you plunge it into her side, ripping it out to thrust it right back in again and again. <</if>>\ Something deep inside of you twists in glee, cackling as you repeat the action. Some place deep feels like it relaxes, as if some kind of twisted justice is playing out before you. Both of you are nothing more than puppets dangling from sloppily braided strings, dancing in the grasp of another. But it doesn't matter, because you are on top. You have protected the remaining Genisers from so much torture and pain. Your hand shakes as the bloody knife drops and clatters against the floor along with the woman's body. You killed her. But … you didn't. Devina is still alive. You know she's still alive. She was alive the last time you saw her, before everything became smoke and death. You place your hand on your forehead only to jump at the feeling of something wet meeting your skin. Your hand is covered in crimson. Devina's blood. But Devina is alive. Cautiously, you raise your gaze to look at the woman lying prone in front of you. Not Devina. Nymihli. You killed Nymihli. Your body begins to shiver tempestuously. You killed her daughter, and when she finds out, she will want revenge. Camila. You need to find Camila and save her. This is all your fault. It's always your fault. You just sealed the fate of the only family you have left. No, this can't be happening. Anything but this. "$name!" you hear someone scream, but there's no one there. Nothing but a scorching sun against a pink and blue sky … pink and blue. Miarilia's sky held pink but was never blue. The closest it has ever gotten to such a terran tone was when the lilac hues of the sunset deepened into its more indigo tones. It usually foretold a silica storm. Yes, you remember how the fog would soon after breach the atmosphere, adopting a sluggish pace as it covered the land and foretold what would soon follow. You remember this ... you don't remember it ever being a tint like that of the ocean. <a data-passage="7.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>\ The touch of something cold runs down your cheek, and you blink, exhaling like it has been years in the making. Only a few inches away is Checl, her eyes wide with worry as she draws her hand back. "I'm sorry," she stutters, "I didn't know what to do, and you were crying." You rub your face as if not believing her words. The feeling of wetness on the back of your wrist at least calms you down more, reminds you where you are. [[“Forgot I had tear ducts.”|7.16TearDucts][$humor +=5]] [[“I'm fine.”|7.16Fine][$humor -=5]] [[“It's okay. Thanks.”|7.16OkayThanks]] <<else>>\ You feel a slight pinch followed by a euphoric calmness that feels more like you're waking from a good night of sleep. Blinking, you attempt to become reacquainted with the world and the actions that led to you ending up out here. With Ne0 staring at you and invading all sense of personal space. Despite being awake, your energy continues to stagnate. A lazy haze keeping you down. "Ne0!" you groan, shifting slowly, "what did you just do?" "Sedatives administered." You sigh, closing your eyes as the drug rushes through your system, calming every part of you down in what feels like a very involuntary manner. "We really gotta teach you about consent." "Consent. A voluntary agreement between two or more parties." "Yes. Exactly. Did I give you permission to pump me with sedatives?" "Negative." "So what will you do next time?" "Acquire $name's consent." "Congratulations, you passed the test." "Query." "Hmm?" "Scenario. $name unconscious." "If it's to save my life then you have permission to do whatever. If I'm just unconscious, leave me. It's probably the best sleep I'll get in years." You lie there for a few more minutes before realizing that Ne0 is still there, it's arm outstretched to help you to your feet. Sighing, you graciously accept its help, finding your body has gone into what feels like an odd state of shock. Adrenaline immediately tempered by sedatives makes for a nasty concoction. <a data-passage="7.16.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Ah," you chuckle lightly, the sound hardly conveying the tone you are going for. "I forgot I had tear ducts." "Nothing about this is funny, $name." She pulls away, standing as she turns her back to you. "You killed that woman and you were shouting names and ... Why can't you just talk to us. To me? Something is so clearly going on and it's destroying you and you would rather be destroyed than just say what's bothering you." <<include "7.16.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "It's fine," you state, steading your voice and failing. "I'm fine." She jerks back, her once concerned gaze turning to righteous fire as she glares down at you. "Fine?! What part of what you just did or went through is a sign of you being fine? You killed that woman and you were shouting names and ... You would really rather destroy yourself than tell any of us what's bothering you." <<include "7.16.1">>
"It's okay. Thanks." Other words appear to try and calm her down but you don't have the energy to utter them. Also, her actions seem to say she doesn't wish to hear them anyway as she moves away from you, pacing before glaring at you. "That's it? How about telling me what happened back there? Or what has gotten you so scared that you have devoted your life to training and nothing else? How about finally being honest with me?! You killed that woman and you were shouting names and ... Why would you rather destroy yourself than tell any of us what's going on?" <<include "7.16.1">>
No. You don't have the bandwidth right now to deal with this, not when there is blood on your hands and another failed hunt for you to now contend with. You killed Nymihli ... no, the bounty. Part of you wants to reject that reality, far too happy to dwell in a world where Nymihli was no more. But you remember plunging that knife into the woman's side, again and again. You shiver, feeling the hard stare of Checl still on you. Regardless of how you respond, your heart is still thundering along in your chest. It feels like it takes every amount of willpower and bodily control to minimize your quivering hands. You open your mouth to say as much. To stop the onslaught and whatever will come next but Checl beats you to it. "Not now, Checl! Later, Checl. Enough! Why am I constantly penalized for caring about you?" "You're not penalized for caring," you sigh. "You're penalized for trying to dig too deep. If I'm not comfortable telling you stuff then that's the end of it." "Even when those things put me in danger? So, I'm supposed to be fine with watching someone I care about hurt and bleed and never try to help? You tell me not to trust you but when it comes to life and death situations, you tell me to just follow you. You can't have it both ways!" <<if $checlRoPo >=3>>She chokes on her next words, taking a moment before shaking her head and balling her hands into fists. "You do all these things to make me think you care but then tell me that it won't ever happen." A wave of anger washes over you. Words you never said and will probably continue to never say enter and exit.<</if>> "We're doing this now? You want to have this out now?" "No," she says a bit too calmly. "No. Not now, not later, not ever because //you// say." She turns, marching away and leaving you with a headache. You should be used to this. This sort of spiral that appears abruptly. It's never heralded by a good day or some obvious omen, no, that would be far too easy. It is just like this. Normal and average days that take a turn and continuously dip until you feel you are standing at the bottom of a pit with no true understanding of how far down. Unsteadily, you get to your feet and start to look around, pausing when you see Zihr carrying a body to one of the Nightwalkers' transport vehicles. Something inside of you twists. <<if $attitude >=50>>You have killed plenty, but none because of a panic attack. You murdered her, there's nothing more to it, and it doesn't sit right with you.<<else>>It's not the twisting itself that bothers you, but what it means. As you watch her body get carted off, you attempt to find an inkling of care. Something within that understands you murdered this woman and should feel a form of pity or sadness, but you find nothing.<</if>> <a data-passage="7.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What happened?" "Bounty murdered." You shouldn't be surprised. You killed Nymihli ... no, the bounty. Part of you wants to reject that reality, far too happy to dwell in a world where Nymihli was no more. But you remember plunging that knife into the woman's side, again and again. You shiver, your heart still thundering along in your chest. It feels like it takes every amount of willpower and bodily control to minimize your quivering hands. You can feel it coming, a spiral that has a tendency to appear abruptly. It's never heralded by a good day or some obvious omen, no, that would be far too easy. It is just like this. Normal and average days that take a turn and continuously dip until you feel you are standing at the bottom of a pit with no true understanding of how far down. Unsteadily, you get to your feet and start to look around, pausing when you see Zihr carrying a body to one of the Nightwalkers' transport vehicles. Something inside of you twists. <<if $attitude >=50>>You have killed plenty, but none because of a panic attack. You murdered her, there's nothing more to it, and it doesn't sit right with you.<<else>>It's not the twisting itself that bothers you, but what it means. As you watch her body get carted off, you attempt to find an inkling of care. Something within that understands you murdered this woman and should feel a form of pity or sadness, but you find nothing.<</if>> <a data-passage="7.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Aid required?" Ne0 asks and though you don't answer it, it sticks by your side, allowing you to lean against it as you walk back towards the idle sky car. Zihr stands beside it, his face a perfect mask of apathy. So well done that it even bothers you as there is a lack of any shouting or retribution being delivered from him to you. "Not going to give me a lecture?" "No," he shrugs. "I figured that you'll get all of that back at headquarters. Why add my voice when it isn't needed?" That's never stopped him before, you point out to yourself. You move to get inside and take a seat when Zihr moves just enough to halt your progress. "But. If this comes back on the rest of us then you will be hearing that and much more." If you didn't know better, you'd say Zihr just threatened you. Producing a low snort that he probably doesn't even manage to hear, you get in. <a data-passage="7.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're not even entirely out of the sky car when your terminal begins to ring. An automatic voice states, "$name Moran, you are to report to the Supreme Commander's office, post haste." It shuts off, and you feel like the air surrounding you drops to negative numbers. It bypassed Sin completely, that's never a good sign. You haven't been ignoring it, but you had set the idea of all of this tipping over on its side far to the side of your mind. No point in thinking of what will happen when you cannot outrun the consequences. "Ne0," you say, already moving towards the building, "can you take $hound to my room?" "Consenting." Walking into the lobby, you head straight to the elevator and ride it to the proper floor. Each step feels like a new and heavier weight is being placed on your shoulder. The aggravator snickering for every wobble you exhibit. Wholly enraptured by their own actions. //Get a hold of yourself. It's done with. There's nothing you can do now.// Nearing the closed door, you hear two voices from within. <a data-passage="7.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Sin, I know you. I know that your curiosity can get the better of you and blind you to the reality of things, but-" "Don't. I know what you're about to say. This isn't me … this isn't about //that//." "Isn't it? Sin, it's done with. This random terran isn't about to change what has passed. And ?he sure won't fix what happened back then." "In all respects, I know that. I know that better than anyone; the second person who should know that is you. $name is not me seeking redemption." "Then what <<verb "is">> ?he?" There is silence before you hear a chair move. "In trouble from the looks of it and your next appointment." The door opens, and Sin departs, glancing over at you and sighing. "Get in there, $name." [[“Warming her up for me?”|7.19WarmingHerUp]] [[“How bad?”|7.19HowBad]] [[“Sin, I …”|7.19SinI]] [[Let out an unsteady breath.|7.19Unsteady]]
"Warming her up for me, I see." Sin pauses, looking as if they will say something, but at the last moment, they don't. They simply keep walking. <<include "7.20">>
"How bad?" "Don't ask me stupid questions, $name. Just go in," Sin mumbles as they walk past you and down the hall. <<include "7.20">>
"Sin, I …" you start but have no way of ending that sentence. A thought not fully formed rushing to get out. You what? You're sorry? You didn't mean for this to happen? You believed you had more control over something as ferine as trauma? Words are said simply for the sake of speaking. Something that Sin knows as they don't even stop to entertain whatever you wish to say. <<include "7.20">>
Approaching the door, you let out an unsteady breath. //You did it. Get over it.// Your mind continuously repeats and yet does nothing for your rising anxiety. <<include "7.20">>
"Moran," the Supreme Commander greets as you walk in, "take a seat." She fiddles with one of her chin spikes, seeming to find far more amusement in her idle actions than she could ever find in entertaining the sole guest in her office. "Feel free to correct me on anything that is not factual. The bounty that you received today detailed that the bounty in question was to be captured alive. That this was part of a joint effort with a sister organization, and the target was vital for their investigation. Is this correct?" "Look, it was just a hunt gone bad," you mumble. "That's the second time, Moran!" Supreme Commander Mahgunta yells. "Right now you are <<if $bounty1 is "alive">>one for two, and don't mistake what looks like balance, because I'm still not pleased.<<else>>zero for two.<</if>> I don't give a damn what those simulation ranking boards say, I have never met a more frustratingly supposedly competent hunter. If you're going to fail, then fail like normal hunters fail. By getting into something way too over their head, not by fucking up with precision." This is what a genuine backward compliment must feel like, a sharp slap with the word praise written on the palm. To make it worse, it's all done by //her//. <<if $moran_xeno>>Bile rises at the thought of her and all those like her. She had the nerve to scream at you after all her people had done. They are disgusting colonizers and slavers, and no matter what part of the galaxy they exist, they believe themselves to be in charge. The thought of finally knocking them off their self-placed pedestal and back down to the ash and dirt strikes you as such a beautiful scene. But no. You'll sit and comply.<<else>>She isn't the Baroness. Nor is she the Baroness's daughters. And yet, you can't help but imagine them all as the same person. Trarkran women were worse than the men because they were the ones in charge, and so each and every one of them held a superiority complex that defied all manner of grandstanding. The need to scream back comes and goes like a subtle, frequent scent. Your nose wished to keep the smell, to forever label it under the current memory so that the two were tied for eternity. But in the end, it fails. You fail. You simply sit and listen.<</if>> <a data-passage="7.21"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Control. "For someone with limited prospects, you are beyond cocky," she continues. "I neither care nor know how other organizations treated you, but I will not tolerate this anymore. You could be the most skilled hunter I've ever come across, and I would still rather see you on the other side of those doors than ever claim someone volatile managed to find a home with my hunters. I don't care what dots cover your body, you are not special. Do you hear me?!" [[Defend yourself.|7.21Defend][$nightwalkers -=3]] [[“Yes.”|7.22][$nightwalkers +=3]]
"I-" is all you manage to get out before Mahgunta pounds her desk in disapproval. "I asked you a yes or no question. So answer." <<include "7.22">>
"Yes, ma'am," you say through clenched teeth. Why did it always revert back to your markings? You could run your mouth, and someone would deem you cocky because of the mystery behind them. You could punch someone square in the jaw, and they would swear the markings gave you the strength. Well … the latter isn't technically wrong, but it still highlighted one of your biggest vexations with those surrounding you. They didn't see you or even dare to give you credit; that was all saved for your markings. You were your markings, and that was that. "You are temporarily suspended until //I// deem whether or not your team is better with or without you. And if it is indeed the latter, you will be on the first ride back to whatever prison you were originally meant to serve time in. That decision will be made by tomorrow. Coupled with your suspension, your access to any training grounds is revoked since you obviously are not using them as advertised." She puffs out her chest, narrowing her eyes before sharply motioning towards the door with her chin. "Dismissed." <a data-passage="7.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Surprisingly, you make it to your room before exhaustion finally claims you. Your back hits the door as you slide down to the floor. Closing your eyes, you take numerous breaths. Yet again, the idea of control comes to mind and just how much of it you lack. If she decides that's it, then there's nothing you can do. They'll ship you back to the prison, and you'll either go into cold-sleep or become real familiar with that tiny little cell. You suppose that the positive part of all that is that you won't experience it for long; the Dinami will come for you in a month's time. Or … or they'll see your imprisonment as a nice little joke and keep you there for a bit. A soft purr causes you to glance up as $hound comes to your side, plopping on the ground beside you as he rests part of his head on your leg. Chuckling, you give the area near his spikes a good patting down. [[“What would you do?”|7.23WouldYouDo]] [[“I fucked up again, huh?”|7.23FuckedUpAgain]] [[“I'm starting to get lost.”|7.23GetLost]]
"If we switched spots, what would you do?" $hound doesn't move, no reaction at all towards your words. "Ah," you hum. "I'll take that as you saying that you would much rather stay an aiczeots than ever switch spots with me." You close your eyes. "Can't say I blame you for that one." Everything was fucked up. <<include "7.24">>
"I really fucked up this time, huh?" <<include "7.24">>
"I'm starting to think I don't know what I'm doing anymore, $hound. Like I'm trying to live another life that isn't mine and is going poorly. I'm messing it all up." <<include "7.24">>
Not just in the bounty but in this whole plan and how well you thought it would turn out. You're a hit-$man; you had no business trying to walk the path of a hunter. For this past year, you've been getting far too comfortable with playing pretend. None of this is who you are. But then … who are you? Are you nothing more than the walking experiment that the Baron created you into? Or the killer that the Dinami tortured out of you? You can't be that wide-eyed little kid that grew up on Genesis, right? Nor could you possibly be the bounty hunter from the Outlands. After all that, what's left? What fragments are left to pick up and combine to make a malformed picture? Your door buzzes, warning you of a visitor. Standing, you swipe over on the identification screen and see … //The following scenes are romantic in nature. Only characters that pass the checks will appear and you can only choose one this time around. If only Ne0's name appears then you do not have enough romance points with anyone (Tsering obviously not counting and Checl not being included).// <<if $sinRoPo >=3>>\ [[Commander Sin.|7.24Sin][$sinRoPo +=1]] <</if>>\ <<if $zihrRoPo >=3>>\ [[Zihr.|7.24Zihr][$zihrRoPo +=1]] <</if>>\ [[Ne0.|7.24Ne0]]
Your brow furrows, but there are several reasons you can think of that would have caused Commander Sin to come and see you. Sliding the lock on the screen over, the door slides open, and Sin gives you a nod. "Suspended, huh?" "Did you expect something else?" "Yes, she let you off easy. Many wish for you to just be sent away and have been telling her as much." The words almost cause you to twitch, especially since you need no explanation as to why. The need to scream slowly begins to overwhelm you, but you quell it before anything makes it past your lips. The fight dies in your throat, leaving you feeling almost empty. "Hey." You realize that you had zoned out with Sin still there. "I want to show you something." They gesture for you to come but you don't immediately. "Unless you're busy," Sin hums with a knowing smirk. Rolling your eyes, you leave to follow them, allowing $hound to tag along. Heading to the elevator, you watch as they punch a few extra numbers in, and you're headed up. There is an attempt to figure out your destination, but your mind comes up blank. You're even more confused when the floor stops at the top and opens to a short staircase. <a data-passage="7.24Sin2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Come along," they sing, heading up the nearest flight of stairs. "Where are we?" "Where's your sense of adventure?" "Dead and gone," you snort. "I haven't really been that type for a while." "I find that it's never too late to bring back old habits." They stop and shrug. "As long as they're healthy, at least." A few more stairs later and, you approach a door. Sin types something into the panel, and it dings, a green light reflected back as they open it, and your eyes widen. You find yourself on the roof of the headquarters, overlooking the city of Tebriri from a spectacular view. Glancing up, you're met by the distant stars, not quite on display due to the lit-up sky. But still, they feel close and that feeling alone feels right. "The code is 521 for the elevator and …" Sin slows before sighing, typing something in their abacus before you receive a ding. "And I just sent you the identification for the door. You should be able to come up here when you like now." Your mouth opens and closes as you stare at the notification. Each time you think you have come up with something to say, it disappears or is filed away as 'no, that's not good enough.' You imagine you look like that of a fish attempting to breathe on land, searching hopelessly for a lake that is no longer there. [[“What do you want?”|7.24WhatWant]] [[“Why do this?”|7.24SWhyDoThis]] [[“Thank you?”|7.24SThankYou]]
"What do you want?" you ask, or more so you think, as the words never make it out. You hold back; not sure if that is the wisest thing to say. Your mind comes up with all of the things they could say in retaliation, and you find your rebuttals lacking. <<include "7.24Sin3">>
"Why do this?" you ask, or more so, you wish to ask. You find yourself curious about what they may want in exchange, but something tells you to keep such thoughts to yourself. If they said something rude, then what would your response be? The same can be asked about if they said something nice. <<include "7.24Sin3">>
"Thank you?" you ask or say … or no, none of that because the words never make it past the brainstorming process in your mind before being scrapped. It would be appropriate, but you doubt it would sound like a statement and morph into a query that Sin would not know the answer to. And if they did know the answer to it, you're not sure you wish to hear it. <<include "7.24Sin3">>
They walk off towards the railing, glancing around before shaking their head and turning to look over their shoulder at you. "What is it about this sight that grips you?" At first, you're unsure what they mean, but replaying their words, you hear the tiniest trace of fear. You huff. "Are you afraid of heights?" "There is no ground," they remind you. "The closer I am to the ground, the more comfortable I feel. Unless I'm standing on something like a tree." "I'd hate to see you in a starship." "Layka willing, you never will," they laugh. It reminds you of when you first met, how at ease you felt around them, and how dangerous that made them. One would think the time you've spent around them would ease any lingering chariness. It scares you even more to not know. <a data-passage="7.24Sin4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It's not the sight," you tell them, approaching the railing and confidently swinging yourself over. You half expect Sin to discourage you, but they seem content with hanging back and letting you do as you please. You continue. "It's just the feeling of being closer to the sky, I think. Or maybe being able to overlook everything. Makes me feel less small." "Less small?" they ask incredulously. "I'm looking down or straight ahead, not up." "And the moments where you do look up?" [[“A reminder.”|7.24SReminder]] [[“Peace.”|7.24SPeace]] [[“I don't know.”|7.24SIDK]]
"A reminder," you state as you do just that. A reminder that you are one fragment of something even smaller among all this. Some have said a single speck of cosmic dust, but even that feels too grand a scale. Maybe on Genesis or even Prime, but not out here amongst hundreds of other sentient species. Not out here where distant stars shape themselves into solar systems and galaxies and supernovas. <<include "7.24Sin5K">>
"Peace," you shrug, glancing at the sky and fighting the small smile that wishes to appear. Peace because there is a lack of judgment amongst the stars. They do not war with one another, and as far as you are concerned, they exist right next to one another with no issue. Some shimmer far more brilliantly, but those less dim worry not. It means nothing, simply that they're farther away. A light that takes dozens of years longer to travel to your sight. A thought that feels silly, but in the end, it brings peace. And that is something you don't usually come across. <<include "7.24Sin5">>
"I don't know," you answer truthfully as you look to the filament to provide an answer, but of course, it is as silent as always. One day, perhaps it will provide you with some kind of clue. Something to help you figure it all out. You estimate it won't be anytime soon. <<include "7.24Sin5">>
"Regardless," Sin starts, "I'm pleased you enjoy being able to finally escape here." You stiffen. "So, what? You want answers in exchange for showing me this? Hoping to get some part of the secret before the Supreme Commander ships me back out?" Sin laughs, shaking their head as they peer over at you. "Not everything is a transaction. Have you ever heard of a thing called a gift?" "Yes, and even those come with little strings attached. Translucent strings that the gifter pulls at the most inconvenient times." "You know little about me. This much I understand. So, let me save you the time of learning this on your own and simply tell you. If I need something, I ask for it. If I want a question answered, I ask it and await an answer. If I don't receive one and it's in my means to learn it on my own, I do that. I have never taken or demanded something that is not mine to demand. I'm not that kind of //skuwim//." Sin's gaze has an odd effect on you. Part of you wishes to crumple up and disappear under a stare that is meant to be heavy. But there is a greater side that wants to continue meeting it. It feels no fear; in fact, it feels much of the opposite, peace. "Thank you," you finally manage to say. However, why did those words take so long to escape you? You're unsure whether or not you can truly trust their words and the deeper meaning behind them. Not because they themselves are a liar but because some damage has stretched far too deep. A rot that has branched deeper and deeper until it reached your core and ensnared it with mephitic toxins so nothing else dared come near. And nothing has … no one has. "But still, why?" <a data-passage="7.24Sin6"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Sin cocks their head to the side, staring at you for a moment before sighing, much like a teacher who has used up the rest of their sufferance. "Do you really not understand what a gift is?" "No. I mean, why do you care about doing any of this for me? I doubt your other charges get this much attention. I know my other teammates don't." "You would be correct," they respond so readily as if the answer is just as apparent as the meaning of a gift. "I know I have not exactly said it outright but have I not made it obvious that I'm interested in you?" Yes. No. You're not sure. You're not sure of a lot of things. There is something so pleasant in their matter-of-fact and straight-to-the-point answers. They leave no room for doubts or clarifying questions. And yet, it terrifies you. [[“And when you get those answers?”|7.24SAnswers]] [[“Your curiosity will get you in trouble.”|7.24SCuriosity]] [[“Interested in me?”|7.24SInterestedInMe]]
"And when you finally get the answers to those mind-boggling questions? What happens when you figure me out and there's no more mystery?" They laugh, giving you such a pleasant, warm smile that you force yourself to turn away. But their words are just as smooth and warm. "I highly doubt you will ever be anything less than a mystery to me. Questions answered or not. I could know everything about you, and countless questions would still arise." <<include "7.24Sin7">>
"I know you've been told this before, but I can't help but restate it. Your curiosity will truly find you in trouble." "With my superiors or far more personal matters?" "Both," you mumble. "One is far more enjoyable than the other," they chuckle. "Yes. Until the other proves to be much more life-altering." <<include "7.24Sin7">>
"Interested in me," you repeat, wishing to say more but the words hang in your throat and you find yourself unable to say more. Whether out of fear of what their answer would be or due to what you will awaken if you say it. None of it is clear but your mind feels like it grows foggy, trying to understand mysteries that were never meant to be explained. <<include "7.24Sin7">>
Sin seems to understand your discomfort and turns so that their body focuses on you. They wish to reach out with their bottom two arms, but a moment of doubt causes them to draw back. "If this is uncomfortable because I am your superior or that I'm older, then you simply need to tell me as much. I understand that some feel … odd about such differences. Shaphs have never held such taboos." A headache skirting the outskirts of your head finally decides to move in and claim you. Sin was indeed speaking of an interest that goes beyond mere fascination with a being and who they were. <a data-passage="7.24Sin8"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You don't know me," you start. "I don't know you." "You have never asked questions. But I know enough about you to find my interest genuine." "Would you answer any questions I asked?" "I have very little to hide. But I won't say that I'd be open to answering all of your questions all at once either. Different pasts don't mean one is less dark than the other." "So then why are you interested in me at all?" They gaze at you in confusion. "You do know how relationships begin? Interest and the want to discover more." You hear them. You understand them. But your mind still refuses to move past the revelation that Sin's interest goes beyond mere fascination with your markings and past career. They were interested in either a deeply platonic or romantic way, and you aren't sure which, and you are far too scared to glean which it may be. Are you interested in either? Does it matter? Will it ever? Your future will take you in the opposite direction. There is no future here. No future with them. Not a fair future anyway. "I need to head back inside," you mumble, turning and almost stumbling. Sin reaches out to steady you, but you jerk away, watching a host of emotions appear on their face. Disappointment and understanding rest in their eyes, reflected back at you. Yes, that's much better. Better now than later when you've let your imaginations run wild and have forgotten all sorts of sense. "I have trouble learning lessons as well," they mumble more than say to you. "You know how to get up here now. I'm sorry if anything I said made you uncomfortable." You doubt you'll ever see an exit like the one they make. Dignified but still fleeing the scene of the crime. You can't help but respect them as they go, even though the awkward air has made itself comfortable in what should be open and free air. You stay true to your word, leaving the roof and oppressive atmosphere behind. The door closes, and you rest against it, thanking the cold steel as you wrestle erratic thoughts back into place. You fail. <a data-passage="7.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Zihr. He probably heard about your suspension and decided to come by and shout about how you continuously seem set on fucking him and the team over with your actions. You almost choose to keep the door closed, finding yourself in no mood for //another// verbal lashing. You suppose if he starts, you can just close the door in his face; you'll even get a little chuckle from it. Pressing the button, the door slides open, and Zihr seems shocked that you responded. "Um." He clears his throat. "We heard about the suspension." You raise a hand, not interrupting him but ending whatever else he may have been cooking up. "Let me stop you right there. If you decided to come by to give me a piece of your mind, keep it." "What," he questions in shock, though a hint of understanding enters his eye that causes him to lower his hackles. Grumbling, he says, "No. That's not why I came by. I wanted to ask if you wanted to find something to eat." "The dining hall is closed," you remind, taking a quick glance at your wrist to make sure. "I meant a restaurant out there." He gestures to the world resting outside your window. Now you're worried. True, you are hungry, and you haven't eaten a good meal for a while. But having Zihr ask you to go eat isn't exactly something you expected. <<if $cp>>Or he was just the peace offering. Checl probably sent him to invite you out, and you'll meet the other two in the lobby. Was it an attempt at a peace offering after the fight you two had? It would make sense why she sent Zihr instead of showing up herself.<</if>> Your silence conveys that confusion, and the longer you stand there, staring at him, the more he seems to curl into himself. "You know what, just forget it." He turns and begins to walk away. <a data-passage="7.24Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Nope," you chime in, signaling for $hound to stay behind, much to his vexation. "Shouldn't have come this far if you weren't going to commit." You walk ahead, making it to the elevator first. Once he's inside, you punch the floor for the lobby and turn to him. "Any ideas where?" "No. <<if $cp>>Checl gave me a few recommendations<<else>>Vittorio gave me some recommendations<</if>> but I haven't gone out to try them yet." <<if $cp>>So, Checl won't be joining you, nor did she put him up to this. That made it all the much weirder, but you keep such thoughts to yourself.<</if>> The walk through the lobby and out to the streets where you wait for a ride is quiet. Zihr seems to avoid everything about you, from conversation to even a drifting glance. It makes you curious why he would even ask for your company specifically if he would be so stiff about it all. Thankfully, food is the only important thing here, so you allow him to behave as he pleases. Departing the car, the two of you start down the street, glancing at all available options. "Are you in the mood for anything specific?" he asks after you've passed by a few. "I'm just hungry," you sigh, nodding to a multi-cuisine restaurant. You know a few exist in the larger cities, a gambit that usually pays off with a good location and a diverse staff. "Can't go wrong with multi restaurants." <a data-passage="7.24Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Multi what?" he asks, slowing his pace to a crawl. "A multi-cuisine restaurant," you answer. "They serve dishes from multiple cultures. It makes it easier for different species to dine as a group in one place without someone yelling about being unable to eat the food or finding it disgusting." He shifts uncomfortably. "I don't think I thought this through." "Not a fan of trying different things?" "Everything besides whatever that slop back in the Outlands would be counted as different. It's still a lot to take in." "What have you been eating this entire time?" "Mostly that sweet tasting gruel that has the fruit in it," he snorts, gazing away. "I learned what fruit is from that." Ah, oatmeal. [[Tease him.|7.24ZTease]] [[Coax him.|7.24ZCoax]]
"You can't handle all these new sensations, huh? Way too much for the humble raza from the Outlands?" "You forgot the word stupid and provincial." Any other time, you'd agree and tease him further, but there is venom in his words. It's not precisely directed towards you or something you did, or at least you don't believe it is. But it sounds like something that he has heard numerous times. "I'll admit," you start, "sometimes I tend to forget that other people have their own personal battles and war going on." He looks ready to question you, but you don't allow him and hastily nod toward the restaurant. "Come on. Experiment. I promise you'll find something you'll like. And no, I won't make fun of you." He looks doubtful, but the fact that he follows you inside says more than anything he could say would. <<include "7.24Zihr4">>
"Come on, I promise you'll like at least a quarter of their menu. If it helps, I'll even point out some choices that might remind you of the Outlands." "No." He draws back, a light blush tinting his cheeks. "No, as in, just tell me what you think is good. I'm um ... I'm up for experimenting." You nod. "Alright." <<include "7.24Zihr4">>
The two of you enter, stopping at the seating screen and choosing a table resting in the corner. "Do they have raza dishes?" You pull up the table's holo-screen, summoning the menu and looking for the answer. "Yes, a few. Want one?" "Maybe. I did some <<if hasVisited("5.25Zihr1")>>more research about the raza and that caste system you told me about. Those markings are for<<else>>research about the raza culture. I was wondering why practically every raza has markings. They represent<</if>> the caste an individual is part of and the family." He shakes his head wearily. "Of course, it's about family." He trails off, and you use that time to finally place your order before motioning that he needs to do the same. It takes a bit of nudging, but he finally orders something created by raza. "That's part of why I asked you to come with me," he says, continuing his previous train of thought. Here it is, the meat of this entire invitation. "I want your help in finding my family." "What makes you think I can help with that?" "You have contacts, I'm sure. If anyone can, then I know it's you. I know I can't do this on my own. Not to mention that I don't even know where to start. If you want to get paid for the information, then I will. Not now, obviously, but later I can. Will you help me or not?" "Why are you even asking me? Your relationship with Commander Sin can't be bad. They'd be more help than me." "Have you ever considered that maybe I trust you more than Commander Sin?" You snort, shaking your head as you readjust yourself in the seat so that you're now leaning forward on one arm. "I'm pretty sure you trust me as far as you can throw me. And no, shoving is not throwing." <a data-passage="7.24Zihr5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, that's one of your problems. You assume things about people regardless of whether they are true, and you base everything off of it." <<if $cp>>"Ah, someone's been talking to Checl," you mumble, rolling your eyes.<<else>>"So, you're saying you do trust me?"<</if>> "I don't trust you with certain things," he continues. "Like my life. I know you'd sacrifice me in a heartbeat for whatever those secret plans of yours are. <<if $ticketforone>>You proved that much outside of Taouron. <</if>>But for something like this. Yea, I trust you." You place your hand over your heart, snorting sarcastically. "That means the world to me. But you seem to forget that I may be in prison by this time tomorrow. Can't help you much from there." "You won't," he says confidently, his eyes going to the server who approaches with both of your drink orders. The way he says it causes you to pause and raise a brow. Did he talk to Commander Sin? Vittorio? What did he know that caused him to sound so confident. You stiffen in your seat. "Do you know something I don't?" "I know you won't be kicked off the team." "And you're so sure, huh?" "You want to know why you won't be kicked out?" "Enlighten me." "Because you're lucky." If it was possible for the vein in your forehead to burst then that is what would happen. You are beginning to have a collection of words that seem to trigger a quiet yet fierce storm of emotions. And 'lucky' is most surely one of the top three. [[“Don't speak about things you don't understand.”|7.24ZDontUnderstand]] [[“Oh, I wish.”|7.24ZIWish]] [[“Which part?”|7.24ZWhichPart]]
"Don't speak about things you don't understand. You call it luck when it's the opposite. I wish I had luck." "You think it's skill?" "No. I think it's the universe's shitty idea of a joke. Just because I'm alive doesn't mean I'm lucky. Would you say a man surviving off scraps is lucky? Or a beast that is starved and eating the bare minimum? Oh, but because they're still drawing breath, they're lucky, right? You should really learn the differences." He studies you, and in turn, you ignore him, focusing on the food and finishing it. <<include "7.24Zihr6">>
You chuckle, shaking your head as you partially relax in your seat. "You know, so many people assume that everything is luck. I really wish what they said was true. I wish that luck struck me. It's not luck. Never was, never will be." "It's skill?" "You're joking, but I'm serious when I say it's either skill or having multiple plans to fall back on." <<include "7.24Zihr6">>
"Tell me, which part of my existence comes across as lucky to you?" "You managed to get out of jail by joining the bounty hunters. Out of hundreds, you managed to get out of the Outlands in a year when most can't in a decade. Not to mention the numerous times you managed to get out of a shootout." "So did you. And how is it lucky to go from a safe albeit confined and solitary area to one filled with death? My connections helped us get out of the Outlands. And those shootouts, I survived because of my skill. You don't know anything about my life, so don't just hop straight to saying I'm lucky because you can't figure something else out." <<include "7.24Zihr6">>
"I didn't mean to offend." You hum. The issue is that they never do. Careless and foolish words are uttered through lips, ignorant lips. It never bothers them, but it always falls back on you. You're the one who shoulders them. "Either way," Zihr continues, and you pull yourself out of your thoughts. "You're far too skilled for them to just cast you away. A problem, yes. But still." "Aw," you coo, slipping on that mask you wear so often. That mask of indifference and disconnect. "Were you about to get really excited about a world without me there?<<if $leader is "Moran">> Makes sense. That leader title would be yours.<</if>>" "No," he tells you, shifting uncomfortably. "You look nervous." "//You// make me nervous." You pause your actions, your fork inches away from your mouth as your mind replays his words. There were many words you could see Zihr using to describe his thoughts and feelings towards you, but nervousness was just not one of them. At most, nervousness based on his inability to foresee what you would do but nothing more. "Nervous," you say after chewing. "And what exactly do I make you nervous about?" "Shut up," he grumbles, refusing to even look at you, "you know why." "As much as it may shock you, I actually don't. We're not close, Zihr. We both know that. And Checl <<if $cp>>wears her<<else>>always wore her<</if>> emotions on her sleeve, so it was never hard to figure out what she was thinking. You're not like that." "That insinuates that you ever cared about what I thought." <a data-passage="7.24Zihr7"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You shrug airily. "Depends on the time and day and, most importantly, the topic." He seems to study his now barren plate before his gaze finally rises to you. There is a question lying within those eyes. A question that he looks disinclined to ask, which only causes you to ponder what it is more. <<if $cp>>"I had an entire conversation about this with Checl, and I still don't know how to say it.<<else>>"I've gone through what I'd say again and again, and I still don't know how to say it.<</if>> Not in a way that'll actually get me an answer." "Now you're making me nervous. When have you ever failed at telling me what you feel?" "Feels like a lot, lately." You start to question him, but he stands up. "We should head back. Don't want them to think you're running or anything." He doesn't wait to hear if you agree or not. He is already up on his feet and walking towards the door with you following close behind him. The entire walk is quiet, Zihr's mood seeming to have plummeted much to your annoyance. When you do things to grab his ire, fine. But this wasn't even your fault. You replay everything you can, from when he first came to your room to when the two of you decided where to eat. And then all that led up to his nervous comment. Again and again, you run the conversation through your head, unsure where it took a turn. <a data-passage="7.24Zihr8"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Once you reach his room, he sends you a casual farewell before entering. "I wouldn't sacrifice you," you say abruptly, ignoring the feeling of every brain cell turning to stare at you, practically begging for you to shut up. This may not be where it all turned out, but it stuck out to you more than the other things discussed. "What?" "Earlier," you start, clearing your throat, playing with imaginary dust on the edge of your sleeve. "You said I'd sacrifice you. I wouldn't do that." He studies you, leaning against the doorframe. "Prove it." You snort, gazing over at him. "You want me to put you in a situation where it'll come into play?" "No. I want your words to match your actions." His voice trails off. "That's all I want to know, so ..." Exhaling heavily, he scratches his forehead. "$name, I think ..." His eyes bore into yours, losing his train of thought for a second time as he looks you over. "I think I'll see you tomorrow." "Goodbye," you hum, forcing yourself not to overthink. It would be wiser to just head to your room and let this go, especially since you can't read minds and will probably never understand what has gotten into Zihr. <a data-passage="7.24Zihr9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Zihr watches as $name goes, his brows furrowed in thought. //I think I like you, but I don't know what to do about that information. I think I care about you, but something tells me that such an idea is crazy.// And his all-time favorite thought. //What is any of this?// If it was anyone else, Zihr would have an easier time figuring everything out. He's never been in a relationship, but he knew enough about them to know what they looked like. Which only made this stupider. Only someone who truly hates themselves would decide to make $name the first person they thought to pursue. <<if $zihrRo >=50>>?He <<verb 'says'>> one thing but then does another. ?He <<verb 'flirts'>> but then will show total disdain a second later. Which should matter more? Words or actions? And the way ?he constantly will flirt or tease him ... it all makes everything confusing and ingenuine. Was he supposed to parse through it all and figure out the truth? It could easily just be $name being an asshole, playing with his emotions and nothing more.<<else>>Surprisingly, $name never came across as someone who would lie about ?his feelings. But, if ?he truly liked him, would ?he not just come out and say it? When has $name ever been afraid to speak ?his mind? And it isn't like Zihr is a master at deconstructing flirts and figuring out the true emotion resting beneath.<</if>> "Does it matter?" he asks, walking further into his room. How many times in the past few days <<verb 'has'>> ?he been so close that Zihr believed a kiss would stem from the interactions? And then, how many times did $name do or say something to remind him precisely who they were. In the beginning, this was fine. He didn't care; he understood it was just some annoying trait of ?his. But that's no longer the case. Some part of him was now entangled in this mess and seeking answers that he didn't quite know how to gain. Answers he didn't know whether he wanted to acquire or not. Releasing a low grumble, he checks his messages, making sure there was nothing needed for him to do. Grabbing his bag, he leaves to head to the training deck. Perhaps then, he can think and reflect. And then curse himself for saying none of the clever things he'll think up to $name. <a data-passage="7.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Opening the door, Ne0 takes a moment to take you in before glancing at $hound, awkwardly patting his head. "Greetings. Notification received. $name suspended." "//Temporarily// suspended," you correct, motioning for it to come inside. "Why did you come by?" It blinks. "Uncertain. Query." "Go ahead." It stands by the table while you grab a drink from the small kitchenette. "News of suspension. Foreseen. Predictable. Why?" "Why what?" "Why commit?" "Are you asking me why I did it when I knew I'd get in trouble for it?" "Affirmative." [[“Emotions make us crazy.”|7.24NCrazy]] [[“I'll tell you when I figure it out.”|7.24NFigureOut]] [[“It was an accident.”|7.24NAccident]] [[“What do you remember about your past?”|7.24NPast]]
"Emotions make us crazy. We do stupid things that never actually have much reason to them. That's just how we are." "Unpredictability. Key?" "I guess, but it's not like a lot of people go out of their way to be unpredictable. More like your thoughts get the better of you, and you act on them. For the sake of explanation, claiming it to all be unpredictability is the easiest way to describe it." "$name reasoning. Unpredictability." "Basically. There's a lot more to it, but I'm not sure how easy it would be to describe it to you." <<include "7.24Ne02">>
"The day I figure it out, I'll be sure to tell you." "Perplexed." "Stay that way, trust me, Ne0, it's better to not try and figure out why emotional beings do what they do. It won't ever make sense. It comes with the territory. It's far better for you to remain like you are, logical." "Chemicals? Hormones?" You snort. "Yea, let's go with that." <<include "7.24Ne02">>
"Well, the first thing you need to realize is that it wasn't on purpose. It was an accident." "Irrelevant." "What makes you think so?" "Loss of control. Equivalent chance of pacifism." "Are you saying that it doesn't matter because there's an equal chance of me not stabbing her?" "Affirmative." "Well, you're not wrong, but that's not exactly how this works either, especially when other factors play a role. Everything can have a mathematical value, but that's not how we judge actions." <<include "7.24Ne02">>
"What all do you remember about your past?" It cocks its head to the side. "Relevance?" "Just answer the question. You'll see soon." "Nothing." "Wait, really?" "Link broken. Everything blank. Awakened. Blank." It stares at the wall. "Lonely." "Well, there you go. Sometimes, us organics work off of those feelings. Our minds keep the negative thoughts and spurn them into what you saw earlier. I'm probably describing it horribly; bear with me; I've had a long day." <<include "7.24Ne02">>
"Individuality. Difficult. Worth it?" [[“Yea, it is.”|7.24NEmotional]] [[“Not at all.”|7.24NLogical]] [[“I can't answer that for you.”|7.24NNeutral]]
"Believe it or not, yea. I would even say that you're close to achieving it if you keep asking questions, developing your likes and dislikes, interests, and so on. It'll come naturally." "Odd." "It's odd for even some of us, and we organically feel it. Everyone has their own journey. Guess that's what others are for. To help you out." "Gracious." <<include "7.24Ne03">>
"Not at all," you sigh, rubbing your eye. "Sometimes I find myself jealous of you, Ne0. You don't have to worry about the details. You are, so you do and continue to do. You're strictly analytical to the point where there is no doubt, and better yet, you don't doubt or question yourself." "Simpler?" "Yes. Much." <<include "7.24Ne03">>
"What do //you// want, Ne0?" The draqe is quiet, blinking one then two times as it stares at the wall. "Direction." You chuckle, patting its shoulder before relaxing in your seat and closing your eyes. "Join the club. That's pretty much everyone." <<include "7.24Ne03">>
Silence descends between you, and you try to figure out how it got to this point. Not the events or your life in general, no, your thoughts on something far more in the now and simpler. Ne0. If this continues, then it will know more about you than <<if $cp>>Checl or Zihr<<else>>Zihr<</if>>. What makes it easier to talk to? The android part may be related to it, but you can't see that argument holding much weight. Its simple and logical conclusions and theories? Everything is grounded in fact and truth, even if it has a callow undertone. Maybe it was simply because you could. It asked questions that led to stories of your past and concerning those dealing with your feelings. But mostly, the two of you simply talked, and when answers were given, the conversations ended. There was no repetitive nagging or shouting. All of it was just beautifully uncomplicated. <a data-passage="7.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> That night, you find yourself unable to sleep. Tomorrow. All you can think of is tomorrow. In less than forty-eight hours, you may find yourself being delivered to your new home via prison bus. Or, you may return here to get another night of sleep. And it is these thoughts that keep you up and extirpate any hope of sleeping. There is only one thing you can think to do. The nightlife of Tebriri is rather depressing in the strangest ways. You've been to countless clubs and bars. So many, that trying to recount which is which is impossible, and even more insane is trying to figure out which is your favorite or the one you'll never return to. Instead, you've learned to divide them up based on the vibes that they give off. Most of the clubs found in the larger cities are crowded and suitable only for a distraction. The drinks are typically cheap or watered down to keep you coming back for a top-up, the music is generic, and those attending are more so. Smaller cities, the ones that wish they were more, were always overcompensating, but in the best ways. They believed that going over the top meant they could compete with more prominent nightclubs, and by doing such a thing, they stood out as having lovely drinks, good music, and just the right amount of space. The last kind of nightlife was the seedier ones. The ones where you had the main area and then the back area where the criminals hung out and did their deals. The clubs primarily maintained through gangs, mafia, or mercenary groups with far too many outstretched tendrils. Cheap but decent drinks, great music, and the company was so-so depending on the day and time and what big shot was in town. The Leviathan was a mix of the last two. Good drinks, decent music, and enough of a crowd that disappearing would be easy for anyone besides you. The $markings spotted terran was a spectacle, like always. A walking zoo exhibit to anyone with eyes. All you wanted was a break. [[And to drown every single feeling in alcohol.|7.28Alcohol]] [[And to dance away every thought.|7.28Dance]] <<if $int is not "none">>\[[And to kiss away the madness and emotions.|7.28Kiss]]<</if>>\
You wish you could say how far in you are, but the bartender has a nasty habit of cleaning up behind you. At most, you know that they've already tried to lecture you once and decided on leaving the bottle twice. Maybe that makes the bottle you're working on three … math isn't your strong suit presently. Enhanced abilities sadly give way to a stronger tolerance, which means you need to double up on the act of poisoning and really commit. To make it easier, you decided to play a game with yourself. Each time you think about how your plans may fall apart, how you are no longer who you once were, or about anything really, you take a gulp. And thankfully, for your liver, you were doing a lot of thinking that night. The smart thing would be to stay somewhat sober to get a ride back to the headquarters, but that thought meant you needed another gulp. It was the kind of night where bad decisions were in style, and sense was the unremitting and pestiferous nyaff. The funniest thing about this whole thing was that it was early. You weren't even halfway in your plan of finding answers and freeing yourself. You were in the fucking beginning stages! Another swig, this one much longer than the other. The alcohol still burned. It still feels like it conglomerates in your chest. Still sending happy little mixed signals to your head. //"Stop drinking me, but you know you won't,"// it seems to say. You have no energy or want to even try and behave like you are going to argue. <a data-passage="7.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
At this point, you don't even really hear the music as much as you feel it. The pounding of the bass and the electrifying feeling of the repetitive, hypnotic techno beats. You don't stop. You're not sure when you took your last break, and as far as you're concerned, you're not tired enough to take a seat. There are times when others join you, pushing up against you or even using your body to balance their own. Other times, you are given a wide berth, making it feel like you are the only one on the dance floor, and everyone else simply watches or tries to keep up. None have faces; they're all just silhouettes to be glossed over in your fervor. Some bodies depart, and others take their place, a constant cycle that means little to you. You were the sun and all of them merely astral bodies orbiting around. The care of who they are, what they are, or what they will do in the near future means nothing yet everything to you. There is a longing that pulls and repels you towards them. You near, but as soon as that figure seems to become something more sentient, you leave as if frightened by the idea. It becomes blurry, and you're hyper-aware of your own actions. Your heartbeat pounding in your chest as your feet continue to move, hips sway, and arms move to and fro on their own accord. There is sweat gathering on your forehead. The kind of sweat that, if allowed, would burn your eyes once it departed from your brow. Your breath is ragged like you've been running for hours with no chance of respite. An aching begins in your left frontal lobe, similar to the ones you've experienced when forced to stare at a strobing light for too long. Too much. It all becomes too much. At last, you take a seat, but the feeling of being someplace else never leaves. The bodies are a blur. The lights a myriad of colors that seem to grow distorted as they dance off of reflective surfaces. The music drones on, no longer possessing an ounce of creativeness. <a data-passage="7.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You press in harder, tasting the alcohol that sits upon their tongue and a slight metallic hint meaning that you probably were kissing <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> too hard. But <<if $int is "men">>he hasn't<<elseif $int is "women">>she hasn't<<else>>they haven't<</if>> complained and so you don't let up. Not to mention that part of you cares very little for their enjoyment of this. You need a distraction. A physical distraction that only a night of bad decisions will get you. You care very little for beguiling words, exotic features, curves and bulges in all the right places, or the sweetest set of eyes. No, none of that really enticed you tonight. The only checklist you have is that they are someone you'll give a second glance towards and that they're down for making all of the same dotish decisions you are. <<if $int is "men">>He pulls<<elseif $int is "women">>She pulls<<else>>They pull<</if>> you closer, nails digging into flesh as they seem just as intoxicated in the kiss as you. Bruised lips mind none of the rough play as tongues try to figure out whether they are dancing or wrestling. Teeth clashing and being ignored as they are only saved by a moment of respite so that a new angle can be had. You're aware of nothing and no one. Hardly even aware of the <<if $int is "men">>man<<elseif $int is "women">>woman<<else>>person<</if>> tangled up in your arms. "We should really get out of here," <<if $int is "men">>he says<<elseif $int is "women">>she says<<else>>they say<</if>>, moving back to get the words out but just because <<if $int is "men">>he<<elseif $int is "women">>she<<else>>they<</if>> decided to break off the kiss doesn't mean you've had enough. You latch on to <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> neck, biting the tender flesh before sucking at it then finally kissing it apologetically before moving onto the next area. "Come on," <<if $int is "men">>he whines<<elseif $int is "women">>she whines<<else>>they whine<</if>>, clutching on to your shirt and tugging it. "Otherwise, we'll be fucking right here in the hallway." <<if $s_att is "present">>\ [[“I wouldn't mind.”|7.28Kiss_NoMind]] [[“Thoughts?”|7.28Kiss_Thoughts]] <</if>>\ [[“Who said anything about sex?”|7.28Kiss_NoSex]]
"I wouldn't mind that," you snort, still busy with leaving your mark on <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> neck. "As much as that turns me on," <<if $int is "men">>he reassures<<elseif $int is "women">>she reassures<<else>>they reassure<</if>> breathlessly, "I still rather do it elsewhere." "Then lead me elsewhere," you sigh, and <<if $int is "men">>he grabs<<elseif $int is "women">>she grabs<<else>>they grab<</if>> your hand and pull you into the nearest bathroom. It would have probably been more sanitary to do it in the hallway. <<include "7.28Oral">>
"Okay, so then where to?" <<if $int is "men">>He grabs<<elseif $int is "women">>She grabs<<else>>They grab<</if>> your hand and pull you into the nearest bathroom. It would have probably been more sanitary to do it in the hallway. <<include "7.28Oral">>
Regardless, you lead <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> into the closest stall. Thankfully, it's clean enough and you have no intention of shifting over to to the side where the toilet is anyway. Grabbing hold of the <<if $int is "men">>man<<elseif $int is "women">>woman<<else>>person<</if>>, you bring them in for yet another rough and bruising kiss. <<if $int is "men">>He moans<<elseif $int is "women">>She moans<<else>>They moan<</if>> against you, touching you as you focus purely on <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> lips. "I want to taste you," <<if $int is "men">>he whispers<<elseif $int is "women">>she whispers<<else>>they whisper<</if>> against your cheek. <a data-passage="7.28Oral1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You say nothing, allowing <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> to drop to <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> knees as <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> eyes stay trained on yours. Perhaps you should be getting turned on, finding the prolonged eye contact sexy. Far more accurately, you just want <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> to get on with it. You didn't want to waste your entire night in this paltry-appearing bathroom stall, putting on an auditory show for anyone who wanders in. <<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ <<if $int is "men">>He works<<elseif $int is "women">>She works<<else>>They work<</if>> your pants down, freeing your member and licking <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> lips as <<if $int is "men">>he wastes<<elseif $int is "women">>she wastes<<else>>they waste<</if>> no time or words. Taking your tip between <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> parted lips, <<if $int is "men">>he coats<<elseif $int is "women">>she coats<<else>>they coat<</if>> you with <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> saliva before taking more and more of you. You remind yourself of the need to breathe as <<if $int is "men">>he runs his<<elseif $int is "women">>she runs her<<else>>they run their<</if>> tongue along the underside of your member. [[Images of Zihr appearing.|7.28OZihr]] [[Images of Checl appearing.|7.28OChecl]] [[And you relish the attention.|7.28RelishAttention]] <<else>>\ <<if $int is "men">>He works<<elseif $int is "women">>She works<<else>>They work<</if>> your pants down, and after freeing your leg, you drape it across <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> shoulder. Licking <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> lips, <<if $int is "men">>he wastes<<elseif $int is "women">>she wastes<<else>>they waste<</if>> no time or words and immediately places light kisses against your southern lips. You rest your back on the stall door, closing your eyes and combing your fingers through the stranger's hair. He inserts two fingers, working them in and out steadily, but you want more, and patience has never been your strong suit. Moving, <<if $int is "men">>he chuckles<<elseif $int is "women">>she chuckles<<else>>they chuckle<</if>> as <<if $int is "men">>he removes his<<elseif $int is "women">>she removes her<<else>>they remove their<</if>> fingers and licks between your folds, swirling <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> tongue and sucking at the spot. You arch your back, grinding against <<if $int is "men">>his face as he continues his<<elseif $int is "women">>her face as she continues her<<else>>their face as they continue their<</if>> work. Your clit is practically throbbing with arousal, wanting just as much attention as your core is receiving. <<if $int is "men">>His<<elseif $int is "women">>Her<<else>>Their<</if>> tongue goes from your hole to your clit, swirling <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> tongue against the sensitive bud before heading back. [[Images of Zihr appearing.|7.28OZihr]] [[Images of Checl appearing.|7.28OChecl]] [[And you relish the attention.|7.28RelishAttention]] <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $int is "men">>He works<<elseif $int is "women">>She works<<else>>They work<</if>> your pants down, and immediately begins to pleasure you. Inhaling unsteadily, you try calming your mind, focusing on nothing but what is happening right here. Pushing the past few days and all the issues that reside within to the side, if only for a few minutes more. It isn't exactly the best you ever had. But for a quick tryst in a bar bathroom, you will withold any kind of complaint. [[Images of Zihr appearing.|7.28OZihr]] [[Images of Checl appearing.|7.28OChecl]] [[And you relish the attention.|7.28RelishAttention]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ You thrust into <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> mouth, unable to keep the images running through your mind at bay. The stranger turns into Zihr, his lips wrapped around your cock as he desperately tries to take more of you into his mouth. There's a gleam in his eye that you instantly recognize. He has no idea what he's doing, but he wants to prove he can be the best. Wants to be able to say that he somehow one-upped you in something as vulgar as sucking dick. He'll choke on it before he ever admits defeat. You grip the back of his head and force him deeper, ramming yourself further into his mouth and caring little for the groans you hear. Perhaps you'll tell Zihr just how sexy you found him. How you've wanted to see him on his knees for some time. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Zihr with your seed all over his face causes you to shiver in need. <<else>>\ The stranger turns into Zihr, his face buried between your thighs as he desperately tries to pull a moan from your lips and will do anything to get it. There's a gleam in his eye that you instantly recognize. He has no idea what he's doing, but he wants to prove he can be the best. Wants to be able to say that he somehow one-upped you in something as vulgar as cunnilingus. You grip the back of his head and force him deeper, caring little for the groans you hear. Perhaps you'll tell Zihr just how sexy you found him. How you've wanted to see him on his knees for some time. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Zihr lapping up your juices causes you to shiver in need. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ It goes well until the stranger turns into Zihr, his face the one you see as he desperately tries to pull a moan from your lips and will do anything to get it. There's a gleam in his eye that you instantly recognize. He has no idea what he's doing, but he wants to prove he can be the best. Wants to be able to say that he somehow one-upped you in something. You grip the back of his head, urging him to continue, caring little for the groans you hear. Perhaps you'll tell Zihr just how sexy you found him. How you've wanted to see him on his knees for some time. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Zihr's face being covered by you causes you to shiver in need. <</if>>\ But when you glance down at him, you are reminded that all of that is simply a dream you conjured up. Zihr is back at headquarters, probably fast asleep. He's miles away and possesses no concern for you. A mix of anger and relief course through you. Anger at where he is compared to where you are. Rage that you're the one with this issue, not him. But relief that this is yet something else you can hide and toss to the side until it has rotten away from neglect. You can have all sorts of images flitting through your mind just as long as they stay there. <<include "7.28Oral2">>
<<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ You thrust into <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> mouth, unable to keep the images running through your mind at bay. The stranger turns into Checl, her lips wrapped around your cock as she eagerly takes more of you into her mouth. She's careful, causing you to wonder how many times she's done this. But her actions also possess finesse, making you want to run your fingers over her feathers and remind her just how good she is. She'd probably like it, too ... Just the thought of her purring (if zeaches can even make such a noise) causes you to grip the back of her head and force her deeper, ramming yourself further into her mouth as she adjusts herself. She does an excellent job, and just the picture of her on her knees, her mandibles wrapped around your member, is enough to earn her praise. You've wanted to see her in that position for some time. You've wanted to see a lot of things. And she would give you all you asked and so much more if you only let her. You growl, telling the more darker thoughts to fuck off as you feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Checl with your seed all over her face, grinning, causes you to shiver in need. <<else>>\ The stranger turns into Checl, her face buried between your thighs as she eagerly tries to pull a moan from your lips and will do anything to get it. She's careful, causing you to wonder how many times she's done this. But her actions also possess finesse. Her actions make you want to run your fingers over her feathers and remind her just how good she is. She'd probably like it, too ... Just the thought of her purring (if zeaches can even make such a noise) causes you to grip the back of her head and force her deeper as she adjusts herself. She does an excellent job, and just the picture of her on her knees, her tongue darting and the noises she makes, is enough to earn her praise. You've wanted to see her in that position for some time. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Checl lapping up your juices causes you to shiver in need. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ It goes well until the stranger turns into Checl, her face the one you see as she desperately tries to pull a moan from your lips and will do anything to get it. She's careful, causing you to wonder how many times she's done this. But her actions also possess finesse. Her actions make you want to run your fingers over her feathers and remind her just how good she is. She'd probably like it, too ... Just the thought of her purring (if zeaches can even make such a noise) causes you to grip the back of her head and force her deeper as she adjusts herself. She does an excellent job, and just the picture of her on her knees, her tongue darting and the noises she makes, is enough to earn her praise. You've wanted to see her in that position for some time. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just the thought of Checl cleaning you up causes you to shiver in need. <</if>>\ But when you glance down at her, you are reminded that all that is simply a dream you conjured up. Checl is back at headquarters, probably fast asleep. She's miles away, and though you may be on her mind, it is not for anything good. You've been throwing way too many matches at that bridge to ever claim burning it is not your intention. You'll add it to the very long—and ever-growing—list of things that you have managed to fuck up. <<include "7.28Oral2">>
<<if settings.showec and ($sex is "p" or $sex is "v")>>\ <<if $sex is "p">>\ You thrust into <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> mouth, letting go of all the pent-up energy swirling within. The stranger's lips wrap around your cock as <<if $int is "men">>he<<elseif $int is "women">>she<<else>>they<</if>> eagerly take more of you into <<if $int is "men">>his mouth. He's<<elseif $int is "women">>her mouth. She's<<else>>their mouth. They're<</if>> careful, causing you to wonder how many times <<if $int is "men">>he's<<elseif $int is "women">>she's<<else>>they've<</if>> done this. How many times have you pushed a complete stranger into a bathroom stall and had your way with them? But then your mind tries to redirect you to how you ended up here, laying out the path as if you'll easily lose yourself. <<else>>\ You open yourself to <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> mouth, letting go of all the pent-up energy swirling within. The stranger's tongue glides across your folds, eagerly tasting what you have to offer. <<if $int is "men">>He's<<elseif $int is "women">>She's<<else>>They're<</if>> careful, causing you to wonder how many times <<if $int is "men">>he's<<elseif $int is "women">>she's<<else>>they've<</if>> done this. How many times have you pushed a complete stranger into a bathroom stall and had your way with them? But then your mind tries to redirect you to how you ended up here, laying out the path as if you'll easily lose yourself. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You open yourself to <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> mouth, letting go of all the pent-up energy swirling within. The stranger's tongue eagerly tasting what you have to offer. <<if $int is "men">>He's<<elseif $int is "women">>She's<<else>>They're<</if>> careful, causing you to wonder how many times <<if $int is "men">>he's<<elseif $int is "women">>she's<<else>>they've<</if>> done this. How many times have you pushed a complete stranger into a bathroom stall and had your way with them? But then your mind tries to redirect you to how you ended up here, laying out the path as if you'll easily lose yourself. <</if>>\ Gritting your teeth, you grip the back of <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> head and force <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> deeper, caring very little for <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> groans. But this is but a mere distraction amongst everything else. You will finish here and return to the headquarters to face your sentencing. How many times will you find yourself in this exact spot? Standing before another as they judge you without truly knowing anything about you. The pleasure should block it out. Your mind should be blank. You can feel your orgasm hitting you, and just as your mind laughs at your feeble attempts. You grunt in indignation. <<include "7.28Oral2">>
"Did I do something wrong?" the stranger asks, using the back of <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> hand to wipe your remaining load off the side of <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> face. It isn't <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> fault, yet a surge of hot rage causes you to move away, inevitably pushing <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> in the process. <<if $int is "men">>He protests<<elseif $int is "women">>she protests<<else>>they protest<</if>>, but you have since blocked <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> entire presence from your mind. You aggressively pull up your pants and go, once again bathing yourself in the cacophony of the club. "The messes you manage to get yourself into," you whisper as you find a new spot to occupy. Your eyes are starting to drop, and yet, you still find your thoughts focused on <<if hasVisited("7.28OZihr")>>that fucking raza<<elseif hasVisited("7.28OChecl")>>that fucking zeach<<else>>all the things going wrong.<</if>> You came out here to get away and shift your attention to something that demands it, but you hardly succeeded. <a data-passage="7.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $zihrRoPo >=3>>\ "Whoa," you start, pulling back and ending your assault against their neck. At the moment, the lights are flashing, giving you a view of the <<if $int is "men">>man<<elseif $int is "women">>woman<<else>>person<</if>> trapped between your arms. You knew it when first approaching <<if $int is "men">>him<<else>>them<</if>> that <<if $int is "men">>he was<<else>>they were<</if>> just some ordinary raza that you'll never see again. So then, what right … what gall did your mind have for being disappointed that the figure in front of you was not Zihr? Not the right gradient, not the right body type or height, <<if $int is "men">>and … no, none of this is right. Least of all, your thoughts.<<else>>and not even the right gender. None of it fits, least of all, your thoughts.<</if>> <<elseif $checlRoPo >=3>>\ "Whoa," you start, pulling back and ending your assault against their neck. At the moment, the lights are flashing, giving you a view of the woman trapped between your arms. You knew it when first approaching <<if $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> that <<if $int is "women">>she was<<else>>they were<</if>> just some ordinary zeach that you'll never see again. So then what right … what gall did your mind have for being disappointed that the figure in front of you was not Checl? Not the right colors, not the right feather lengths, not the right body type or height, <<if $int is "women">>and … no, none of this is right. Least of all, your thoughts.<<else>>and not even the right gender. None of it fit, least of all, your thoughts.<</if>> <<elseif $sinRoPo >=3>>\ "Whoa," you start, pulling back and ending your assault against their neck. At the moment, the lights are flashing, giving you a view of the <<if $int is "men">>man<<elseif $int is "women">>woman<<else>>person<</if>> trapped between your arms. You knew when first approaching them that they were just some ordinary raza that you'll never see again. So then what right … what gall did your mind have for being disappointed that the figure in front of you was not Sin? It wasn't even the right species. Everything about it is wrong, least of all your thoughts. <<else>>\ "Whoa," you start, pulling back and ending your assault against their neck. At the moment, the lights are flashing, giving you a view of the <<if $int is "men">>man<<elseif $int is "women">>woman<<else>>person<</if>> trapped between your arms. An ordinary raza. Surely not one you'll find yourself doing a double take for. You're not even sure you can point this one out amongst three others. Ordinary. Bland. Mundane. <</if>>\ "I just wanted a distraction," you tell <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>>, "I wasn't looking to bed you down." The strobing lights highlight the shock on <<if $int is "men">>his<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>their<</if>> face and though you keep such thoughts to yourself, you can't help but notice that it makes <<if $int is "men">>him<<elseif $int is "women">>her<<else>>them<</if>> look even uglier. The flaws of finding someone and pairing them with a dark corner, you suppose. "Fuck you, I'm not here for your amusement." <<if $int is "men">>He shoulder checks you as he walks away<<elseif $int is "women">>She pushes you away as she goes<<else>>They shove you out of their way as they leave<</if>> and you do little in the department of retribution. Your mind still swarms around the thought you had from earlier. So many things are becoming twisted and mangled from their original purpose, and you were allowing it. First Tsering, then that mysterious figure, now this. You were losing the little control you once possessed. Every statement made that once highlighted the path you were taking now grew dull and crooked. No friends and certainly no ridiculous crushes. If you can even call it that. Taking a seat, you cradle your head and rub at aching temples. "The messes you manage to get yourself into," you whisper. Your eyes are starting to drop, and yet, you still find your thoughts focused on <<if $zihrRoPo >=3>>that fucking raza<<elseif $checlRoPo >=3>>that fucking zeach<<elseif $sinRoPo >=3>>that fucking shaph<<else>>all the things going wrong.<</if>> You came out here to get away and shift your attention to something that demands it, but you hardly succeeded. It lasted for a minute or so, you'll admit. But you can hardly be faulted for how another acts. <a data-passage="7.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Gazing around, you eye all those dancing and laughing with companions. The groups that had come out together hoping to waste the night away either by filling it with debauchery or something far more tame. In the end, all of it brings one word to mind: loneliness. Not lonely in the sense where you would stand and head out into the fray, smiling at passersby while dancing with strangers. Nor do you think this loneliness is exactly the kind to make you want to bring up your terminal and see what your teammates are up to. This feels like you did it to yourself. You made a box, hid it from the world, and placed yourself inside, and only then did you realize just how cramped and lonely it was. Would the others even miss you if you get kicked out and sent back to jail? Would they care to even raise their voices to try and aid you? How likely is it that you are nothing but a single moment in their life, and now that you are gone, it is better for concentration? A long time ago, you accepted that everyone leaves. No matter what they say or even what they do, they will leave you, and that will be it. You will be the one stumbling desultorily around, attempting to pick up answers and understand clues you know have long since passed or never existed. Then, another lesson landed in your lap. One taught far harsher but was no less heartbreaking than the other: trust no one. Those two combined lessons should see you as a lone wolf, but yet still you crave. Still, you reach out with starving fingertips, hoping to dip them in a pool of gold and understanding, only to possess the audacity of being shocked when they are slicked in tar and death. The simple truth is that you don't know what you want but know what you need. [[One of these days you'll accept that it's just you.|7.30]] [[You just … you just wish …|7.30]] [[You're alone. There's nothing more to it.|7.30]]
You haven't had your fill. Your hunger languishes for more, for something that will never fill it, but it can nevertheless be gluttonously claimed. <<if hasVisited("7.28Alcohol")>>\ "Bartender," you shout over the music, catching the alien's attention as a knowing look settles on their face. The following words aren't even out of your mouth before they reach for a new bottle. "Another." <<elseif hasVisited("7.28Dance")>>\ The dance floor calls out to you, and who would you be to ignore it? Tomorrow will bring what it brings, whether that finds you sleeping in a bed you have only just started to get used to or with your head propped against a prison bus window. For now. Today. You plan to dance until your feet bleed. <<else>>\ Your eyes scan the crowd, knowing you'll find what you seek, just not when and in what form. The chase ends before it even begins, and you spot a figure returning your smile. They make the first move, probably fearing that catching your eye is a coincidence. They saunter up to you and take the seat opposing yours. "Well, don't you look lonely?" <</if>>\ <a data-passage="Chapter Eight"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_8.png" alt="Chapter Eight" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $huntreminder to false>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2026_5.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. The Lyrae system sees more rogue stars than any other system, many believe that Livius may have been a rogue at one point when the larger Avrora’s orbit trapped it."> <span class ="flashback">The sound of the dinner guests ebulliently laughing ultimately stops your wandering mind from continuing. The world you left behind vanishes as your new life comes more into focus, each and every paradoxical aspect of it—beautiful yet disturbing and monstrous, wonderful and fascinating yet mundane and deplorable. Each day, you find yourself more and more confused about how you should feel about it all, and thus far, there is no answer in sight. You and four others stand against a far wall, carrying heavy crystalline trays. Your arms beg for a break, but even the slightest shift seems to draw Overseer Naitene's antagonizing gaze. A curt snap and a threatening glare are all it takes to remind any of you what will happen if you cause a scene or anger the Baroness. Dozens of jobs, and they choose to give you this one. When you aren't playing a good little servant, you are constantly cleaning. What, you have not entirely understood. You continue to learn about your captors, their traits and mannerisms, culture, and superstitions. One such trait is that they are immaculate. Not that they try; they just naturally are. The others have come up with theories, some believing the trarkrans are part pigs to theories stating that the crystal material in which most of their furniture is made hosts some sort of bacteria that eats up what terrans regard as filth. All of it sounds like nonsense, but so did aliens a couple of years ago. You have long since learned not to believe anything to be asinine. It only made your so-called servant job that much more baffling. You had always believed that servants were there to clean and attend, but your job is far closer to that of a court jester. You are meant to be entertaining, a spectacle for the trarkrans to gesture at, and a point of conjecture. They have yet to poke and prod at you, but some of the others have not been so lucky. You are to stand completely still as they pull at your skin and yank on your hair. Behaving as nothing more than an animate doll. You are not sure what they did before having terrans to gawk and chasten, and part of you hopes not to find out. All you have learned from your so-called masters has been pure inference or observed facts. You cannot read whatever language they speak, and the translator function on your abacus does not allow you to learn theirs.</span> <a data-passage="6FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"This is what I mean," one of the guests laughs as they rise, strutting over to your line. You stiffen as it seems they are making a beeline for you, all eyes following them the best they can without being too noticeable. But they instead stop at the woman standing right beside you.</span> [[Her name is Defne.|6FBHeart][$heart +=3]] [[Her name eludes you.|6FBMind][$mind +=3]] [[You didn't know her.|6FBGut][$gut +=3]]
<span class ="flashback">You remember learning her name a few weeks back and noting how beautiful it sounded, along with her accent. Turkish, you believe, but you are not sure if she had ever specified or if you had simply attempted to match her accent to a country. She was sweet, reminding you much of Camila in her innocence and curiosity regarding your new surroundings. She is passionate about geology, always bringing in rocks and crystal fragments and attempting to figure out the differences and compare them to what she knew back on Genesis. You are unsure what is about to happen to her, but you know she does not deserve it. You know she will stand there just like the rest of you and bear it, for she is not a person at the moment but a lifelike doll. A thought comes to mind as the trarkran narrows the distance: Is Defne religious? Will she pray to whatever deity she believes watches over her, hoping that she holds their favor? You almost forget that you are not allowed to frown.</span> <a data-passage="6FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">At that exact moment, her name eludes you, though you are quite sure you have heard her say it multiple times before. It is not that you do not care to learn names, but you do your best to only remember the names of those who have been around for a while. It feels foolish to do otherwise. Since your time here, you have seen slaves resold, some beaten long after they've expired, and some simply die due to the rigors of this world. You had always believed that your adaptive terran abilities had a limit. Many have seen that limit along with the consequences. The one boy who had burned to death, alive and screaming as the fury of the sun took him. Their sun had cooked him, and you all could do nothing but watch, the fumes singeing your nose hairs. You care for your fellow terrans, your fellow Genisers. But your heart can only take so much, and you have found it wise to limit your conversations.</span> <a data-passage="6FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Did you recognize her? Yes. Did you know her? No. Or at least as much as you know anyone else. It had seemed only wise to stay to yourself, letting none but your brother and sister into your heart. Since your time here, you have seen slaves resold, some beaten long after they've expired, and some simply die due to the rigors of this world. You had always believed that your adaptive terran abilities had a limit. Many have seen that limit along with the consequences. The one boy who had burned to death, alive and screaming as the fury of the sun took him. Their sun had cooked him, and you all could do nothing but watch, the fumes singeing your nose hairs. That is all to say that you found less and less reason to know your fellow captives. Their names mean nothing. You are all numbers or whatever the Baroness wishes to call you that day. And moments like this make you happy to be ignorant of such matters.</span> <a data-passage="6FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">The guest stands at her side, using their lu̥skolki̥ to poke at her face and then her arms. The purpose is lost to you. You only know that he is intentionally causing her to bleed, proving a point that you had not been privy to. Being the closest to her, you are only allowed what your peripheral view catches. If you turn your head and show even the slightest emotion to the happenings unfolding, you will receive a far harsher punishment. If she is not killed outright, your mind decides to chime in. "You are making a mess," Baroness Devina mentions, "does your countless ramblings have a point, or have you had a drop too much drink?" The guest shies away at her words, slinking back to the table and retaking his seat. Baroness Devina seems far more aggravated with the situation and waves her fingers, two guards stepping forward. "Go clean her up. I shall present her to Larikiias as a gift later. A thank you for failing to attend yet another one of my gatherings," the Baroness says with a twisted smirk. Another cultural aspect you have learned while here is that gifts are given more as polite comeuppance. They are an insult wrapped in a pretty bow and delivered with a wicked smile. <<if hasVisited("6FBHeart")>>Defne<<else>>The woman<</if>> is escorted away, her sobs swallowed by the laughter of those returning to their dinner party. Another servant with a crystalline tray takes up her spot, frozen and looking straight ahead, mirroring the rest of you. This one is a stranger whose face you cannot place. <<if hasVisited("6FBHeart")>>You wonder if you'll learn their name as well.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="6.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_6.png"> Yet again, the irritating electric ding from overhead captures your attention. You'll have to do the math later; you're far too busy trying to escape the hunters who have yet to abandon their chase. [[A move that is pissing you off with every step.|6.00NotYourDecision]] [[A move that you suggested.|6.00YourDecision]]
It angered you five minutes ago, and no amount of physical activity has managed to alter that emotion. When was the last time you've run away from a fight? An easy one at that. There's being strategic and leading your pursuers into a trap or putting space between the two of you to give you a better position, and then there is this. Just mindless surrender and evading to stay in some pointless game that has no real - "Turn here!" you hear Zihr shout, watching your team all head to the left and down the corridor. You follow them, raising a brow at the dead end you now face. "Clever," you snort, rolling your eyes as you lean against the wall and close your eyes to focus. There's a mild commotion further down, possibly due to your pursuers being confused or running into another team. At the very least, it gives you a moment to think. <<include "6.01">>
It was either stay in the open and be easy targets or make a run for it. The smartest move, at least to you, was to run. You're not exactly happy about this scrimmage field. High walls in the form of a maze. Pointless. You won't be chasing them through narrow maze-like alleys when you're out in the field, so why are you doing it now? "Turn there!" you shout, coming back to the now. You watch as your team all heed your directions and turn left, only to be met with a dead end. "Well, isn't this great?" Zihr remarks, taking a knee and looking completely exasperated. You pay him a second's worth of attention as you lean on the wall, closing your eyes to focus. There's a mild commotion further down, which can either be due to your pursuers being confused or running into another team. At the very least, it gives you a moment to think. <<include "6.01">>
<<if $cp>>\ "I heard a ding," Checl reminds, "How many teams are left?" "Three, including us," Zihr answers. "But we don't know if that's a team of three or four or even five." "Pursuing team. Three," Ne0 tells you all. There are two teams, one consisting of three and the other unknown. You had taken a nice long look at all the teams before the scrimmage began, but that matters little when you're not sure which teams are out and which are in. <<else>>\ "There's only three teams left," Zihr informs the two of you. "Includes us," Ne0 adds, "Pursuing team. Three." Two teams, one consisting of three and the other being unknown. You had taken a nice long look at all the teams before the scrimmage began, but that matters little when you're not sure which teams are out and which are in. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Zihr grumbles as he gets to his feet. "We're hiding when we should be out there, hunting down the last two teams." "That's a surefire way to lose," you point out. "It'll give us some points, though." "Points?" you question, brow raised in confusion. "The purpose is to be the last team standing." "But -" You have to stop yourself from snorting. It doesn't matter how many enemies you pick off when you're in the field. What matters is that you eliminate or secure the target and end the day alive. You have a feeling that the Commanders brought up the point system specifically for those like Zihr. Those who believed winning to be greater than just getting the job done. Who saw this more as a game and less like a simulation. If it was up to you, you'd have found someplace to bunker down and simply waited until the numbers thinned down and forced you to come out of hiding. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "We're going out there," Zihr announces, giving you a look. He wants you to argue, probably to remind you who's in charge of this shit show. "Plan?" Ne0 inquires. Zihr begins to describe it, and though you listen, your mind is far more focused on picking it apart. He has potential. An untrained eye for strategy that reminds you of some over-eager soldier who can either become something great or flounder until they realize that alcohol is a far greater comfort than constant humiliation. His plan //may// secure your team additional points. It even retains the likelihood of winning the scrimmage. But both of those have something in common — chance. And chance isn't a word you like, especially when there is certainty in other paths. "Everyone understands?" Zihr asks, and <<if $cp>>the two others nod.<<else>>Ne0 nods.<</if>> You frown when Zihr's eyes meet yours. [[“Whatever you say, my captain. My king.”|6.02LordOfTheAnnoying]] [[“Yea, yea. Let's get on with it.”|6.02YeaYea]] [[Nod.|6.02Nod]] [[Stare right back.|6.02StaringContest]] <<elseif $leader is "Moran" and $cp>>\ "We should go out there," Zihr states, giving you a look. "I agree with Zihr," Checl chimes in, doing her best to look at everyone but you. Wise, as she'll catch the annoyed glare you're saving just for her. [[“So this is a democracy now?”|6.02ForDemocracy]] [[“You know strategy now, Checl?”|6.02CheclStrategic]] [[“I didn't ask.”|6.02DidntAsk]] [[“I really think we should wait.”|6.02ThinkWeShouldWait]] [[Say nothing.|6.02.1]] <<else>>\ "We should go out there," Zihr states, giving you a look. [[“I didn't ask.”|6.02DidntAsk]] [[“I really think we should wait.”|6.02ThinkWeShouldWait]] [[Say nothing.|6.02.1]] <</if>>\
"Of course. Whatever you say, my captain. My king." Zihr just groans. A sound that has never failed to bring a smirk to your face. Saying nothing more, he leads you out of the corridor and back the way you came. <<include "6.03">>
"Yea, yea, whatever. Can we get on with this, or are we going to camp out in this dead end until the end of the scrimmage?" Zihr rolls his eyes, mumbling something that you don't care to hear. <<include "6.03">>
You simply nod, wishing to just finish this entire thing. <<include "6.03">>
You say nothing, staring at Zihr, who waits patiently for you to agree. It takes him longer than usual to realize that you're not about to give it, and only then does he huff and turn to leave. It's about time. <<include "6.03">>
"I didn't realize this group became a democracy." "A what?" Zihr asks in disgust. You have no time to explain, nor do you care to, so you wave his question away. <<include "6.02.1">>
"Oh, you know strategy now, Checl? Please inform me when this happened?" "You don't have to be an ass," she grumbles. "Then keep your thoughts to yourself." Your attention moves back to Zihr. <<include "6.02.1">>
"I didn't ask you for your thoughts." <<if $cp>>"Maybe that's part of the problem," she suggests, and you fight to keep your eye from twitching.<<else>>"But I gave them. So let's go. You can thank me later." There is an edge of hope in his words but you remain where you are.<</if>> <<include "6.02.1">>
"I get it. You want action, and you want it now. But I really think we should wait." "Is that in your professional opinion?" Zihr questions, rolling his eyes. "Yes, actually." <<include "6.02.1">>
All of you are silent for a moment, and it seems that no one is willing to change their previous opinion and/or declaration. "Plan?" Ne0 inquires. If the droid had been even the tiniest bit more expressive, you would've believed it had asked the question with a hint of annoyance. <<if $cp>>"We go with the plan that we all voted for," Zihr tells it, gazing from Checl to you. Checl nods, and without waiting to see if you will be a team player, they all walk back into the corridor.<<else>>"Since we obviously can't agree, we go with the plan we think is best," Zihr tells it, already heading out to do exactly that.<</if>> Ne0 glances at you; the only one who seems to remember you are the leader. You motion after <<if $cp>>the others<<else>>Zihr<</if>>. <a data-passage="6.03"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You follow after, disliking just how silent everything currently is. Two other teams, and they can be anywhere. To make matters worse, they may be waiting for their prey to come to them. This maze is no one's turf, but the longer you walk, the more you begin to believe that your team is the intruder. All of it feels wrong and absurdly idiotic. There's a lack of sound around you, putting you further on edge the deeper you go. You glance at your group, not understanding how they can behave so calmly. Several solutions flit through your mind, causing your steps to slow. You refuse to lose such a simple exercise because your team leader is incompetent. If this was an actual hunt, you wouldn't be willing to put your life on the line over absurd orders, so why behave differently here? <<if $markings is "blue">>\ Utilizing your abilities and going invisible may aid you, but then you recall all those watching you. The last thing you want to do is open the door for the numerous questions that will arise. <<if $cp>>Zihr and Checl don't<<else>>Zihr doesn't<</if>> even know that you possess such an ability. And you would much rather keep it that way. And that doesn't even begin to describe what you will face when Sin confronts you. <</if>>\ The group turns and heads into a far more open area where a few pillars and half-walls lay scattered around. Nets stretch from one pillar to another, behaving as both an obstacle and faux cover. Perhaps to replicate that of a window, something that—upon first inspection—will provide cover but one shot will find that protection no more. There are also rope ladders attached to the pillars, allowing an individual to traverse higher ground. Buildings then. This is supposed to replicate a street, and you'll at least give them points for creativity. Similar to that of a street, this area has become an interim graveyard with the bodies of the other hunters sprawled about. There aren't enough to indicate that every hunter has met their demise here, but enough for you to know that this place saw too much activity. <a data-passage="6.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>"If this wasn't a game, this would be ... upsetting," Checl mumbles, keeping close to Zihr as they go.<<else>>"I don't know whether to be happy or upset that we missed whatever happened here," Zihr points out, still, of course, thinking of nothing but points.<</if>> You hear <<if $cp>>her<<else>>him<</if>> but have set your focus elsewhere, watching and waiting. Finally, your scrutiny is rewarded as you catch the slightest shift of movement at the opening to your left. From there, your eyes swoop from one point of interest to another. An ambush. A clever one too, you surmise the more you take in the battleground. One of the last remaining teams has taken up prone positions at the other openings, acting as if they have already been taken out of the competition. If it hadn't been for the movement, you wonder if you would have caught it in time, as the only thing giving them away is the mass amount of bodies lying in the middle. Such a build-up can only be catalyzed by an ambush. Looking around now, it is almost laughable how obvious the setup is. Their positioning is too artificial, from how they are angled to how close their weapons rest to their bodies. They have all four angles covered and can take out anyone who believes they should take the high ground. Smart. Very smart. You pause at a blind spot and think through the situation. One other team is wandering around, and the team here believes they have not yet been detected. You have the element of surprise. [[Use the team as bait.|6.04Bait][$scrimmagebait to true]] [[Fire your gun.|6.04FireGun]]
<<if $ticketforone>>Your mind immediately goes back to the day you left Checl and Zihr standing in front of the gates to Taouron. At least <<if $cp>>neither of them will<<else>>Zihr won't<</if>> be surprised by your actions.<<else>>You had never done something like this before, though you would like to say that no one should be surprised.<</if>> As the team continues, you stay where you are, waiting for them to get the full attention of your opponents before you slink back out the way you came. Hopefully, they hadn't counted how many people had entered<<if $cp>>, or at the very least, suspected that three people were a typical group<</if>>. Staying here will prove foolish if the last remaining team is drawn to this opening, but there is little else you can do. Your choices are to either stay here and pick off whoever is left and set up your ambush afterward or head back to the dead end and wait until one team or individual is left standing, and you pick them off. You'd choose the latter if this was real, but this was a game. A game that you wish to see end sooner rather than later. A series of shots echo across the once silent maze, followed by three dings<<if $cp is false>>, causing you to wonder if Ne0 or Zihr actually managed to shoot someone<</if>>. You can't hazard a glance to check, not yet, at least. "So that's one more team," an unknown voice asks, "there's only one left, right?" <<if $cp is false>>\ "I believe so. Can't believe they managed to take out Zok, though." "One body won't -" They aren't able to continue their conversation due to an electric shot hitting their forms and rendering them just as still as those around them. You walk out, holstering your weapon, as you glimpse at the two who had just been so comfortable. Smart, yet so stupid. Now, you need to prepare for the last team. They won't just happen across this place. They'll come prepared to eliminate anyone else standing between them and a secure win. <<else>>\ "Yea. Should we go and find them, or do you think they'll come to us?" "It's smarter to just stay -" They aren't able to continue their conversation due to an electric shot hitting their forms and rendering two of them just as still as those around them. The third manages to duck out of the way in time, leaping over a half-wall to take cover as you do the same. Oh, how you had hoped you would be fast enough to shoot all three, but the third hadn't bunched in close like their two teammates. "Almost had us," the last member calls out, "emphasis on almost." You need to end this now. The last thing you want is to be exposed or distracted if and when the last remaining team comes by. They won't just happen across this place. They'll come prepared to eliminate anyone standing between them and a secure win. You take a senseless shot from your current position, giving away your position before slinking to another pillar and then another one. Every second finds you closer to your goal until they are right there, attempting to look over the half-wall at where you may be. You don't have time to waste. You fire a shot and down them before standing and deciding the best course for the last team. <</if>>\ You're limited on choices. An ambush may or may not be helpful, as it all depends on their numbers and where you place yourself. They may enter all at once, but if they are wise, they'll decide to split up. [[Take them out the old fashioned way.|6.04OldFashionedWay]] <<if $agility >=5>>[[Climb the maze walls.|6.04ClimbMazeWall]]<</if>>\
You hadn't thought about doing it until now, perhaps because there was hardly any reason to until now. Feeling the wall's material, you decide you'll be able to run up the side. The Dread's architecture made for superb parkour training, especially when walls were usually more stable than the floors. Taking a significant number of steps back, you sprint towards the wall and run up it, timing your jump ideally to grab the top and hoist yourself up. From here, the maze looks like one convoluted mess, causing you to wonder how many of you ever made your way to the middle, where the clearing rests. Jumping from one wall to the next, you decide which angle you wish to work with, and though it's not perfect, it at least seems suitable. Now, for the boring part: waiting. Lying down, you pay close attention to your surroundings, hoping to guess which way they're coming from before they even make their way to the center. Only a handful of minutes tick by before they show themselves. Three in all, they huddle close together as they slowly enter the central area like your team did. <a data-passage="6.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You want to get this over with, and the fastest way to do that is to simply shoot them when they show up. Of course, you should be cautious. It's not like you're going up against a group of civvies. You have no idea what their past careers were or current hobbies. Despite your thoughts on how the Nightwalkers chose their recruits, they were selected and, therefore, knew some manner of combat. Not to mention that you doubt they would throw every new team here for the privilege of receiving the first hunt. Those teams holding no chance would not be present. So, you decide to hide behind one of the pillars that rests closer to the center. It's not the best position, but it makes it easier to spot which opening they come in from and where to go from there. Only a handful of minutes tick by before they show themselves. Three in all, they huddle close together as they slowly enter the central area like your team did. <a data-passage="6.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Blindsiding this group is less important to you than getting the second team to finally come forward, and there aren't many ways to do that. "Fuck this," you grumble, taking out your gun and popping two shots into the air. Any further distraction needed will soon commence. "What are you doing?!" Zihr growls, jerking around to face you. "You may want to take cover," you tell them, heading back out to patrol the area leading toward the openings. You hear nothing else from your team as those waiting in ambush immediately move in to fight, believing their quarry is about to get away. It takes a few minutes before a few dings go off, and you can't help but wonder if they belong to your team members or the opposing ones. It doesn't matter. You attempt to stay as close as possible to the area, keeping your ears out for the last remaining team. What gives the incoming team away is their whispers. The firing from the center has calmed, causing you to grow curious about what is happening, seeing that only one ding has ever sounded. This—you believe anyway—has caused the team to approach methodically, sticking on the sidelines until they have more confidence regarding their choices. Any other time, you would agree, but only if you knew that your position had not yet been compromised. They did not, allowing you to sneak up on them with incredible ease. <a data-passage="6.05"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You take a moment to watch them, observing everything from how they hold their weapons to their so-called formation. For a moment, you had believed you were back with the Dinami. Surrounded by your confreres … or no. That word has always been too civil to use for people who wouldn't even blink after plunging their knife straight through your spine and twisting it. But the sentiment remains. For a minute, you believed these hunters were the same caliber as the Dinami, with the same training knowledge and cutthroat attitudes. But scrutinizing them now, you are reminded that you are in the Nightwalkers headquarters, miles away from anything Dinami-related. In fact, you are the outlier here. You are the ruthless one who did not blink <<if hasVisited("6.04FireGun")>>as you walked away, leaving ?his teammates to fight their way out of a mess.<<else>>when allowing ?his_ teammates to be used as bait.<</if>> [[You do what you must.|6.05Gut][$gut +=5]] [[A small pit opens.|6.05Heart][$heart +=5]] [[It's another lesson.|6.05Mind][$mind +=5]]
You do what you have to do and find no reason to make up an excuse or justify it. What will it lead to or help with? Who would even care? Most people care as far as it concerns them. If whatever excuse you give them doesn't make them personally feel better, then nothing will. And that is that. <<include "6.06">>
A small pit in your chest feels like it opens, acting as a black hole as it sucks its surroundings nearer. You aren't a monster; you understand that your actions have consequences and that you may even go too far sometimes. But you will not apologize for them, nor promise never to commit them again. You're not that delusional. <<include "6.06">>
In the end, it's just another lesson that you have the unfortunate position of having to teach. You learned it the hard way, and you are simply teaching it through an easier one. <<include "6.06">>
Blinking, you are brought back to the now and what it consists of, dealing with three people and ending this sorry excuse of an exercise. You'd sooner draw lots to determine who'd acquire the first hunt. They aren't Dinami, they are Nightwalkers. You will take them out as such. Simple. Clean. Quick. Pulling yourself together, <<if hasVisited("6.04Bait")>>you aim and take the three necessary shots to end the game. You're already making your way down to the ground when the three dings ring and you head back to the main area,<<else>>you figure out who will be your first target and practice the movement before committing to it. Each body hits the ground, followed by three dings you hardly hear as you're<</if>> still trying to push your revelations from your mind. <<if hasVisited("6.04Bait")>>\ An intercom abruptly comes to life with a short ding as soon as you make it back to the middle. At that moment, the still bodies around you regain their ability to move and, with groggy movements, get to their feet and regroup with their respective teams. A few pass you glares, and others even go as far as to shove past you. Each receives nothing more than an internal sigh. <a data-passage="6.06.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "You always do this," Zihr shouts before you can even honestly say you made it back into the main area. Everyone else remains down, still just as lifeless as before. "You're always doing whatever you want without any consideration for your teammates." [[“I'm tempted to shoot you myself.”|6.06TemptedToShootYou]] [[“You're free to do as you wish.”|6.06FreeToDoAsYouWish]] [[“I told you my plan!”|6.06ToldMyPlan]] [[“I'll take that into consideration.”|6.06TakeIntoConsideration]] <</if>>\
"Oh," you chuckle, "please don't tempt me. I so badly want to shoot you myself." "Try it," he growls, increasing your desire to go through with the idea. You suppose you do a lousy job of keeping that thought off your face as <<if $cp>>Checl places herself between the two of you.<<else>>Ne0 takes a step forward, gaining both of your attention.<</if>> You shake your head. "You can be pissed all you want, Zihr. But I'm not about to hold your hand and talk you through everything when our life is on the line." <<include "6.06.2">>
"You're free to follow me or stay out of my way. I won't hold your hand when our life is on the line." <<include "6.06.2">>
"Whoa! It must be convenient to have such a bad memory. I told you my plan, and you decided against it." "Most of the time, when people agree on a different plan, //everyone// follows that plan." "I don't know how to tell you this in a way to make you understand, but I'm not about to follow a bullshit plan when our lives are on the line." <<include "6.06.2">>
"Next time we get thrown into a stupid scrimmage, I'll keep that in mind. Okay, great. Glad we can all //finally// agree on something." "We're not done," he shouts, "we had a plan." "No, //you// had a plan. I don't know how to tell you this in a way to make you understand, but I'm not about to follow a bullshit plan when our lives are on the line." <<include "6.06.2">>
"Thank you to all the participants, and congratulations to our winners. Please return your weapons to the correct prep stations and return to the briefing room for further instruction and closing remarks." <<if $cp>>Zihr and Checl move past you, Zihr giving you his 'friendliest' scowl and Checl ignoring you completely.<<else>>Zihr moves past you, giving you his 'friendliest' scowl as he follows after the others.<</if>> At least there is that positive. Being the last individual standing, you're free from hearing Zihr's notes on the many things you did wrong. The masses do as the disembodied voice says, walking to their team's prep area and returning their weapons before returning to the briefing room. You follow their lead, racking your gun and, when taking off the vest, purposely putting it down so that you knock the others down and move to pick them up. One by one, the room clears out until you are alone. <a data-passage="6.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $cp>>\ "But our lives weren't on the line," Checl interjects, directing your attention to your surroundings with a sweep of her hand. "It was just a scrimmage." Your eye twitches, but you push whatever emotion threatens to boil over back down. "Was it not the two of you telling me earlier to take it seriously? I did what you asked, and now you're mad about it?" <<else>>\ "It was a scrimmage. None of us were at risk of dying." Your eye twitches, but you push whatever emotion threatens to boil over back down. "Did you not tell me earlier that I should take this seriously? As if this was the real thing?" "Affirmative," Ne0 voices, earning a nod from you and a glare from Zihr. "Exactly. So I do what you ask, and now you're mad about it?" <</if>>\ "<<if $cp>>We're mad that you left us<<else>>I'm mad that you left me<</if>> out of the loop! If this was real -" The intercom abruptly comes to life with a short ding. At that moment, the still bodies around you regain their ability to move and, with groggy movements, get to their feet and regroup with their respective teams. A few pass you glares, and others even go as far as to shove past you. Each receives nothing more than an internal sigh. "Thank you to all the participants, and congratulations to our winners. Please return your weapons to the correct prep stations and return to the briefing room for further instruction and closing remarks." Zihr throws you another annoyed expression, but you brush it off as you do every other look he gives you. The day the two of you learn to get along or even stand each other will probably also be the day Genisers willingly welcome cybernetics and take to the stars. The masses do as the disembodied voice says, walking to their team's prep area and returning their weapons before returning to the briefing room. You follow their lead, racking your gun and, when taking off the vest, purposely putting it down so that you knock the others down and move to pick them up. One by one, the room clears out until you are alone. <a data-passage="6.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
At long last, you exit the prep area, finding the halls empty, just as you hoped. There are probably five other things you can come up with that will be worth your time than dealing with a debriefing. Your team won a silly scrimmage that will have no actual bearing on the hunts you'll be sent on. It's like telling a child to write the alphabet and then, once completed, order them to write an essay because you deem them ready. In short, silly. Absurd. And frankly, you're beginning to realize why the wall of the fallen is so vast. But you will only have to suffer this for so long. You'll be free of this later. It is far more imperative that you ready yourself for such a time. Huh. Make that six things that hold more importance. Walking past the room you were to report to, you can hear the voices behind the door. "Is it even a fair win?" you hear one say. "That terran has those weird markings that I guarantee have something to do with them winning. I bet you they cheated." <<if $cp>>\ "They're tattoos," you hear Checl correct. "Sure they are. I want to see tests to prove that you're right." Others then choose to speak up as well, their voices melding into one booming and congruent sound, all agreeing with the previous speaker. <<else>>\ Others then choose to speak up as well, their voices melding into one booming and congruent sound, all agreeing with the previous speaker. <</if>>\ Ignoring the wish to throw open the door and defend yourself, you continue forward. Instead, you chide yourself for daring to still grow upset over such accusations. When will you let such words go? Angering you further is your lack of an answer. You know why those words bother you and will continue to do so. But admitting it feels like admitting to an joyful ex that you cried over the break-up and still want them back. It feels like admitting a detestable truth that will shake foundations. <a data-passage="6.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Continuing with the plan, you head to the elevator. But no sooner than you think the plan do you hear your name. Turning, you see Sin giving you an unsurprised look. "A word with you." They duck back into the room, and a voice whispers that you should keep walking. Accompanying that voice is a more than eager attitude that also wishes for you to make yourself scarce. <<if $markings is "blue">>It is incredibly childish but you even consider turning invisible to escape whatever awaits you in that room.<<else>>If you dart, then maybe you'll be able to make it to the elevator before Sin is ever the wiser.<</if>> You release a tired sigh and turn back, somewhat curious about the topic of discussion. "What do you want, Sin?" you start to ask before even entering the room, "I have a list of -" "This is $name, Supreme Commander." Sin hurriedly interjects, sending a glare your way before placing their attention on the familiar trarkran standing on the other side of a long table. The only other person in the room is Handler Vittorio, who stands off to the side, making sure to mask his face of any perceptible emotion. "Yes," the Supreme Commander nods, "well met." [[“If only I could say the same.”|6.08NawNotReally][$nightwalkers -=5]] [[“Yes. Well met.”|6.08AgreeIGuess][$nightwalkers +=5]] [[Remain silent.|6.08RemainSilent]]
"If only I could say the same," you remark, not even bothering to hide the scowl that appears. "Is that so?" she inquires, her ear twitching as she shifts her gaze towards Sin. "It seems your subordinate has forgotten one of the key rules here." "No," you interject, ignoring the look Sin gives you. "I've just met enough trarkrans to know that no matter what you say, you will never believe the shit you're spouting." She hums, her calm composure only angering you further. You rightfully know that she's not to blame for all of the things her people have put you through, but you'd be damned if a large part of you didn't want to rest it all on her shoulders. A single face to hate instead of the dozens that infest your nightmares. "Why did you not report to the briefing room?" [[“What's the point?”|6.08WhatPoint][$nightwalkers +=2]] [[“Must've missed that part of the instructions.”|6.08MissedThatMemo][$nightwalkers -=2]]
You nod, copying her demeanor. "Well met, indeed." "Why did you not report to the briefing room?" [[“What's the point?”|6.08WhatPoint][$nightwalkers +=2]] [[“Must've missed that part of the instructions.”|6.08MissedThatMemo][$nightwalkers -=2]]
You have nothing nice to say to her, but you also don't wish to worsen an uncertain situation. Thankfully, the Supreme Commander doesn't seem the least bit surprised. "Why did you not report to the briefing room?" [[“What's the point?”|6.08WhatPoint][$nightwalkers +=2]] [[“Must've missed that part of the instructions.”|6.08MissedThatMemo][$nightwalkers -=2]]
Shrugging, you answer, "What would the point be? We won an exercise. I don't need someone to congratulate me while in a room full of unhappy hunters staring me down." You hold your tongue, about to mention how they believe your win is unfair, but that is not a problem they should worry themselves over. "The point is not for you to be congratulated," she points out, "but to be debriefed on what you can do better." You snort. "Debriefed on what we can do better? On a scrimmage against colleagues? What can they tell me that will shift over to in-field work? Step quieter? Don't run into a dead-end while being chased when you're supposed to be the hunter?" "So you believe the scrimmage to be pointless?" You raise a brow. "Middling." She stifles a chuckle that you doubt expresses any humor and then gestures for you to continue, much to your chagrin. "I simply don't see the point. Call it training if you want, but it won't help in the field." "An entire organization of renowned hunters will disagree." "And I'm sure that wall of fallen hunters will beg to agree." "$name," Sin warns, and you heed their warnings. You should have just kept walking. The elevator had been right there. <a data-passage="6.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, I suppose I missed that part of the instructions." She stares at you for a moment longer before gazing at Sin, who also remains quiet and instead chooses to speak with their expressions. Shaphs have always had a knack for being expressive despite your first impressions of their appearance. Rough, bark-like skin that seems too hard to stretch. No brows but brow ridges that may not be as easily manipulated. But they project their thoughts just as skillfully as any terran or raza. And at that moment, their projected thoughts scream for you to stop being such a smartass. "It seems like a lot of instructions slip by your notice," she mentions, her gaze no longer resting on you but on a random spot. "Why was I called here?" "Because you obviously feel that you are above such needless debriefings." "You wouldn't be here if that was the case. The other Commanders with groups in the scrimmage would all be here, and Sin would have just happened to see me walk by and call me over. This meeting is specifically for me." "Yes. And if you had gone to your debriefing, it would have just been postponed until after." "Really starting to feel like an intervention," you snort, but no one seems to find the humor in your words. <a data-passage="6.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $nightwalkers >=10>>\ The Supreme Commander slowly pulls out her seat and takes it, cocking her head as she scrutinizes you with a gaze that you find far too reminiscent. Give her a pair of pale brown eyes, and they would fit the Baroness' likeness wholly. And suddenly, you're an adolescent again, lost in an unfamiliar world and resting underneath the shoes of a woman wishing to break you. You swallow that memory, willing it to join the others in a chasm you once thought lost to light. "Do you know why you're here? Pertaining to the Nightwalkers, I mean," the Supreme Commander questions, her steely gaze having yet to relinquish you from her hold. You glance at Sin, finding no reason not to say what the entire room probably already understood. "Because of the singular vouch from a shaph?" "Indeed," she smiles, but it lacks an affable nature. "And it is because of that shaph that you remain here. I'm not going to ask that you play nice for me or this organization. But I will say that you should do it for them. Regardless of your gratitude, your life would have turned out very different, very perennial otherwise." She stands. "Do remember that bit of fact. And congratulations on //your// win," she tells you, emphasizing the wrong word, in your opinion. Judging by her expression, you'd say that each word she said was purposeful. She gives each of you a nod before gathering her things and leaving the room. <<else>>\ "Humor me," the Supreme Commander begins, taking a seat at the table, "do you know what happens when your luck runs out, and I find that you're more of a liability to our organization than an asset?" "You kick me out." "Yes, in a way. But I kick you out, and you head back to prison because you failed to serve your time here, and so you'll serve your time there. So, unless you wish for that to happen I suggest you put a muzzle on that mouth of yours. I, unlike Sin, do not care where you come from or what you were." She stands. "Like I said the first day I greeted all of you, we leave what we were at those doors. Tell us now if you can't do that so we can rectify it." You remain quiet. "Excellent. And congratulations on //your// win," she tells you, emphasizing the wrong word, in your opinion. Judging by her expression, you'd say that each word she said was purposeful. She gives each of you a nod before gathering her things and leaving the room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You wait a few seconds before turning to Sin and saying, "So, I guess it's too late to ask how to get on her good side?" <<if $moran_xeno>>\ Sin slightly cocks their head to the side. "You look as if someone personally offends you whenever her name comes up." "It's not just her name but her entire species if that makes a difference." "Hardly," Sin chuckles, standing slowly and resembling that of someone who has already surpassed their prime. But then, as if a facade, it all falls away the second they begin walking. <<else>>\ "You lack people skills," Vittorio inserts, reminding you of the terran's presence. "Don't forget patience and subtlety as well. So when I tell you that I -" "Play nice," Sin chuckles, standing slowly and resembling that of someone who has already surpassed their prime. But then, as if a facade, it all falls away the second they begin walking. <</if>>\ Despite arriving at the door before Vittorio, he is the first to leave, leaving you and Sin on opposite sides of the threshold. "You should rest. Prepare yourself for tomorrow. You'll be given your first hunt." "You say that as if the hunt will be difficult." "For your team, probably not. For you, I have my doubts." "What is that supposed to mean?" you question as Sin moves to leave. "Go over your actions in the scrimmage," they shout over their shoulder. "You will realize where my worries stem." You don't have to re-scrutinize anything; you know what they are referring to, and if one more person brings it up, you're punching them. But you do act on one piece of their advice. Sleep. You are not physically tired, but mentally, and you would much rather be in the safety of your room than face the accusations Zihr will levy against you. You'll deal with all of that tomorrow. <a data-passage="6.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> "Welcome to your first mission briefing," Commander Sin starts, casting a single look in your direction. "And congratulations on winning the scrimmage. Normally, you will receive word of the hunt and then be debriefed the same day you are sent out. Typically, I will not be present; I have an entire floor of hunters who still need me and my own paperwork to complete. Therefore, your handler will give you all information pertaining to your hunt. He will also provide support while you are out in the field. Any questions?" You all remain silent, and with that, Sin nods to Vittorio and leaves the room. "Let's get started." Pressing a button on his tablet, a face appears on the holo-screen behind him, a raza. "Allow me to introduce you to Sahr, a raza once involved in petty crimes such as thievery and vandalism. About a year or so ago, he began to smuggle goods and now finds himself smuggling weapons and drugs from planet to planet. He was spotted two days ago in Tebriri and we have reason to believe he's still here due to business." "No disguise or camera-interrupting technology?" Zihr questions. "Is he that bold?" "Many are," Vittorio informs. "Mostly because they fail to realize that a bounty has been put out on them." "Do you typically see smugglers on your list?" you question, and Vittorio nods. "Usually we get the elusive ones or those that tend to piss off several different governments. This one is the former. He is more prone to run than fight you, and other organizations have reported that he always seems to have in-depth knowledge of the area he's in." <<if $cp>>"Are you saying that he'll run and vanish?" Checl asks, and the look she receives answers her question. "Then how are we supposed to catch him? Split up and hope to get lucky?"<<else>>"So, he'll run and then vanish. What then?" Zihr asks.<</if>> "Well, that's part of your job. You and the others know each other's strengths and weaknesses the most. Your job is to bring him in alive." "Do we get paid less if we're unsuccessful in that?" Vittorio peers at you as if he had only been waiting for you to ask such a question. "You don't get paid at all. For the hunts with options, I'll tell you. This isn't one of those hunts. Go in and bring Sahr back //alive//." The screen goes dark, and you receive a message on your chips. <a data-passage="6.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $class is "sniper">> <<set $armor_type to "light"; $w_primary to "sniper">> <<elseif $class is "engineer">> <<set $armor_type to "medium">> <<else>> <</if>> <<set $ch_loadout to 6>> <</nobr>>\ "I've just sent each of you the dossier on the bounty. Included is all I told you and more, as well as the coordinates for his last known area. Head to the prep area and head out as soon as you can. Buona fortuna." Concluding the briefing, Vittorio releases you to grab your new gear and weapons. No one says anything on the journey there, much to your relief. You'll be completely fine with never having to answer for your deeds from yesterday, especially when it comes to Zihr. He'll probably be the only one perturbed enough to confront you. Ne0 seems like the type to let bygones be bygones, if not due to logic but simply because it simply knows no better. <<if $cp>>Checl, she'll be bothered, and you'll probably hear about it in passing but not in the same fashion as Zihr.<</if>> <<if $class is "specialist" or $class is "engineer">>\ You finish equipping your armor, making mental notes on the first impressions of the material, weight, and what modifications you'd want to add in the future. You decided to choose: [[The medium armor.|6.12.1][$armor_type to "medium"]] <<if $class is "specialist">>[[The heavy armor.|6.12.1][$armor_type to "heavy"]]<</if>> <<if $class is "hunter">>[[The light armor.|6.12.1][$armor_type to "light"]]<</if>> <<else>>\ You finish equipping your $armor_type armor, making mental notes on the first impressions of the material, weight, and what modifications you'd want to add in the future. <<include "6.12.1">> <</if>>\
After, you grab and secure your weapon<<if $class is "sniper">>.<<else>>, choosing …<</if>> //Note: If you are able to use $hound's toxin in canisters, a plasma gun will allow the ability to load such ammo. Otherwise, be sure to keep an eye out on a gun mod.// [[… the rifle.|6.12.2][$w_primary to "rifle"]] [[… the plasma.|6.12.2][$w_primary to "plasma"]] [[… the shotgun.|6.12.2][$w_primary to "shotgun"]] <<if $class is not "specialist">>[[… the pistol.|6.12.2][$w_primary to "pistol"]]<</if>>
The last thing you decide upon is a secondary weapon. Back in the Dinami, it was always a blade; you had no need for anything else. //Besides a silencer//. But ever since you noticed a certain vetix using the weapon, you haven't really been a fan of it. You grab … [[… a melee blade.|6.12.3][$w_secondary to "knife"]] [[… the grenades.|6.12.3][$w_secondary to "grenades"]] <<if $w_primary is not "pistol">>[[… the pistol.|6.12.3][$w_secondary to "pistol"]]<</if>>
While the others continue preparing, you head up to your room to grab $hound, making a mental note that one of these days, you should run through all of his learned commands. After a few of these hunts, you'll probably find others to add, but you want to ensure you don't overlap any of them. You may also need to look up more information on the hounds and ensure you are doing everything right. "Everyone ready?" Zihr asks, struggling with his magnetic holsters. [[Help him.|6.12HelpHim][$zihrLo +=1]] [[Vocally tell him how to do it.|6.12TellHim]] [[Leave him to it.|6.12LeaveHimToIt]]
You head to his side, ignoring the bewildered look he offers as you take the gun from his hand and hover it over the magnet. "These are older models," you tell him as the magnet practically rips the compressed weapon out of your hands and secures it. "They need a moment to register." "And the newer ones?" "The magnet is quicker, and it doesn't matter where the weapon is; it'll lock it in place." <<include "6.12.4">>
You wave your hand, catching his attention. "Flip it and hover it over the magnet until you feel it practically ripping it out of your hands. If you don't feel that, it's a weak connection and won't completely lock when you release it." He does as you say, and a second later, it works. "It'll be second nature the more you do it." <<include "6.12.4">>
He'll figure it out. He's a big boy. <<include "6.12.4">>
You check your gear one last time, pausing when you catch sight of your reflection. It feels like decades have passed since you've worn something like this, and even then, it's not a direct replica. <<if $armor_type is "heavy">>You never wore the heavier style of armor; in fact, you're not sure anyone from the Dinami did. Speed and agility were the primary concerns, not protection. If someone managed to shoot you and it proved fatal, then that was your own fault.<</if>> <<if $cp>>\ "I think I'm ready," Checl announces, grabbing the room's attention. "Do you guys have everything?" "Yea," Zihr answers. "You have your gun," Checl inquires, looking between all three of you. "Your secondary weapon?" You open your mouth but she continues going down her checklist. "Did you guys save the dossier message so that you can easily open it?" She pauses. "Did you even know you can? I can show you?" [[“We're fine, mom.”|6.12AllGoodMom][$checl +=2]] [[“Fuck off, Checl.”|6.12FuckOff][$checl -=5]] [[“Yea, we're good.”|6.12WeGucci][$checl +=5]] [[Let the others handle it.|6.12TheyCanHandleIt][$checl -=2]] <<else>>\ <<include "6.13">> <</if>>\
"Calm down, mom. We got it handled." She bristles at the insinuation and makes a gesture that you have received a few times before. And, like those times, you simply smile. <<include "6.13">>
"Damn, Checl. Will you fuck off? We have this handled." She deflates, frowning and glancing away as she mumbles, "I was just making sure." "We have everything," Zihr tells her, offering a friendly smile that causes you to roll your eyes in exasperation. "Affirmative," Ne0 says next, and you fight the need to throw a glare at him and call him a traitor. <<include "6.13">>
"Yes, Checl," you smile, "we have everything we need." She manages a smile, albeit one that feels forced, and you predict it has to do with her current feelings for you. No need to take it personally, you suppose. <<include "6.13">>
You finish what you need to do and head out, letting them discuss their last-minute checklist themselves. <<include "6.13">>
Heading towards the car, you load $hound first before sitting beside Ne0. The coordinates lead you to the far outskirts of Tebriri, where the capital's sector meets that of Talke's. Many call them median strips, a name similar to the one that describes the divide between roads back on terran. These demaracations were where the objectionable members of society usually were. Predominantly petty criminals, active addicts, or those who refused to work and so they couldn't find a suitable place to live. The rules here are comparable to the Outlands in the fact that they are unwritten and learned mainly by those who inhabit the area. Mind your business and handle everything yourself. If you are lucky to find yourself fortunate, don't return. Ne0, after agreeing with your proposal to park farther away, finds a place, and the <<if $cp>>four<<else>>three<</if>> of you continue on foot. <a data-passage="6.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The area where your quarry is believed to be feels unnaturally quiet and empty. A few souls wander around, but one would suspect it to be night with the lack of people populating the streets. You also take note of just how obvious <<if $cp>>four<<else>>three<</if>> outsiders and aiczeots will look to everyone here. There will be no proper way to sneak up on your target. "Where is everyone?" Zihr asks, mirroring your grimace. "I've never seen Tebriri this empty." "That's because this is outside of the city. Think Outlands." "This looks nothing like that." "Yes. I mean, think of it regarding the characters you'll meet here." <<if $cp>>Checl snorts. "If they're anything like other places then the folks here are worse." You're not exactly sure you'd agree. If anything, they all seem much the same. Desperate, idiotic, crazed, or all three on a bad day.<</if>> "Last known location reached," Ne0 reports. <<if $leader is "Moran">>\ You pause. "It'd be smart to split up. Easier then to cover all the areas and <<if $cp>>two<<else>>one<</if>> is a lot less scary to face than <<if $cp>>four." They each nod, and you turn to …<<else>>three."<</if>> <<if $cp>>\ //Though each path be taken and played with a non-romanced Moran, the choices for Zihr and Checl hold valuable romantic content to further their romance paths.// [[… Checl.|6.14Checl][$checlLo +=1]] [[… Zihr.|6.14Zihr][$zihrLo +=1]] [[… Ne0.|6.14Ne0][$ne0Lo +=1]] <<else>>\ "Radio in when you find the bounty," you tell the others as you wander off to the left, $hound happily padding beside you. <<include "6.14Lone">> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if $cp>>\ "We'll split up," Zihr tells all of you. His finger pointing at you as he teams you up with … //Though each path be taken and played with a non-romanced Moran, the choices for Zihr and Checl hold valuable romantic content to further their romance paths.// [[… Checl.|6.14Checl][$checlLo +=1]] [[… Ne0.|6.14Ne0][$ne0Lo +=1]] [[… himself.|6.14Zihr][$zihrLo +=1]] <<else>>\ "We'll all split up and radio in when we find the bounty." You don't bother to disagree because you wish to be on your own. At least then, you'll cover more ground with ease. Upon deciding who is to go where, the three of you go your separate ways, with you heading to the left with $hound happily padding beside you. <<include "6.14Lone">> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
You glance over at Checl who gives you a shy nod, seeming to be confused about how she should feel about this news. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>Sighing, part of you wants to point out that you already have a partner, that and that you'll work far quicker on your own. But by the time you were ready to present your argument, Zihr and Ne0 have walked off. Your mouth closes, a frown taking shape as you watch them go and then glance back at Checl.<<else>>If you believed Checl to be the wiser option to avoid speaking of the events of yesterday, you receive your answer. She's never cared about what you do and how you do it but then again, you have never directly put her in harm's way.<</if>> "This way, I guess," she mumbles, nodding to the left. Remaining silent, the three of you walk down the street. You both do your best to remain at least somewhat inconspicuous. You won't be able to hide the fact that you're well-armed but you can always shield your actual purpose. There is an uneasy peace existing between the two that you do your best to ignore. Whenever you glance in her direction, you can see just how much she wishes to speak. Constant shifting, opening then closing her mouth, and feathers that seem unable to relax despite their owner constantly patting them. "Just say what's on your mind before you explode." Her eyes widen in horror and you wave anything she may comment about the saying away. "What is it, Checl?" "It's nothing." And yet her frown only grows as she speaks the words. "Fine, then I'll say it so that we can move on. When did you start giving a care about how I take care of things?" "I don't," she blurts, probably more offended by the fact that you read her so easily. "Or what I mean to say is that I still don't. It's wrong, but when it's not directed towards me then I can stomach it more. But what you did involved me and I know you well enough to know that it wasn't the pluck of a tail feather. It's because you don't care about what happens to me." She shrugs, turning to hide her face as she wraps herself in her own embrace. "Maybe you never did and I was just being silly this entire time. I did practically throw myself onto you. You never wanted me around. But …" she shakes her head, nodding at the street. "We need to focus." She practically darts off to escape the conversation. [[Grab her, explaining your position.|6.14GrabHer][$checl +=5]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Grab and reassure her.|6.14ReassureHer][$checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Is that embarrassment I see?”|2.03Embarrassment][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Catch up with her and explain your side.|6.14ExplainYourSide][$checl +=5]] [[Let her go.|6.14LetHerGo][$checl -=5]]
"Checl," you say just as you reach out to grab hold of her. When she stops and turns to her, you release her and sigh. "It's not that I don't care about you or your life. It's nothing like that." "But you can't explain what it is?" Whatever happened to focusing, you wonder. Though you suppose that's your fault, you're the one who grabbed her and began this conversation. "I can. The question is if you'll understand it." "Try me. I've known you for a year." That causes you to smirk, releasing a dubious chuckle. "Others have known me for longer and still haven't pieced it together." Attempting to put your thoughts into words proves harder than you initially believed. Everything is either too much, too little, or too confusing. How can you say you care about someone's life but, in the same vein, know that if all the pieces fell in the least desirable way, then the previous statement is null and void? "$name," Checl speaks, giving your mind a reprieve. "Just answer this for me. Am I just convenient bait?" "No." "Okay. Tell me when you're ready, but also stop just using me … using us whenever you think it's your prerogative. At least tell us. Even if we disagree, at least we're warned and not blindsided but someone we're meant to trust." She pauses and beats you to the punch. "Sorry, someone we believe is on our side." You can at least agree to that because it keeps you from revealing things you're not ready for. Turning, Checl seems lighter on her feet now, and you continue your search for the bounty. She got her answer, but you have always found it interesting that the one question she truly wishes to know, she has never asked again. The one time she brought it up in the Outlands, you never gave a proper retort, and each time you speak like this, you can see it on the tip of her tongue. But it is never uttered, and though you are thankful for that, you still find it curious. Mainly because you don't know the answer yourself. Or perhaps you do; you simply like to remain ignorant regarding the topic of whether Checl is a friend or just someone who hitched themselves to your journey. <a data-passage="6.14Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You reach out to grab her before she can get too far ahead. "That's not the case at all, and you know that." "I don't know anything when it comes to you." "Name all the times I've //actually// put you in harm's way, and let's take yesterday off that list. Because yesterday, as <<if hasVisited("6.04FireGun")>>you kept reminding, was not real.<<else>>we both know, was not real."<</if>> Her mouth closes, and you give her a few minutes to devise even one instance. When the quiet prolongs, you nod. "Thought so. I'm an asshole, but I'm not //that// kind of asshole. Especially when it comes to you." You realize that her hands are still in yours, and though your first instinct is to release them, your second wish is to imagine a life where you don't. Such a thought is so tempting that it's hard to liberate yourself and reestablish the necessary battlements. Sighing, you drop her hands. "You want some kind of confession. I get it. <<if hasVisited("4.25Checl5")>>You were hoping for one when we were venturing the city. Nothing has changed. One day, you'll look around, but I won't be there.<<else>>That night you came to my room, you said as long as I don't leave you behind, you'll be fine. But that's where the problem stems: because I will.<</if>> I can't tell you when or how, and I damn sure can't say why. But I assure you it will happen, and you'll hate me for it." "I could never hate you," she whispers but you wave her words away as if an annoying gnat. "You will. So understand now why you and me will never be more than just some interesting scenario." You start to walk away when she stops you. "And nothing I say will change your mind?" [[“You'll change my mind.”|6.14YesMind][$checlRo +=5]] [[“No.” You lie.|6.14NoLie][$checlRo -=3]] [[“No.” You say truthfully.|6.14NoTruth][$checlRo -=5]]
"Oh, you'll most definitely be able to change my mind," you laugh. "But you won't change the outcome. And you'll hate me even more then." "You don't know the future," she reminds. "No. But I have a pretty good idea how it'll go." You gesture to the street. "We're on a hunt. Let's focus." <<include "6.14Checl2">>
"No," you lie. She deflates, and with confirmation that you won't have to add more lies to your bullshit story, you gesture to the street. "We're on a hunt. Let's focus." <<include "6.14Checl2">>
"No," you tell her, a surprising amount of truth in that single word. She deflates, and with that conversation meeting its end, you gesture to the street. "We're on a hunt. Let's focus." <<include "6.14Checl2">>
"Checl," you sigh as you move to catch up to her. Thankfully, she hadn't rushed off and just went a few extra steps ahead. "It's not that I don't care about you or your life. It's nothing like that." "But you can't explain what it is?" Whatever happened to focusing, you wonder. Though you suppose that's your fault, you're the one who grabbed her and began this conversation. "I can. The question is if you'll understand it." "Try me. I've known you for a year." That causes you to smirk, releasing a dubious chuckle. "Others have known me for longer and still haven't pieced it together." Attempting to put your thoughts into words proves harder than you initially believed. Everything is either too much, too little, or too confusing. How can you say you care about someone's life but, in the same vein, know that if all the pieces fell in the least desirable way, then the previous statement is null and void? "$name," Checl speaks, giving your mind a reprieve. "Just answer this for me. Am I just convenient bait?" "No." "Okay. Tell me when you're ready, but also stop just using me … using us whenever you think it's your prerogative. At least tell us. Even if we disagree, at least we're warned and not blindsided but someone we're meant to trust." She pauses and beats you to the punch. "Sorry, someone we believe is on our side." You can at least agree to that because it keeps you from revealing things you're not ready for. Turning, Checl seems lighter on her feet now, and you continue your search for the bounty. She got her answer, but you have always found it interesting that the one question she truly wishes to know, she has never asked again. The one time she brought it up in the Outlands, you never gave a proper retort, and each time you speak like this, you can see it on the tip of her tongue. But it is never uttered, and though you are thankful for that, you still find it curious. Mainly because you don't know the answer yourself. Or perhaps you do; you simply like to remain ignorant regarding the topic of whether Checl is a friend or just someone who hitched themselves to your journey. <a data-passage="6.14Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You watch as she dashes away, but you do nothing to stop her. There are no words you can utter that will comfort her or give her peace of mind. [[You care about her but …|6.14Care][$checl +=5]] [[You don't really care about her.|6.14DontCare][$checl -=5]]
You care about her but not in the way she wishes. Or maybe it is. She probably wants you to admit that she's a friend, and though she is not your enemy, the term friend is used far too loosely for your liking. You would never throw Checl's in harm's way, even if sometimes your actions tell a different story. That is a problem in and of itself, one that you recognize but would be lying to say that you'll fix. <<include "6.14Checl2">>
The simple fact is that you don't care about her, not in that way. She's an acquaintance and a teammate. You won't bend over backward to accommodate or make her feel better, and like most people you meet, she is a means to an end. And though that is how you feel, you see very little advantage in telling her that. Making an enemy, no matter how little you fear them, is not a good idea and wastes energy. So, that really is no point in reassuring her. No point in manipulating her when she is already somewhat on your side. You would never kill her outright or do something purposeful that would lead to her death. No, you don't want another's blood on your hands in that way. But you will not sit and lie and boldly claim that you care. You catch up with her, but only because she slows down. Unlike before, she makes a point of not peering over at you. Both of you need to focus. <<include "6.14Checl2">>
The rest of the walk is silent, though not for the same reasons as before. The two of you check every alley and peer inside any building that allows it. Countless times, Checl brings up the picture of the raza and rereads the facts as if his dossier will hold some clue as to his whereabouts. A hunt like this was simply based on luck and timing. The coordinates were two days old; for all you know, the bounty has left the area and could be in an entirely different sector. You've worked with far less information, sometimes receiving only a picture and a name. The difference is that you're not free to go wherever and do whatever. There is a leash on you that has never been present when you resided under the Dinami's sharp eye. Or, if it did exist, it was loose and extended far enough to make one feel free. You also have a time limit, that being the sun. These streets may grow busier at night, and the unsavory crowd will pose a problem. Taking your eyes off a dingy storefront on the other side of the street, you catch movement in front of you; sure enough, it's your bounty. "Checl," you murmur, lightly slapping her arm, "radio in our location. I'm going to go case the building." Checl asks no question, and though she follows you—albeit slowly—she does as you ask. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $leader is "Zihr">>You raise a brow as the words "you're with me" slips past his lips. A lecture, you immediately think. Something something about how you should never do what you did in the scrimmage again. Something something else about how you're keeping secrets, and it'll put all of them in danger. Something something about how you should act, indicating even more that he places himself on some virtuous pedestal. And by then, hopefully, you'd have managed to zone him out or say something ludicrous enough to cause him to shut up.<<else>>You spy the look he gives Checl as if asking her to save him from whatever he thinks you have planned. You almost want to laugh, as if you'd place that much energy into setting something up.<</if>> The other two head off in their direction, and though you turn to the left, you don't move. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ "Why'd you put me with you? Scared, I'll sacrifice one of our teammates?" "Don't even joke," he growled. "Why not? It's obvious you're worried I'll do something stupid, so you're trying to keep your eye on me." He doesn't rise to the bait and begins to walk. That's fine with you. Silence can oversee this entire mission, and you will be quite pleased. <<else>>\ "Why?" Zihr asks. "Because I was hoping you'd be too pissed off to speak to me." You shoot him a wry smirk, "don't prove me wrong." He grumbles something but otherwise remains silent. You're curious to see how long that will last, though. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.14Zihr2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The three of you walk down the street, doing your best to remain at least somewhat inconspicuous. You won't be able to hide the fact that you're well-armed, but you can always shield your actual purpose. Proof of this reveals itself when you pass a group who, one minute, look as if they wish to test your mettle and, the next, slink off into the darkness of the alley. "I guess they don't want to cross us," Zihr surmises, a tinge of pride in his voice. You would agree if you believed him to be correct. No. They probably just needed greater incentive to be drawn from their warrens. Each abandoned storefront you pass, you check out, making sure no hidden deals with your bounty are taking place. Each search finds Zihr's frown deepening until you have to question whether frowning is an exercise. "This is wasteful," he finally voices. "This entire area could be rebuilt so more people could have homes. This entire area could hold half of the Dread's population. Why not do that? How hard could it be?" [[“It's a matter of time and care.”|6.14MatterOfTimeCare][$zihr -=5]] [[“Easy answer. Very hard.”|6.14EasyVery][$zihr +=5]]
"Hard? No, probably not. But you're focused on the wrong question." "Then what's the right one?" "How much time do people have, and how much care do they hold." He looks taken aback, and you almost want to laugh at his callowness. This barely touches the overarching problem of those in power not caring for those who rest at the bottom of their perfect world. Some societies care more, some cultures have it flipped, or the entire matter is nonexistent. But most of what you find is the same. "And everyone is fine with that? Fine with people suffering and doing nothing about it?" "You'd make a great point if it weren't for other factors. Solars determine everything, and most people don't have deep enough pockets. Some would rather not have the spotlight cast on them, and if that means turning their backs on others' problems, then that's what they do. And some help, but it's never enough." "It's not right." "What are you going to do, hero?" you inquire, cocking your head at Zihr. "You're going to revolutionize the entire galaxy? You don't even understand the issues plaguing it." <a data-passage="6.14Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, that's easy to answer. Very." He shakes his head, but you don't let him say anything as you continue. "Tearing down these buildings and rebuilding them takes solars. It takes time and a workforce. Once you have all that, you now have to figure out the quality. If you build this into something spectacular, then you basically just gentrified the neighborhood. Granted, it wasn't anything before, but all of these people now have nowhere to go because they won't be able to afford that. They'll set off to some other poor neighborhood and hope history doesn't repeat until they're forced to live on the streets. If they do the bare minimum, these people still have somewhere to go, but it'll be a matter of months before they're back where they started, and then they truly will have no hope. No one is going to sink millions of solars into a project that has already failed once." "And that makes all of this okay? Give them jobs then. Or better yet, why not do it because it's the right thing?" "Another easy answer, there's no gain." "Not everything -" "I get it, Zihr. You want to right the world's wrongs. The world is black and white, wrong and right to you, yes?" He squints, knowing you'll have more to say, but rises to the bait anyway. "Yes." "And that's where your thoughts are skewed. It's never that simple. Hardly ever are the choices that clear. And sometimes, even when they are, the people in charge don't care. When you learn that, then come to me about your plans to revolutionize the world." <a data-passage="6.14Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You believe the conversation to be over and done with and though vocally it is, you can still see the gears shifting in Zihr's head. For someone restrained to the Outlands, a lawless land, he has morals that would make any wholesome law enforcement group smile. However, that is also a problem, especially since everyone has their own idea of justice and right versus wrong. The simple thought swings back around to the scrimmage and Zihr's refusal to talk about it. Before, you were glad to see that he seemed to have no intention of doing so, but now … well, now it's beginning to bug you. "Humor me. You haven't said anything about the scrimmage, which has to be some kind of personal achievement on you chiding me." "You almost sound like you want me to." "If only to be sure it's still you in there," you say mockingly. He shrugs. "What's the point of saying something to you when you don't care? You'll say something that just pisses me off. Something about how our lives are meaningless to you, but it'll sound even more cryptic, and that'll be that. No one can argue with you. No one smart anyway." "I'm not sure, but did you just call yourself stupid?" you snort. Zihr abruptly stops and jerks around to face you. "I don't give a damn about why you do what you do, but I have to ask why you do that." "Do what?" "When you want to change the topic, you make a joke<<if $zihrRoPo >=2>>, say something that just shows how much of an ass you are, or try to flirt.<<else>> or say something that just shows how much of an ass you are.<</if>> <a data-passage="6.14Zihr4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ You choke on your spit, having to pat your chest a few times to calm down. Even $hound wanders over to check that you're alright. "Or you over-exaggerate," he huffs. "I'm sorry. Try?" "That's all you heard. Isn't it?" "No. But that is what I'm going to choose to highlight. Again, try?" "It obviously doesn't work," he mutters, continuing down the soiled and damaged sidewalk. "I see," you hum. "So your ears just turn that color from what? Anger?" "Yes," he hisses, but you give him a doubtful look that begs him to try again. This time, with a better excuse. "Zihr, if that was true, your ears would be that color every time you talk to me." "Great. So you understand how much you piss me off." "Do you ever stop and wonder if I do it intentionally?" <a data-passage="6.14ZihrR1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "Well, obviously, it's because I don't want to continue the conversation," you point out. "Being silent works just as easily." "And let you get in the last word?" "Forget it," he mumbles. "You're doing it even now." You glance over at him. You never realized that you do that until he pointed it out, and now that he has, you're not sure how you feel about it. You doubt you can change how you react, but the thought of someone so easily being able to figure out what topics you wish to avoid doesn't sit well either. Before you glance away, your eyes catch movement behind you, and it takes no time to realize that the person leaving the store is your bounty. He hasn't yet noticed you, but that will soon change. "Move," you grumble, grabbing Zihr and pulling him into the nearest alley. You cover his mouth before he can shout, motioning for him to stay quiet. $hound, unlike your raza teammate, follows you in, making no scene. Once you finally remove your hand, he asks, "what the hell are you doing?" At least he whispers it. "Our bounty is right behind us." "And you couldn't just say that?" "No time." You shift so that if you're caught, at least it looks like you're just two other shady characters having a conversation. A few minutes go by before the bounty passes, possessing no idea that you're there. Both of you head to the alley's opening and watch as he enters a nearby building resting on the other side of the street. "Radio in our location," you murmur, moving towards the building. "Where are you going?" "To check the building." Thankfully, he doesn't move to stop you. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Seeing I don't think about you randomly, no. I don't ever stop and wonder that." "That," you laugh as you turn to face him while still walking, "almost hurt my feelings." Your eyes catch movement behind you, and it takes almost no time to realize that the person leaving the store is your bounty. He hasn't yet noticed you, but that will soon change. Glancing behind you, you spot an alley nearing. "You must remind me, when did you suddenly get feelings?" he asks, unaware of what is about to happen. The question hardly leaves his mouth as you grab and push him into the dim passage, covering his mouth before he can question you. $hound, unlike your raza teammate, follows you in, making no scene. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Oops, this is my attempt at flirting again.”|6.14AttemptAtFlirting][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=5]]<<else>>[[“Oops, this is my attempt at flirting again.”|6.14AttemptAtFlirting][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I've always had feelings.”|6.14AlwaysHadFeelings][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=5]]<<else>>[[“I've always had feelings.”|6.14AlwaysHadFeelings][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=5]]<</if>>
"Sorry," you grin as you lean in closer to Zihr, "this was but another attempt at flirting. I'm trying to switch up my style. See if a more hands-on approach works with you." He mumbles something against your hand, tickling it. You're not quite sure if you're mad that you didn't understand or not. You flick his ear. "I could've sworn they weren't this red a moment ago." He finally decides to grab your hand, snatching it away from his mouth as he leans in to hiss. "That's because I wasn't pissed a moment ago." As Zihr continues to question you or, more so, insinuate all the reasons you could possibly have had to shove him into this alley, you notice the distance between you. Only a few inches rest between your lips<<if $s_att is "present">>, and your mind is arrested by prurient thoughts. Thoughts you will not act on, but you find no reason not to voice them.<<else>>.<</if>> "You're quite kissable, you know that?" Zihr's eyes widen, and he pauses, finally noticing the distance between you. He shies away like some overstrung grade school child who realizes that their chastity is on the line. Though, perhaps he is just that. His eyes avoid yours, but they do a poor job of ignoring your lips and drinking in the closeness the two of you have come to share. His grip tightens around your wrist, something you had not noticed until now, but it also brings you to your senses. This … this is a very dangerous game. Teasing and 'trying' to flirt, fine. Thinking he is attractive and that his personality isn't always annoying, sure, whatever. But this. This is a far more physical game that you're not sure you'll be the winner of. You can get him as flustered as possible and even steal a kiss or two. But if your currently thumping heart is anything to go off of, it means you're the loser. How many kisses until that's enough? How many light touches and sensual gazes until you've had your fill? <a data-passage="6.14ZR1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're beginning to have a headache at his closeness. Thoughts and images of what could be and what will never be cause your heart to thud and quake. No matter how many times you tell yourself to calm down, it doesn't. "Shame," you snort, wrestling back as much control as you can as you move away from him. Zihr's grip on your wrist is still there, loosening the more you pull away but it is not the kind of action someone who is now relieved for you to be gone would have. If he told you to come back. If he pulled you close and claimed your lips, how much willpower would you have to stop it? What part of you would even care to end it? "Oh," you start, clearing your throat due to the breathlessness, "and our bounty just walked by. Would you like to cuss me out, or should we follow him?" Zihr doesn't answer, staring at you in a way he's never done before. Finally, he pushes past you as the two of you follow behind the bounty, who's a few feet ahead. The tips of his ears still that discernible dark red. "Radio in our location," you murmur, moving towards the building. "Where are you going?" "To check the building." Thankfully, he doesn't move to stop you. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Also, I've always had feelings. Just because I don't wear them on my sleeve like Checl or even you doesn't mean I don't possess them." He mumbles something against your hand, tickling it. You can only begin to guess what he may have said. "Maybe it's a good thing I didn't understand that. Sounds like it would've hurt those feelings I was just talking about." He finally grabs your hand, snatching it away from his mouth as he leans in to hiss, "I'd be glad to repeat it and more." "No need," you chuckle softly, absentmindedly reaching up to tug on one of his loose curls. Most of it has been pulled back to reside in a bun. "It doesn't take a genius to know you're not my biggest fan." Surprisingly, he doesn't move away from your touch. Probably trying to prove that your touch isn't phasing him. "That's your own doing. You're not sincere. Everything is a game to you." "Is it? I always thought I was overly honest. Sure, I refuse to talk about some things, but then I'll tell you as much." "Then answer this," he pauses, appearing as if he'll recant words he hasn't yet said. He tugs you closer, and your eyes widen just a smidge at the closeness. "Why do you keep flirting with me?" You're taken aback, not even bothering to hide the shock. You were preparing for him to ask about your past or your motives. You search his face as if it will hold your answer or if it will explain why, out of all the questions he could ask, he chose that. At most, you learn that he is sincere. A realization that bothers you even more. Another realization that you can't ignore is the thumping of your heart against your chest. <a data-passage="6.14ZR2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Teasing and 'trying' to flirt, fine. Thinking he is attractive and that his personality isn't always annoying, sure, whatever. But this. This is a far more physical game that you're not sure you're prepared to back away from. You can get him as flustered as possible and even steal a kiss or two. But if your currently thumping heart is anything to go off of, it means you've gone too far. How many kisses until that's enough? How many light touches and sensual gazes until you've had your fill? When will you be able to know when to stop and turn? "Oh," you start, clearing your throat due to the breathlessness, "our bounty just walked by. Would you like to cuss me out, or should we follow him?" Zihr doesn't answer, staring at you in a way he's never done before but then the look is gone, replaced by furiousness. Finally, he shakes his head with a sneer. "So is that your way of telling me you won't answer? Probably because you don't have a reason. You do things," he hisses, "to fuck with people." He pushes past you as the two of you follow behind the bounty, who's a few feet ahead. The tips of his ears still that discernible dark red. "Radio in our location," you murmur, moving towards the building. "Where are you going?" "To check the building." Thankfully, he doesn't move to stop you. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $leader is "Zihr">>If you can't go off alone then at least you're fine with being partnered up with Ne0. Unless you initiate the conversation, you doubt Ne0 will say anything to you.<<else>>Having Ne0 join you is an all around win, especially if you feel like maintaining silence.<</if>> While Zihr and Checl head right, you go left. The streets are quiet, and the inhabitants keep an eye on you while maintaining their distance. Despite being a stranger, you're far too well-armed for any of them to take a chance on robbing you. That, and you're sure the hulking aiczeots and aberrant draqe by your side provide a further deterrent. Interestingly enough, you haven't spent a lot of time in areas like this. Most of the hits you received from the Dinami were big name criminals and politicians. Those whose absence would be felt or whose death would be well received due to the hierarchy of the ever-continuing power struggle. Make sense, though. The Dinami are not cheap. No one pays thousands or millions of solars to remove a mere nuisance. [[Ask Ne0 how it feels about the scrimmage.|6.14FeelingsScrimmage][$ne0 +=5]] [[Maintain the silence.|6.14MaintainSilence][$ne0 -=5]]
"Ne0," you start, and though it does not answer, it turns its head to show that it is listening. "What are your thoughts on what happened in the scrimmage." "Secured victory." You frown. "I mean, give an assessment." "Subject? "Me." "Sound plan. Adequate execution. Poor communication." [[“Whoa. Adequate execution?”|6.14Adequate]] [[“Poor communication?”|6.14PoorComm]]
"Whoa. Hold up. Adequate execution? What does that mean?" "Acceptable within parameters. Past analysis. Identified discrepancies." "Past analysis. You didn't log them?" "Negative." "Next time can you?" "Affirmative." You nod your thanks. <<include "6.14Ne02">>
"Poor communication?" "Technically. No communication." You can't really get upset about that one. "And does that bother you?" "No." "Is this because, as a draqe, you don't have any emotions and feelings or because it really doesn't bother you." "Mutually inclusive." "Ah," you hum, allowing the conversation to peter out from there. <<include "6.14Ne02">>
Your previous train of thought brings up the problem that has quieted itself but has never truly disappeared. A hit was a hit. The end result is always death. After your preliminaries were finished and your superiors figured out where they wished to place you, you were trained to kill. You know how to maim, but that was a secondary option even then. Go for the throat, the spine, the brain, and the heart. Aim for the arteries, for the major organs, or at the very least, remove enough limbs so blood loss becomes the primary issue. Since agreeing to commit to this bounty hunter idea, that clamant issue has grown louder and louder. Now, you're forced to face it. $hound chirps, grabbing and keeping your attention as he trots over to a trashcan and sniffs at it. It's at least nice to see him enjoying himself, having a prolonged time out of the room, and especially away from his muzzle. The problems are still there, each and every one of them. But you force yourself to focus on your current mission. <<include "6.14Ne02">>
Clearing another street, you turn the corner only to freeze at the figure a couple of yards ahead of you across the street. You watch as your bounty enters one of the less rundown buildings around. "You saw what I saw, Ne0?" "Affirmative. Radio?" "Yea, you send the coordinates." You venture closer, hoping to case the place before the others make it to you. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The streets are quiet, and the inhabitants keep an eye on you while maintaining their distance. Despite being a stranger, you're far too well-armed for any of them to take a chance on robbing you. That, and you're sure the hulking aiczeots by your side provide a further deterrent. Interestingly enough, you haven't spent a lot of time in areas like this. Most of the hits you received from the Dinami were big name criminals and politicians. Those whose absence would be felt or whose death would be well received due to the hierarchy of the ever-continuing power struggle. Make sense, though. The Dinami are not cheap. No one pays thousands or millions of solars to remove a mere nuisance. That train of thought brings up the problem that has quieted itself but has never truly disappeared. A hit was a hit. The end result is always death. After your preliminaries were finished and your superiors figured out where they wished to place you, you were trained to kill. You know how to maim, but that was a secondary option even then. Go for the throat, the spine, the brain, and the heart. Aim for the arteries, for the major organs, or at the very least, remove enough limbs so blood loss becomes the primary issue. Since agreeing to commit to this bounty hunter idea, that clamant issue has grown louder and louder. Now, you're forced to face it. <a data-passage="6.14Lone2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
$hound chirps, grabbing and keeping your attention as he trots over to a trashcan and sniffs at it. It's at least nice to see him enjoying himself, having a prolonged time out of the room, and especially away from his muzzle. The problems are still there, each and every one of them. But you force yourself to focus on your current mission. Clearing another street, you turn the corner only to freeze at the figure a couple of yards ahead of you across the street. You watch as your bounty enters one of the less rundown buildings around. "Bounty found," you radio in, "sending coords." You venture closer, hoping to case the place before the others make it to you. <a data-passage="6.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The windows are boarded up, and there's no ladder or platform to make ascending the building easy. Rounding the building, you attempt to spot anything that can be used as an exit, finding only one at the back. The buildings are too far apart for someone not confident in their skills. Nothing in the dossier said anything about the guy's agility, but you surmise he won't try it. And yet, you still mark the ceiling as a possible exit. The others are in front when you return. "Three possible exits in total. Unless there's some underground tunnels that I don't know about." "Moment," Ne0 voices, standing completely still and looking straight ahead. "Survey complete. No underground tunnels located." You could have really used an aberrant draqe back during your Dinami days. <<if $leader is "Zihr">>\ <<if $cp>>\ "Should be simple," Zihr remarks. "I'll enter with Ne0. Checl and $name, both of you watch the exits." [[Disagree.|6.15Disagree][$checl -=3; $zihr +=3]] [[Agree.|6.15Agree][$checl +=3; $zihr -=3; $bounty1 to "dead"]] <<else>>\ "Should be simple," Zihr remarks. "I'll enter alone. Ne0 and $name the two of you will cover the exits." Sounds like a good enough plan. He enters, and you leave Ne0 to go to the back exit. From there, you can also keep an eye on the roof as the gap you'll be under will be the one he'll try to clear. <a data-passage="6.16.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "I'll stay out here with Ne0 and watch both exits. <<if $cp>>Checl and Zihr, you go inside and get our bounty.<<else>>Zihr, you go inside and get our bounty.<</if>>" They nod and do as you say, and you almost want to pat yourself on the back. Handing out assignments instead of doing it yourself to ensure it's done right took a lot of willpower. Now, they need to prove you weren't wrong to fight your instincts. As <<if $cp>>the two of them enter<<else>>Zihr enters<</if>>, you leave Ne0 to go to the back exit. From there, you can also keep an eye on the roof, as the gap you'll be under will be the one he'll try to clear. <a data-passage="6.16.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Not to be //that// person, but wouldn't it be wiser to leave Ne0 out here with me to watch the front or back exit? No offense to Checl, but she'll be alone, and if the raza comes at her, I doubt she'll be able to stop him." Checl looks less than pleased that you reminded her of this but otherwise remains silent. The truth is that you have a point, and until Checl advances in both gun and self-defense training, she's the weak link. "Fine," Zihr growls, not waiting for Checl to follow him. You snort; the best way to piss off two people in one statement, it seems. The two of them enter, and you leave Ne0 to go to the back exit. From there, you can also keep an eye on the roof, as the gap you'll be under will be the one he'll try to clear. <<include "6.16.1">>
You aren't sure how smart it is to leave Checl at an exit alone, but you don't feel like arguing. Checl has gone through some training; perhaps she'll shock you. Better yet, if the bounty does get lucky enough to make it to the exit, it'll be the one you're waiting at. <<include "6.16.1">>
Patience has never been your strong suit, not in the past and certainly not in the present. You have practiced it but a few minutes has always felt more like hours. Even worse, this situation doesn't rest entirely on your shoulders. You're hoping that teammates manage and waiting for others has always been far worse. <<if $bounty1 is "alive">>\ "We got him," Zihr yells, his voice sounding like he is still inside. You walk back to the front, finding the man trying to get free, but Zihr's grip is unyielding. "Call in the Nightwalkers for a transport -," you start, the words dying as a gun goes off and the building right next to you is pelted with rounds. Using the distraction, the raza elbows Zihr in the stomach before sprinting down the street. "$hound," you bark, whistling and gesturing at the runaway as the others take cover in the building. <<else>>\ "Heads up!" Zihr yells, his voice sounding like he is still inside. You can already foresee what's about to happen and waste no time heading back toward the front of the building. As you guessed, you see Checl holding her face and the target making a run for it. Sending $hound will be fast, but he's just as likely to kill him as you are. "Fuck it," you growl, grabbing your <<if $w_secondary is "grenades">>gun.<<else>>$w_secondary.<</if>> The most you can hope is that you don't kill him. <<if $w_secondary is "pistol" or $w_primary is "pistol">>You quickly aim him down and then take the shot. You aim for the leg, near his knee, to keep him from running and hope that the shock won't finish him off. He falls, yelling out in pain. At least he didn't die on impact.<<elseif $w_secondary is "knife">>You take a deep breath in, remembering the technique of knife throwing. You've never been particularly good at it, but you wouldn't claim to be horrible, either. You've found that the distance is the main factor. Hopefully, he's not far enough. You throw the knife and watch as he falls, clutching at his back where your knife has embedded itself.<<else>>Shooting him with anything besides a pistol is just asking for death, but you really don't have time. If he gets away, you won't get the bounty. If you kill him, you won't get the bounty. But only one of those options actually gives even the slightest chance. You take the shot. Next, you hear him scream, but at least he's still making noise as he hits the ground, clutching his leg.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.16.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $bounty1 is "alive">>\ "We need him alive," Zihr reminds. Yea, that'll be an issue. $hound, similar to you, doesn't really know how to do that. You take off after him, pushing the shooter to the edge of your mind. You don't have time to check to see who it is and where they are. Hopefully, the others can deal with them. You hear a pained scream and follow it down an alley and around a corner to see $hound's teeth sunk deep into the man's leg. You command him to stop, rushing up to the duo as you look to see how nasty the wound is. <<if $medical >=5>>There are deep lesions from where $hound's teeth easily ripped into flesh and dug deep. Since you're here to stop it, he'll probably live. But first things first, you need to stop the bleeding.<</if>> <<if $medical >=5>>\ Having nothing on hand, you take the man's shirt, wrap it around his leg, and apply pressure for a few minutes before sorting through your pack for bandages. By then, the others have arrived. "Anything we can do?" Zihr questions, but you wave him off. "I'll need Ne0 to pick him up after this, but I got it." You wrap the bandage around as tightly as possible and then cut it, taking a step back. Hopefully, the man doesn't die. You could use that bounty money, maybe even buy an actual first aid kit. Ne0 picks up the currently unconscious raza, and the <<if $cp>>four<<else>>three<</if>> of you head back to the main street. "We already called for the transport," Zihr tells you, "let's hope he survives by the time they get here." <<else>>\ <<if $humor >=50>>"Hey, I have an idea," you snort as you reach in your pack for some bandages, "how about you try running again."<<else>>"Next time, just accept that you're caught," you grumble as you reach into your pack for some bandages."<</if>> "Fuck you." He tries to kick you with his good leg, screaming when $hound lets out a warning hiss. Despite not trying that again, he still thrashes, making applying any kind of first aid difficult. You wait until he calms down, not out of choice but simply due to the amount of blood he is losing. You can see him lose his grip on consciousness, trying to stay awake, but it sinks its claws deeper each time until no amount of fighting will help him. You wrap up his leg with the bandage, eyeing it in doubt as the blood wastes no time dyeing the once-white cloth red. "I'm not cut out for this shit," you mumble, hearing someone shout your name. "Anything we can do?" Zihr questions, the first to reach you. "Knock yourself out," you say, moving out of the way. "I'm sure you can't do any worse than me." "I'm not so confident in my abilities either." He looks at Ne0. "Just pick him up and get him to the transport." Ne0 does as he's asked, carrying the unconscious raza out of the alley and back to the main street as you follow. "Let's hope he survives by the time they get here." <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You and the others crowd around him, <<if $w_secondary is "knife">>and though you know you should leave it, you pull the knife out of his back.<<else>>all three of you glancing over at Checl to see if she is okay.<</if>> "Alright," Zihr hums, nodding down at the injured raza, "let's call the Nightwalkers to get a -" The words die as a gun goes off, and the building is pelted with rounds. You all head for cover, hoping that whoever is shooting has targeted you and not the bounty that you have left out on the street. Finally, the commotion dies down, and you manage to look out and check on the bounty. A large blood puddle and no sign of movement tell you all you need to know. "How is he?" Zihr inquires, and you answer him with a look. "Fuck!" Zihr shouts. Ne0 is the first to leave cover, motioning for the rest of you to stay put as it checks to ensure it is safe. Once it gives you the all-clear, you all approach the now-dead bounty. You're unsure if you can blame yourself. If you let him run, he'd be alive, but what good would that do you? <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.16.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Incoming alert," Ne0 declares, joined by $hound letting out a warning hiss. The <<if $cp>>three of you<<else>>both of you<</if>> look to see a bike speeding right towards you, showing no sight of braking or swerving. [[Stay where you are.|6.15Mind][$mind +=2]] [[Make sure the others are safe.|6.15Heart][$heart +=2]] [[Move.|6.15Gut][$gut +=2]]
You don't move an inch, physically daring the rider to run you over. There is no pause, no hint of doubt in their actions as they come closer. At the last moment, they turn every so slightly to avoid you, but they are still so close—so close, in fact, that when they speed by, you almost think you see who rests behind the dark-tinged helmet. Of course, you have no actual idea due to the tint, but … your frown deepens, and your heart feels as if it stutters. They turn the bike, and it feels like they're staring at you. A nauseating feeling surfaces, one that is accompanied by a voice—that is most surely yours—telling you to investigate. The bike and how they ride it, the caution thrown to the wind and how they behave … That voice intensifies when the rider revs the engine and vanishes over a hill. You make up your mind. <<include "6.16">>
Your first thought is to ensure <<if $cp>>Checl is safe. Despite the woman's great agility, her reaction times leave much to be desired. She is moving but seems unsure of which direction she should go as if the idea of committing to one is the worst decision she could possibly make. Grumbling, you reach out and grab her, yanking her to the side, narrowly avoiding the rider.<<else>>Zihr and Ne0 are safe. Ne0 has long since stepped out of the way, appearing ready to repeat movements if the rider chooses to veer too close. Zihr, on the other hand, reminds you of someone with a death wish. His gun is drawn, but he shows no wish of using it, only hoping to deter the nearing rider. With a growl, you grab the back of his bandana and yank him to the side and out of the rider's way as they shoot past.<</if>> <<if $cp>>\ "They could have killed us," Checl points out breathlessly. "I don't think that was their goal," you mumble, leaving her side as you walk a few steps away, staring at the intruder. <<else>>\ "I had that in order." "Sure you did. One day, you'll just say thank you, and that'll be the end of it." "They weren't going to run me over." "I agree. But I don't think standing there like a dumbass was very safe either," you mumble, leaving his side as you walk a few steps away, staring at the intruder. <</if>>\ "How would you know?" You do not answer. They turn the bike, and it feels like they're staring at you. A nauseating feeling surfaces, one that is accompanied by a voice—that is most surely yours—telling you to investigate. The bike and how they ride it, the caution thrown to the wind and how they behave … That voice intensifies when the rider revs the engine and vanishes over a hill. You make up your mind. <<include "6.16">>
You dodge out of the way along with the others, watching as the rider speeds off a short distance away. They turn the bike, and it feels like they're staring at you. A nauseating feeling surfaces, one that is accompanied by a voice—that is most surely yours—telling you to investigate. The bike and how they ride it, the caution thrown to the wind and how they behave … That voice intensifies when the rider revs the engine and vanishes over a hill. You make up your mind. <<include "6.16">>
<<if $bounty1 is "alive">>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Your first hunt went exceptionally well.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Your first hunt did not end so well.<</notify>><</if>>\ <</if>>\ "I'll go after them. <<if $bounty1 is "alive">>Focus on the bounty<<else>>Report the bounty's status to the Nightwalkers<</if>>," you yell over your shoulder, darting toward the retreating bike. Your heart feels as if it is beating in your ears now, and though your legs continue on their way, you ponder when you will fall from the constant shivering. That figure … no. You chase the thought away and continue to the edge of the crystal-lined hill until you find yourself on a cliff. The plateau is sparse, the large gems having chosen to retreat back at the midway part of the hill. In the distance, you can see the city, noting just how far away it appears. There is a touch of peace up here, one that threatens to make you forget just why you came up here in the first place. The bulk of Tebriri and its sectors may not remind you of the Spires, but this area does. Nothing but clay colored sand and shimmering, prismatic crystals. All that is missing are the mountainous stalagmite rock formations that give the Spires its name. $hound comes and sits by your side, appearing to also take in the view. Perhaps, in a way, he is. <a data-passage="6.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And there ?he is." Your blood runs cold as you stand there frozen. A part of you is screaming for you to turn around and give the new figure hell. To take an entire year of pain and frustration out on them—him. That reminder and warning hiss from $hound finally breaks some of your shock, and you turn to face the voice. Tsering has hardly changed. New attire is all you can visibly see. But his physical changes aren't what concerns you anyway. The fact that he's alive tells you all that you need to know about what the Dinami decided his punishment would be. What you //are// concerned with are the changes you cannot see—his emotional and mental ones. You never learned what pushed him to betray you that day, whether it was an outside force or something far closer, a resentment that you happened to overlook. At the moment, it doesn't seem to matter much. He walks towards you with a certain swagger that causes your upper lip to tremble in disgust. [[See what he does.|6.17SeeWhatHeDoes]] [[Regain control of this situation.|6.17RegainControl]] [[Punch him.|6.17PunchHim]] <<if $shotme>>\ [[Shoot him in the leg.|6.17ShootHim]] <</if>>\
Despite your entire body wishing to jump forward and attack, you stay where you are, ordering $hound to do the same. Again, a year has passed. The person in front of you may resemble Tsering, but that may be where the familiarities end. He certainly isn't the person you knew when he helped you off the plane. You don't know what he may be thinking or what he will do. "Calm yourself," he chuckles, but his insouciant behavior only furthers the stiffness that besets your muscles. <<include "6.18">>
It matters little how you feel about his sudden appearance. Unless you want him to lead this conversation, then it would only be wise for you to take charge. "I suppose it only makes sense for you to show your face because why would my first hunt be a simple one." "Perhaps I came to wish you luck in your new endeavors." <<include "6.18">>
"Well, $name -" Is all Tsering manages to get out before you lunge forward. Where there was once a vetix, the space now stands empty, and you are hardly fast enough to avoid the full brunt of his kick. You swat his leg away but not without stumbling backward, and this time, you are not as lucky. He manages to land a few punches. Punches that you notice feel more like friendly taps. So, he is holding back. Not only are you too slow to successfully avoid him, let alone fight and hope to win, but he isn't even trying. The speed and amount of anger that takes hold of you makes you feel irascible with no true outlet. "Calm down," Tsering barks, pushing you back as he takes out his gun and points it at $hound, who prepares to pounce. "Order him to cease." At first, you don't hear him. Your eyes are trained on the same gun that he used a year ago. The same weapon that killed so many people and with such precision … you growl in disgust, commanding $hound to stop any attack. "Nice aiczeots," Tsering compliments, the darkness of his eyes lightening. "I did not come here to fight. Though, I can't say that I wasn't curious." <<include "6.18">>
"Well, $name -" Is all Tsering manages to get out before you whip out your gun and send a shot right toward his leg. He drops to his knee, and you find yourself reasonably unimpressed by his chuckling. Part of you even wants to shoot his other leg to see if he'll still be chuckling after that. "Guess that answers the questions about whether or not you're still pissed." <<if $humor >=50>>"No, you got it all wrong. This is my contemplation face. I'm contemplating whether or not I'll bury another one in your skull."<<else>>"Stop talking. The more I hear your voice, the more eager I am to bury another bullet in your skull."<</if>> "Oof," he grunts playfully, getting up as if you hadn't just shot him. Judging by the lack of blood amassing around the point of impact, you suppose you haven't. "How I've missed your threats." You prime your gun, rolling your eyes as he barks out another laugh. "Forgotten what shields are, or are you just that eager to shoot me again?" You lower the gun, refusing to point out that you were far too trigger-happy to even consider the fact that he probably had a shield in place. <<include "6.18">>
"So, you've been following me?" "It's not that hard. You would be dead already if you were defenseless prey on a hunt. Our Zeot Hunters would believe you a waste of a day." He says that and looks over at $hound, silently appraising him. "I do. Not. Care," you shout, unable to contain the rage burning within. Tsering's face screams that he knows, and the more you stare at him, the more you wish to beat his face in with the butt of your weapon. Or your fist. If only that wouldn't completely mess up your hands. <a data-passage="6.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Did you shoot at us?" "No." "And I should believe you?" "No, you should believe my aim." He wiggles his gun in the air. "Not actually the kind of gun to release a spray." That, you can't argue against. "The Dinami sent you?" He hums as he walks to the cliff's edge, glancing down before looking over at you. "Don't ask questions you know the answer to. It's a waste of both of our time." "So what bullshit story did you feed them? I killed everyone and you just had a lucky break and got me before I got you?" "Give me credit," he growls, though you have known him long enough to know that it is a friendly one. A low and deep purr that reminds you of $hound, now that you think about it. "I am far more creative than that." "So, indeed, a bullshit story. How did you even find me? How did //they// find me?" "Do you not realize that they've had eyes on you since you hacked the terminal? From there, they followed your path to being arrested since the entire galaxy was made aware of that. I do recall them being mildly surprised when they sent interrogators to the prison and found you weren't there. They were ready to pay a hefty fund to get you transferred into their custody. Instead, they interrogated the Dinami there and learned you went to take the bounty hunter trials. And everything else should be clear, seeing that the Nightwalker database is public information." <a data-passage="6.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Doesn't answer how you tracked me on a hunt. I could be on one of a dozen of them." "Come on, $name, you haven't been away that long, and obviously, that fall didn't give you amnesia. You know the Dinami have ears everywhere. In all organizations." This news doesn't surprise you, but it does disturb you. How long until the others learn who Tsering is and why he is after you? How long until you kill him or he manages to take you in? And then what? How many more will they send to capture you, not out of curiosity but out of pride and the illusion of ownership? "What are you doing here, Tsering?" <<if hasVisited("0.8Destiny") and $tserRoPo >=1>>\ "What I want and what I am here for are two completely different things." He looks at you, and you can see that familiar saturation lighting up his eyes. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Stay where you are.|6.20Stay][$tserRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Stay where you are.|6.20Stay][$tserRoPo +=1]]<</if>> [[Move away.|6.20Move]] <<else>>\ "I thought that was obvious. What isn't obvious is why //you're// out here." "I thought it was obvious," you mimic. <<include "6.21">> <</if>>\
You remain still, meeting his gaze and refusing to budge as he looms closer. For a single minute, it feels like the past year never happened. You are back on your favorite rooftop, looking up at a spectacular sky with Tsering beside you, making ridiculous jokes about each other's species. His hand reaches for your face, though it never makes contact, and he whispers, "I still remember that kiss." Your heart shifts, and suddenly, it feels like everything is closing in around you—that familiar hand so close. All you have to do is move your face an inch to the right, and it'll rest against your cheek. You are equal parts mystified and intrigued. <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[For just a moment …|6.20AFleetingMoment][$tserRo -=5]]<<else>>[[For just a moment …|6.20AFleetingMoment][$tserRo -=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Grab it.|6.20GetThatShitOuttaHere][$tserRo +=5]]<<else>>[[Grab it.|6.20GetThatShitOuttaHere][$tserRo +=5]]<</if>>
You savor the feel for just a moment, an infinitesimal moment that will no doubt last less than a mere blink. You shut your mind off to the reminders of what happened a year ago. Of what you allowed to happen that changed the course of your life for the third time. You allow all of it to pass by so that you can enjoy a touch. It matters not who the bearer is; it is just that their touch brings with it a moment of peace. Or maybe it does. Perhaps the serenity felt is due to it being Tsering and no one else. A figure—even if he did betray you in the end—that knows you better than anyone else. For only a moment. You take a step back in disgust, though you fail to understand whether it is geared more towards you or him. If Tsering is bothered by the interrupted moment, he shows no sign of it—something that doesn't shock you. He's always been exceptional at hiding his emotions, though after years of companionship, he had no need to hide them from you. Or so you thought. <<include "6.21">>
Your hand lashes out, seizing his before his claws can meet your face, if that was even his goal. You clench his fingers in your hand, tightening your grip as you glare at him. "Don't touch me." "You'd rather touch me instead? Or was I just going to slow for your pace?" "Don't speak as if we're friends." "No," he whispers, enclosing his fingers around your hand, "we had the potential to be far more." You snatch your hand away, hating how much his words cause your heart to feel as if it is skipping. If Tsering is bothered by the interrupted moment, he shows no sign of it. Something that doesn't shock you. He's always been exceptional at hiding his emotions, though after years of companionship, he had no need to hide them from you. Or so you thought. <<include "6.21">>
You move away, part of you wishing to look over your shoulder to see his face, but a larger part does not care. A year. A year because he refused to tell you what was going on if there was anything to tell in the first place. The thought has always been there, rattling away in your mind and refusing to depart. But part of you has always hoped it wasn't the case. That something else has transpired, causing him to throw away your trust. Ugh. The thought of giving such a valued thing away makes you want to scream. <<include "6.21">>
"But a bounty hunter?" he questions, leaning on the side of his Prowler. His bottom row of eyes shuts as he shakes his head. "How is that even working out with your training?" "A kill is a kill." "Spout that shit to anyone else. We both know that's not true." He sneers. "<<if $bounty1 is "alive">>Especially when you took that raza in alive.<<else>>Or maybe you're right. You did practically kill your bounty.<</if>>" "Why are you standing here talking to me? Do what you came here to do, Tsering." Before either of you can do anything more, movement causes you to glance at those coming up the hill. It seems the rest of your team has finally caught up. You stiffen as Zihr approaches slowly, his eyes going from you to the unknown vetix. Only when Zihr catches sight of the bike and the helmet resting on the rear does he bring out his own weapon. "Oh, this'll be fun," Tsering smirks, approaching Zihr as if his previous position failed to provide a good enough target. [[“I'm the only one who can shoot him.”|6.21ShootHimMe]] [[“Put that away.”|6.21PutItAway]] [[“Tsering. Don't.”|6.21TseringDont]] [[Do nothing.|6.21DoNothing]]
"Hey!" you shout, placing yourself in the middle. "If anyone's shooting him, it's going to be me." "Then do it." "Don't concern yourself in matters that you don't understand." <<include "6.22">>
"Put that away, Zihr." "Is this not the person who almost ran us over earlier? I can bet that he's the one who was shooting at us too." Tsering releases a deep chuckle. "If I was shooting at you, you wouldn't be here right now." "Check your aim next time." "Offering to be target practice?" Tsering grins, looking Zihr up and down before producing a low and dissatisfied laugh. <<include "6.22">>
"Tsering. Don't." "I'm just giving the boy a free shot. Better make it count, too." "I apologize. I forget how stupid you are. Zihr. Don't." "I'm finding it hard not to take him up on that offer," Zihr growls. <<if $cp>>You're almost tempted to glare at Checl, but fight the impulse.<</if>> <<include "6.22">>
Though you're not entirely sure what Zihr will do, you are confident that Tsering will keep his hands to himself. A frown appears as your mind reminds you that you do not know the vetix like you thought. Still … you remain silent as the two glare at one another. "I'll give you one chance to surrender," Zihr informs. "I won't give another." <<include "6.22">>
"Needing raza to protect you now?" he questions, barely concealing the doubt in his tone. "Don't fucking start with me. I'd advise you to leave before I shoot your engine out and you find yourself stranded on this summit." "Stranded?" Zihr huffs, "We're taking him in." "The quarry has some teeth." Tsering straightens, hardly having much in terms of height on Zihr but dwarfing the raza nonetheless. "Too bad they're still just erupting." You have barely opened your mouth to warn both men to back off when Zihr throws the first punch. Tsering dodges it with ease, repositioning himself to the left of Zihr and bringing his knee to Zihr's stomach. Zihr doubles over, about to straighten, but finds he's too slow as Tsering uppercuts him. [[Stop them.|6.22Stop][$approach +=5; $view +=3]] [[Let them fight.|6.22FightNight][$approach -=5; $view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++ | Zealous ++</span><</if>> "For fucks sake," you growl, trying to dodge the flying limbs. Both of them land a few hits on you before you finally break them apart. You'd punch both if it wasn't for your lack of patience and severe want for the fighting to end. In fact … you push the thought from your mind before you deliver on such desirable promises. "Are you done?" Before either can speak, you hold up an irritated hand. "I don't care about your reasons, excuses, or anything, really. There's nothing left to say. Leave." <<include "6.23">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++ | Jaded ++</span><</if>> You already know who will win; //he// just doesn't know yet. You head further up the hill, sliding your attention over to $hound who has long since taken to lying down since you initially told him to calm down. You're at least happy this hunt happened when it did, allowing you to take him out for an extensive workout and not just some jog where he's forced to wear a muzzle. Perhaps you'll bring him out here from now on. It's a shady neighborhood, but the two of you should dissuade anyone from attacking, and no one will report a hound; they had more pressing matters. After thinking it through and deciding to try that course, you glance at the two guys and the already-proclaimed victor. Technically, Zihr never had a chance. Only speed is on his side and even that is not something he can truly count on due to Tsering being of the Askax race. At the moment, Tsering has Zihr on his ass, a boot on his throat as Zihr thrashes and tries to throw him off in meaningless struggle. "He gets the point, Tsering," you growl, wishing to move this irksome reunion on. "There's nothing left to say. Go." <<include "6.23">>
"This won't be the last time we meet," he informs, finally taking his gaze off Zihr. "You know that, right?" "So what was this? A warning?" He shrugs. "A courtesy. <<if $tserRo >=1>>And I must say, I was impatient and wanted to see you." He smirks at the thought before turning to approach his bike.<</if>> <<if $tserRo >=1>>\ "I could've killed you." "But you didn't," he reminds, wagging his finger. <<else>>\ "Wow. Wish you would've given me one of those before you pushed me out of a fucking plane." He smirks, one so annoying that you must fight the itch to not slap it off his face. "Next time," you say, meaning every word about to be muttered, "there's a good chance I'll kill you." "Promises, promises," he laughs, wagging his finger as he treks back to his bike. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.24"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $zihrRo >=1>>"It's not too late," Zihr interjects, stepping closer so that he now stands by your side, angled as if to protect you from Tsering. <<if $tserRo >=1>>You notice the vetix stiffen, all four eyes not only darkening but narrowing as he reanalyzes whatever he believes is going on. Catching your eye, he seems to relax just enough to play off whatever plagues his mind.<</if>><<else>>"It's not too late," Zihr interjects.<</if>> "Zihr," you start, cooling your surly mood. "Go make sure <<if $bounty1 is "alive">>Ne0 still has the bounty in custody and doesn't need help.<<else>>the Nightwalkers know about what happened with the bounty.<</if>>" "Let me guess, you have this under control?" "<<if $cp and $humor >=50>>Wow, and Checl dares say that you're totally hopeless." He frowns, throwing a glance at the zeach, who hasn't said a word since appearing alongside him. Her eyes widen, but you move your<<elseif $humor >=50 and $cp is false>>And here I thought that you couldn't be helped." He rolls his eyes, but thankfully, he does what you suggest. You shift your<<else>>I do." The two of you stare at each other for a moment longer before Zihr finally turns his back and leaves. You shift your<</if>> attention back to Tsering, who seems to have grown as bored with the conversation as you. "I'm serious," he warns, noticing your attention is back on him. He fastens on the helmet and takes a seat on the bike. "About to warn me again about what our next meeting will be like?" His modulated voice fills your ears. "No. About seeing you." "We're not friends, Tsering. You call this meeting a courtesy, and I agree. Next time, I won't just let you get on your bike and ride away." He laughs, throwing his head back as he revs the vehicle. "That's what I like to hear." And with that, he zooms off. You watch him with mixed emotions. A thousand scenarios played out in your mind after you found yourself confined to the Outlands, scenarios detailing what you would say and do the next time you saw the purple-eyed vetix. [[Many of them revolved around forgiveness.|6.24Forgiveness][$light +=5]] [[Many contained interesting forms of torture.|6.24Torture][$dark +=5]] [[There was a mix, one feeling never outdoing the other.|6.24Both]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> A year has given you time to think, and though you swore never to make the same mistake again, you have also decided that the best course is to move on. Otherwise, you're sure you'll never move on, even after doing to Tsering what you believe he deserves. You are unsure if his betrayal is a blessing or a curse. A reminder of who you need to be in this world or a slap for ever thinking that you could have a friend. Your thoughts shift to the day you met him, and if that was anything to go off of, then perhaps you should have heeded what he said. <<include "6.25">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> If the Dinami knows anything, it's torture. After being on the rack for as many years as you have, a few ideas arise concerning what you would do to the vetix. Your thoughts had to get creative; otherwise, you'd just be copying the Dinami. And you can't have that. You are unsure if his betrayal is a blessing or a curse. A reminder of who you need to be in this world or a slap for ever thinking that you could have a friend. Your thoughts shift to the day you met him, and if that was anything to go off of, then perhaps you should have heeded what he said. <<include "6.25">>
There were an equal amount of scenarios dealing with forgiveness as there were those dealing with torture and significant amounts of screaming. Perhaps that is why this conversation did not bother you; you could have foretold it. Somewhere in all those scenarios, one similar to what happened here exists. You are unsure if his betrayal is a blessing or a curse. A reminder of who you need to be in this world or a slap for ever thinking that you could have a friend. Your thoughts shift to the day you met him, and if that was anything to go off of, then perhaps you should have heeded what he said. <<include "6.25">>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <span class ="flashback">You feel them before you see them. Something grips the back of your head and thrusts you forward, causing you to bang your forehead against the corner of the locker. Instinct tells you to take a knee and nurse the pounding headache before engaging with whoever has decided to assault you, but instinct is wrong. You push the headache to the side and turn, catching the wrist of the nearest person and slamming your elbow down on the crook of their arm. They let out a low hiss but otherwise seem resistant to whatever pain you caused. You aimed to break a bone; in reality, you probably just pissed them off. That at least narrows the list of suspected species. Another arm pulls you into a headlock as someone lands punch after punch on your face, as another lands them on your stomach. For all you know, it may be the same person. A few species have multiple arms to accomplish such a task. You are thrown to the side, crashing into the sink, and your head slapping against the mirror, breaking it from the sounds of it. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" someone hisses in your ear, their hand closing around your neck. You strike out blindly when they or another catch your wrist and pin it down to the ground. "I don't care what those fucked up markings on your body mean. You're trash just like any other terran who walks in here."</span> [[“But you couldn't fight me alone?”|6.25ScaryAss]] [[“Oh, would you shut up.”|6.25ShutUp]] [[Continue fighting.|6.25ContinueFighting]]
<span class ="flashback">"You say all this, but you didn't have the balls to fight me alone. I must be a pretty threatening pile of trash." Their grip around your throat tightens enough for you to find speaking difficult.</span> <<include "6.26.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"Oh, would you just shut the fuck up and do whatever you came here to do. Beat me within an inch of my life, or fuck off." Their grip around your throat tightens enough for you to find speaking difficult.</span> <<include "6.26.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You ignore them. It's nothing you haven't heard multiple times since receiving the markings. They just caught you off guard and at the wrong time.</span> <<include "6.26.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"I'll let you choose," they hiss. "Broken arm or shoulder?" "Both," their partner snorts, but you phase their little back and forth out, concentrating and looking for any opening. Then, suddenly, you hear a yelp, and the pressure on your wrist vanishes. "Wha-" the main voice questions, and you take advantage of the distraction to head-butt them. The grip against your throat loosens, and you land a punch to the side of their face. A raza, now that you're actually turned around and not having your head hitting various objects. They try to regain the upper hand, but there is little chance of that happening. You deliver punch after punch as they fall to the ground, able to do nothing more than protect their face. You're about to deliver another punch when you receive a kick in your shoulder. You fall off the raza, hearing the two of them stumble away as another set of footsteps come closer. You take a moment to center yourself before opening your eyes and spotting a smirking vetix crouched down next to you, his hand mere inches away as he offers it to you. "I didn't need your help," you mumble, ignoring him and his hand as you pick yourself off the ground. Your abilities have already begun to numb some pain, but that won't magically make the bruises disappear. Blood seeps down from what you suppose is a broken nose or forehead cut, and a cut along your shoulder refuses to reduce its blood flow. Even better, you're wearing white today. It seems another shirt was sentenced to the waste bins. "You think? Another five minutes, and you'd be a bleeding spot on the floor."</span> <a data-passage="6.26.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Fuck you and your help," you growl, gritting your teeth at how your muscles seem to moan. Harsh training followed by fighting off assailants fueled by envy leaves an individual with little residual energy. "Next time, just stay out of it." "I'd be called a sadist if I simply watched." "You'd also be minding your business. You may have just pissed them off more. Next time, there'll be more, and it won't just be some random locker brawl. I'll be fighting for my life." "Doubt it," he sneers, his eyes lightening as if he'd rather your words be true. His gaze shifts to you, "I'm the scariest thing in here." "You sure would give me nightmares," you murmur sarcastically, moving to a mirror to look yourself over. It's not as bad as you previously believed, but you'll receive even more looks. Or probably not. It was a matter of time before someone finally made a move. The thought causes you to pause, an abrupt realization striking you harder than your opponents ever did. As soon as this gets around, others will test you. You won't know a moment of peace. Your grip on the sink tightens, and the lack of solutions bothers you as you splash your face. Feeling a gaze on your back, you turn to see the vetix still standing where you left him, his eyes glimmering as if a million stars had entered them. You attempt to recall where you had seen him, knowing his face was somewhat familiar. "You waiting around for a thank you?" you grunt, splashing your face again. "I'd be standing here forever if so, don't you think?" He isn't wrong there. "Tell me, Moran, why do you think you are hated so?"</span> [[“My amazing good looks?”|6.25AmazingGoodLooks][$tser +=5]] [[“Don't know. Don't care.”|6.25DontKnowDontCare][$tser -=3]] [[Remain silent.|6.25RemainSilent][$tser -=5]]
<span class ="flashback">"I don't know," you snort, "maybe it's my amazing good looks." "I'll say," he sneers and though you're not sure if he's speaking sarcastically or not, you find yourself grinning.</span> <<include "6.26.3">>
<span class ="flashback">You shrug, flexing your back and regretting it. "I don't know, and I don't care. Go ask them for their shitty excuses."</span> <<include "6.26.3">>
<span class ="flashback">You don't answer, passing him a single look as you continue to try and clean yourself up.</span> <<include "6.26.3">>
<span class ="flashback">"It's because," he continues, breaking into a random locker and throwing a towel towards you. "You are cocky." "Don't put your traits on me," you huff. "I keep to myself, do what I'm told, and go on my way. That's it." He sneers. "You don't think that's cocky? Everyone sees a terran with strange markings come in and put even the veterans to shame in a matter of years." The word reminds you just who this is. Tsering Ar-Arsa… A something. You've seen him here and there, usually surrounded by the same people, but they are few in number. He isn't a veteran, but his skills put both of you on the same rising platform. One that rose fairly quickly with no time for others to get on and no signs of stopping but with all the risks of crumbling. "You're describing jealousy. Something else I have no power over." "You will not let me finish, will you?"</span> [[“You talk too much.”|6.25TalkTooMuch]] [[“No.”|6.25No]] [[“My bad, continue.”|6.25MyBad]]
<span class ="flashback">You wave his words away. "You talk too slow and too much. I'm beginning to think you like the sound of your own voice." He moves closer, only a few inches separating you. "I do. Many others do, too." That much you can at least understand. Vetix, as a species, all have reverberating voices that tend to command and grab a room's attention. All of them, females included, manage to have low, baritone-styled voices, and while some have far more guttural and gravelly voices, others have husky or even modulated ones. Tsering specifically has a cool, gravelly voice that one could find themselves listening to for minutes, perhaps even hours on end. But he doesn't need to know that; his crests are already far too large for his own head. "Fine. What is it then? What is it about me that gets everyone in such a huff?"</span> <<include "6.26.4">>
<span class ="flashback">"No." Is your simple response as you return to mitigating the numerous bruises and cuts. You'll have to accept the menagerie of wounds and be better prepared for others.</span> <<include "6.26.4">>
<span class ="flashback">"You're right, go ahead. Continue." He snorts, "I cannot tell if you're speaking sarcastically." "The world may never know," I smirk, but make a gesture for him to continue regardless.</span> <<include "6.26.4">>
<span class ="flashback">"You ever thought making friends may help?" "No," you snarl, moving to leave the room when he stops you. "Maybe you should consider it then." Your eyes meet his as they once again seem to sparkle with a million stars within. If this had been the first time you've met the species, you'd think they'd have been god-touched or ventured half the galaxy and swallowed every star just to have them reflect in their eyes. The sight is beautiful, especially the sea they wade in. A genuine purple tone that will only abandon such a title in response to his emotions.</span> <<if $flirt_tser>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Friends or something else?”|6.25SomethingMore][$tserRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Friends or something else?”|6.25SomethingMore][$tserRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<else>>\ [[“Trust me, you're not my type?”|6.25NotMyType]] <</if>>\ [[“Volunteering?”|6.25Volunteer]]
<span class ="flashback">"Are you just trying to be friends, or is there something else on your mind?" He hums, though it's far more guttural, and whereas anyone else may still sound friendly, he does not. "Friends, yes. Though," he gazes at you, "I would never say no to a pining." "Some weird vetix way of saying fucking?" "Some weird terran way of saying sex?"</span> <<include "6.26.5">>
<span class ="flashback">"Trust me," you snort, "you're not my type. At all." "Bad taste then?" he sneers and you roll your eyes. Great, he's probably one of //those// types. "You must think you're universally loved?" "No," he states, "only by those with good taste and who want the best for themselves." He laughs at his own words but tips his head to the side as if acknowledging something you never said. "But I understand. If only my crests were different." "If only," you mumble, snorting at the idea.</span> <<include "6.26.5">>
<span class ="flashback">"What, you want to volunteer?" "I thought that much would be obvious," he smirks, "I'm your number one fan."</span> <<include "6.26.5">>
<span class ="flashback">"You're not shy about speaking your thoughts, are you?" "Why should I? Those who hide their emotions are weak, fearful of even themselves." You nod your head at his earlier words. Maybe everyone is scared of him, or perhaps he's simply attempting to aggrandize his self-importance. Mostly, you don't care. "I know vetix show their emotions through their eyes," you remark, hearing him hum, "but yours look like they're growing magenta." He hums longer, the color not shifting as he regards you with a cock of his head. "Did you know in our primitive days, our eyes would turn a highly saturated color completely different from our natural tone when we had found our prey?" You snarl as you straighten up, readying yourself for another fight. "Keep speaking, vetix. We'll see who's the prey by the end of the day." He leans in with a wicked smirk. "I didn't specify what kind of prey I meant." He turns and walks away, but not before leaving with you his last words. "We're apex predators; everything is prey to us. Some just lead to a longer chase and a far worthier victory in the end."</span> <a data-passage="6.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> "Who was he?" You're startled by the voice, and you have to take a long look at your surroundings to remind yourself that you're not in some Dinami locker room but somewhere on Crion. "Does it matter?" Zihr moves to stand in front of you to make sure your attention is completely on him. "Yes." You study him for a moment longer but refuse to say. None of this is their business, even if they were present to see it. Giving the hill one last look, you head back to the car with the others and ride back to the headquarters. As soon as you enter the building, you walk off, leaving the others to mumble and speak about whatever they want. In part, you are. You drop $hound off at the room and feed him, wash up, get some food, and then head straight to Sin's office. You knock. "Sin, it's $name. I need to speak with you." <a data-passage="6.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
There is no pause. "Enter." Opening the door, you allow your eyes to adjust to the rush of color that Sin's office exhibits. Dozens of plants and vines are placed about, transforming the monochrome silvers and whites to little more than accents against the stark blues, greens, pinks, and oranges. The standard desk is present, along with two chairs, but everything else seems to have been replaced or converted into a surface for plants to adorn. A large dark green, woven rug resides in the middle, depicting a scene you doubt you will ever truly make out. Lines clearly meant to tell a picture are amalgamated with plants and symbols that mean nothing to you. It almost feels like you are scrutinizing a language similar to hieroglyphics, the big difference being that even those are a bit more native for you. This … it's beautiful but wild and disorienting to grapple with. "$name?" Sin asks, and you remove your gaze to settle it onto them. Up against their office, you notice how much they seem to fit in. Causing you to grow curious about their home planet and culture. But that can wait; you came on business. <<if $bounty1 is "alive">>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $solars +=150>><</nobr>>\ "Good job on the bounty. I trust you received your payment." "Uh, yea," you answer, about to bring up your terminal but deciding it would be wiser to not do that in front of them. <</if>>\ "I have a question for you." "Does it pertain to your hunt earlier? And the appearance of this mysterious vetix?" You catch yourself before rolling your eyes. You should have known the others wouldn't let you catch a break and leave Tsering out of their reports. "Yes." You raise your hand before they can question you further. "That is all you will get from me on that subject. Reread their reports if you are curious about the specifics because I won't add it to mine." They remain silent for a touch too long but then nod. "Continue." "Who has access to our hunts?" "All of the higher-ups, including your handler. Why the sudden curiosity?" "Would it be possible to shorten that list down to three?" "Including?" "Just you, the Supreme Commander, and Vittorio?" Sin steeples their fingers, eyes trained on you as if awaiting further reason on your part. When they do not receive one, they simply huff. "Answer me this. What will you do when everything comes to entwine you?" [[“Same thing I am doing now.”|6.27SameThingNow][$sin +=3]] [[“I find myself wondering the same thing.”|6.27WonderSameThing][$sin +=5]] <<if $flirt_sin>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“What will you do?”|6.27WillYouDo][$sinRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“What will you do?”|6.27WillYouDo][$sinRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Will you do it or not?”|6.27DoItOrNot][$sin -=5]]
"Probably the exact same thing that I am doing now." "And what is that?" "I'm winging it, making it up as I go, crossing my fingers, and hoping I roll double." "I suppose the last of that statement is related to your species? A game?" Sin questions. "Sure. Just tell me what the decision is when you get it." "Of course." You nod your thanks and rise, heading to the door to go about your business. <<include "6.28">>
"You know, I find myself asking the exact same thing all the time." "Has an answer arose?" "Never. I don't hold my breath for it any longer." Sin frowns, though you are not sure it is due to your words or the phrase that may only be common in the terran language. "Either way," you add, clearing your throat and tapping your thigh as you rise. "When you receive the Supreme Commander's answer, let me know." "Of course." You nod your thanks and head to the door to go about your business. <<include "6.28">>
"I am far more interested in what //you// will do when it happens." "Sounds like your priorities are in the wrong place," they tease, or at least you believe that is what they're doing. "You have been questioning me so much that I have grown interested in your reactions to even the tiniest amount of free information." "Ah, so you admit that you are now retaining information for entertainment?" "We all need our pastimes." Sin tilts their head back and lets out a spirited laugh that reminds you of the first time you've met them. Not because they laughed but because of the warmth that they exuded. You are once again reminded of the dangers of letting your defenses slip while around them. You always believed it to be something easily done but only now do you see how effortless it really is. You find yourself enjoying not only being in their presence but also having their attention. "I can think of far greater activities." You raise a delighted though curious brow. "Can you now? Enlighten me." "It is not what you probably are imagining." "And how would you know what I am imagining?" you question, cocking your head to the side. "I am almost sure that my thoughts are not what you think they are." They seem prepared to counter your words with yet another statement, but their mouth slowly close as they lean back in their seat and let out an acknowledging hum. "My apologies. You have proven me wrong on multiple things. I have no reason to believe this time is any different." "It would be easier if you told me what activities you are second-guessing." They smirk. "When you share a secret, I shall too. I find it highly unfair that you're the only one who can have them." You let out something that sounds more like a huff than a laugh but nod. "I will bring your concerns to the Supreme Commander and inform you of the decision after." You nod, thanking them before leaving their office behind. <a data-passage="6.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You meet their stare with one of your own. "Will you do as I requested or not?" <<if $nightwalkers <50>>\ "I will bring it up. You should already know that the Supreme Commander does not favor you in any way. This may just give her everything she needs to remove you." "So be it." You hide the fear that their words bring forth. They are speaking honestly, and it doesn't escape your notice that you are going straight to prison if you are let go. You're unsure if your sentence will remain the same or be extended, but that is not what truly bothers you. Tsering has already made it known that someone in the organization is watching you and reporting your movements back to the Dinami. If you are released, the only disappointed party will be Tsering who will no longer have a hunt on his hands. You'll be bought by the Dinami and shipped right into their clutches. No amount of planning or luck will see your way out of that one. <<if $open >=50>>\ "What do you think my chances are?" you question, causing Sin to pause their action. "Does it matter?" "It does. If you think it would be wiser for us to forget the last ten or so minutes, then so be it. Their eyes widen, and a part of you bristles at the thought of them seeing a weakness brought front and center to be scrutinized. "I will bring it up. Speaking on your behalf has done wonders for my persuasion skills." <<if $humor >=50>>\ You smirk, "glad I can help you with something." Sin lets out a phlegmatic chuckle, making you want to shift in discomfort. They rise, nodding to the door, and you understand and head out. <<else>>\ You do nothing more than nod your thanks and head towards the door. Part of you wishes to ask them how you will know what the decision ends up being, but you keep the thought to yourself. You suppose, at the very least, seeing Tsering again will be the answer. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ //So be it//, you think as you nod your thanks to Sin before taking your leave. Part of you wishes to ask them how you will know what the decision ends up being, but you keep the thought to yourself. You suppose, at the very least, seeing Tsering again will be the answer. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="6.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ "I will bring it up and inform you of her decision." You nod your thanks and head towards the door. <<include "6.28">> <</if>>\
The door has hardly had time to close behind you when Vittorio appears. He glances from you to the now-closed door and back. "I don't remember you bringing any issue to me, $name. All concerns and issues should go through me first, and I will bring it to the Commander if necessary." [[“Keep your panties dry.”|6.29PantiesDry][$humor +=5]] [[“Understood.”|6.29Understood][$humor -=5]] [[Keep walking.|6.29KeepWalking]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Oh, please," you start, failing to hide an annoyed expression, "keep your panties dry, Vittorio. I had no intention of undermining your job as our handler." "Then what did you need to talk to the Commander about?" "My bed squeaks when I move around." You attempt to move past him, but he seems to predict such behavior and smoothly blocks your path. "Any further issues go through me. Understand?" You don't bother confirming or disagreeing; instead, try to make it past him again. This time, he stays put, and you head away. <<include "6.29">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> You nod, "understood." "Thank you," he nods, and just like that, the pointless exchange is ended, and you are free to do as you wish. <<include "6.29">>
You raise a single brow, which is the only reaction Vittorio will get from you as you move past him and head down the hall. You await a shout, an order to stop, or a snarky comment. You're even prepared to let him win simply because you have no time nor any wish to say anything. He isn't on your radar, but he will be if he continues to get in your way. <<include "6.29">>
Though you have already washed up and settled $hound in, the last thing you want to do is stick around. The headquarters feels like it's suffocating you. The night is creeping in, and you want to see how bad running in that median strip will be. Grabbing $hound for the second time that day, the two of you get a driver to drop you off. You'll have to invest in a saddle if you want to ride him one of these days—that's if he'll allow it as well. Once you get to the familiar neighborhood, you find even fewer people now than before. Perhaps today's earlier disturbance ran them off, or maybe they're just getting drunk somewhere. You take $hound on another path, not wishing to retrace your earlier steps. <a data-passage="6.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You have hardly started when you pause, glancing over your shoulder. You hardly expect to see anyone, but the feeling that crawls over your skin makes you jerk around, narrowing your eyes on an otherwise scanty road. Hiding your searching gaze is pointless, so your eyes flash from one dark corner to the next. Ultimately, you're unsurprised to find nothing, but the feeling remains. Tsering has never been one for stealth, and after listening to what he had to say earlier, you doubt he would be watching you so closely. As he so loves to reiterate, his species is the apex predator of his world, evolution only accentuating such fact. All that to say, regardless of whether the Dinami sanctions it or not, he won't be able to forego the thrill of the chase. Another shiver courses down your spine as you spot a figure moving along a rooftop—or what you believe is a figure. Staring at the roof in question, you find nothing there. Perhaps it was shadows caused by a departing sun, but something deeper knows you are simply imagining lies to … To what? To feel as if all is fine? To distract you from Tsering's earlier appearance? You are not ready to face him or the Dinami, which brings into question what you are prepared for. The sound of a bottle breaking draws your attention to the alleyway you stand outside of. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>It's far too dark for you to make out anything and yet you can easily hear the shifting of feet. The sounds of someone who wishes to stay hidden yet hasn't mastered the art of stealth.<<else>>You can make out movement further down, but they're using the darkness and distance to their advantage. Or not so much, since the way the figure pushes themselves up against the wall informs you that they're attempting to be stealthy.<</if>> Not Tsering then. You wouldn't be surprised to learn that the Dinami sent another due to caution, probably without telling Tsering. You doubt they truly trust him, not after rising from the dead when Tsering probably told them you were taken care of. [[Approach them.|6.30Approach]] [[Leave.|6.30Leave]]
Curiosity gets your feet moving, but caution is the old friend who constantly stresses the importance of keeping your hand on the blade resting at your thigh. You travel closer and closer to the end of the alley until you reach the so-called sneaky shadow. Unfortunately, one nudge of your foot tells you all that you need to know. A drunk. "False alarm," you tell $hound, chuckling at how on edge you are. Tsering had the audacity to visit and warn you and has done nothing more than make you paranoid. Will every shadow now harbor an enemy needing to be felled? Turning to head back out of the alley, you are waylaid by a figure not behind you but above. They drop on top of you, knocking you face-first to the ground. You growl as you push yourself up, grabbing hold of your blade and twisting to meet your assailant. You hardly complete the turn when your hand is swatted away, a punch lands on your stomach, and then a chop to your neck. You can hear $hound growl, but the next sound is a gun going off and something rushing through the air, followed by $hound huffing in irritation. Using $hound's distraction to gain an upper hand you never had, you start to push yourself up, grabbing for your knife when a boot slams down on your fingers. You let out a tormented scream, gritting your teeth as years of training come back to you. The feeling of cold steel rests against your neck and you realize what may very well happen in the next few seconds. "You may wish to practice more," the voice informs you. They push the blade just a bit closer, enough to nick skin but nothing more and then walk towards the end of the alley. "Otherwise, this little hunt will be no fun at all." And as oddly as they appeared, they disappeared. Your heart thunders on as you bring your aching, partially numbed fingers closer to your chest, caressing them before remembering $hound. <a data-passage="6.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Whatever rests at the end of the alleyway has nothing to do with you, even if they wish for another outcome. Patting your thigh to gain $hound's attention, you continue on. You ponder if whoever is there will come chasing after you or attempt to follow you from afar. Thankfully, $hound is with you; he'll clue into a stalker faster than you. You safely clear a block with no feelings of being watched. After one last inconspicuous glance around, you surmise that whatever rested in that alley was simply a drunken casualty of the night. Or maybe a mugger waiting patiently for someone foolish to approach. If the latter is far more accurate, they should count themselves lucky that you minded your business and continued on. As you round a corner, you are blindsided by a rushing figure. Initially, you believe it to be a careless accident, and a list of feasible scenarios emerges. But when a punch successfully makes impact with your stomach you know you are wrong. You add space, hoping to spot your attacker, but they are already rushing to diminish that gap. You dodge a throw and reach for your blade just as they reach out and grab your hand, slamming their elbow down onto the crook of your arm. A rush of pain causes you to lean forward, and though you attempt to correct the instinctual action, it is expected. They chop you in the throat and kick your legs out from underneath you. You can hear $hound growl, but the next sound is a gun going off and something rushing through the air, followed by $hound huffing in irritation. Using $hound's distraction to gain an upper hand you never had, you start to push yourself up, grabbing for your knife when a boot slams down on your fingers. You let out a tormented scream, gritting your teeth as years of training come back to you. The feeling of cold steel rests against your neck and you realize what may very well happen in the next few seconds. "You may wish to practice more," the voice informs you. They push the blade just a bit closer, enough to nick skin but nothing more and then turns and heads back out of eyesight. "Otherwise, this little hunt will be no fun at all." And as oddly as they appeared, they disappeared. Your heart thunders on as you bring your aching, partially numbed fingers closer to your chest, caressing them before remembering $hound. <a data-passage="6.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Rushing to his side, you find him pinned down by a net and, upon closer inspection, find it to be some kind of modified polyethylene rope. You, yourself, have never dealt with the material, mostly because you never had much need for it. But you have heard and seen it in action. Your blade won't do any real damage, and even if it can, most of the fibers have an electric current to deter moving and handling. [[Cut it off.|6.31CutOff]] <<if $tech >=10>>\ [[Short out the circuit.|6.31ShortCircuit]] <</if>>\ <<if $smarts >=10>>\ [[Fiddle around with the rope.|6.31FiddleWithRope]] <</if>>\
You've done this with other things but never a net. In fact, the idea of shorting out something like this makes you want to raise a skeptical brow, but you have no time. The longer $hound is trapped, the more he will want to find his way out, bringing on nothing but an injury. //I'd hate to send both of us to the infirmary//, you think to yourself, disgusted by your still numb fingers. Focusing back on the task, you just need to apply an overvoltage in hopes it'll short-circuit. You bring up a standard program that allows you to fixate on specific electrical outputs and tweak them with the proper knowledge. Better mods will make the task easier and open up a range of solutions, but you no longer have those, something you hope to remedy soon. It takes a few minutes, far more than you like to admit, but you hear a hissing sound, and though $hound hisses at the pop caused by the short circuit, he is free nonetheless. Sighing, you rub the back of your neck and look back toward the direction in which the figure from earlier disappeared. <<if hasVisited("6.30Approach")>>They—quite literally—fell from the sky and decided to kick your ass before leaving.<<else>>You almost wish to say it was all a dream, but your fingers and the discarded net tell you otherwise. They came, they kicked your ass, and they left.<</if>> <a data-passage="6.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Indeed, you have never dealt with these types of ropes yourself, but that means right now would make for a great lesson. "This may take a while," you tell $hound, sitting beside him as you pull up multiple pages discussing the rope and begin to look it over. The moments your patience feels like it begins to wane, you remind yourself why you are doing this and focus back on what is being said. You need to absorb this information, to know it so that next time, this will not happen. By the end, you have gathered enough pointless trivia to bore even the most enthusiastic rope lovers but have also found a loophole. Though it will depend on the maker, most of the ropes have weaknesses that can be exploited. All you must do … is pick … the right … strand. Finding it, you cut it, and though it gives off a light burst of electricity, it unravels, letting you cut enough area away to free $hound. He huffs, shaking his massive body before stalking <<if hasVisited("6.30Approach")>>back towards the mouth of the alley<<else>>down the sidewalk<</if>>, obviously not wishing to stay any longer. You share the sentiment and rub the back of your neck while looking back in the direction the figure from earlier disappeared. <<if hasVisited("Approach Them")>>They—quite literally—fell from the sky and decided to kick your ass before leaving.<<else>>You almost wish to say it was all a dream, but your fingers and the discarded net tell you otherwise. They came, they kicked your ass, and they left.<</if>> <a data-passage="6.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're not knowledgeable enough to know how to short out the electricity and know of no other techniques. The longer you wait, the more $hound will begin to thrash, and you would much rather not have to send both of you to the infirmary. "This is going to hurt," you warn him, tautening as you bring the blade close to the rope. "And it may take a while." Needing to say nothing more, you begin to cut and chop at the rope. Each time you do it, $hound lets out a hiss as a bolt of electricity is sent out to dissuade the two of you from tampering further. Continuing on, it feels like nearly an hour before you can finally free $hound, and he is not without his own battle scars. Though his carapace looks free from damage, his underbelly is scarred from the fresh burn marks. Not waiting for you, <<if hasVisited("Approach Them")>>he lunges towards the mouth of the alley<<else>>he darts down the sidewalk<</if>>, obviously wishing to be free of this area. A sentiment you share. You rub the back of your neck while looking back in the direction the figure from earlier disappeared. <<if hasVisited("Approach Them")>>They—quite literally—fell from the sky and decided to kick your ass before leaving.<<else>>You almost wish to say it was all a dream, but your fingers, the small scratch at your neck, and the discarded net tell you otherwise. They came, they kicked your ass, and they left.<</if>> <a data-passage="6.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Were they Dinami? A second party? What second party could possibly want you dead? You hadn't been able to see them, but based on their voice and what you could make out, they were female. Not vetix, shaph, or any of the larger species names that come to you. But that does little to identify your attacker. Countless species can be slotted in, and simply saying they have feminine characteristics doesn't even bring you half an inch closer. So Dinami or a second party. You are not quite sure which one causes you to feel more panic. First Tsering, now them. And neither individual were you able to best. A year in the Outlands put you back. You knew that would be the case. But not to this extent. The old you … You almost wish to growl as the truth settles and glances at you with undisguised mirth at finally being exposed. The old you wouldn't have allowed any of this to happen. ?He <<verb "was">> stronger, and only now that your past has caught up to you did you realize just how weak you have grown. Complacent as well. A few bounty hunters and gang members gawk at you not because of your skill but the markings that decorate your face, causing you to forget the importance of maintaining a strict regiment because of surface-level intimidation. And now you are paying for it. Something in the back of your mind irks you, but you cannot put a word to it until you hear clattering to the side, both you and $hound preparing to face whatever it is. It turns out to simply be a junk rat securing its meal for the night, its glowing red eyes sizing the two of you up before darting out of sight. And then it hits you. It is the feeling. The feeling of having to check every corner and be aware of your surroundings at all times. The feeling that you are no longer enough because your title of hunter has been traded in for one you have not held for decades. Prey. <a data-passage="Chapter Seven"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_7.png" alt="Chapter Seven" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ Coming Soon to a Computer Near You
<<nobr>>\ <<set $guards_dead to false; $injury_leg to false; $zihrinjured to false>> <<playlist "flashback" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2026_2.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. Baroness Larikiias Tulvai pem-rits invites you to her estates 60th Grand Mao Opening. To celebrate the occassion, she asks for all enjoyers of the sport to submit their strongest terrans. She is confident none will beat those she has chosen. Written by a Trarkran Servant. Official Invitation to the 60th Grand Mao"> <span class ="flashback">You hate this planet. And yet, you can't deny its bizarre beauty. Growing up, science fiction had a knack for portraying worlds as bleak with no signs of life and sharp spires amongst desert and dreary landscapes. Those that did hold any kind of life always felt too much like home. Something you could find on your own planet if you knew where to go. It never bothered you much, but now you feel cheated of such sights. An envious feeling always lays claims to your thoughts over the views that future generations will look upon, though you suppose it wouldn't exactly be science fiction anymore. The sky looks as if someone had painted an eternal sunset. Perfectly blended peach, gold, and yellow hues swirl in the sky interrupted only by the thick clouds of smoke that seem to belong there just as much as the two suns. In all actuality, the sky and its double suns are probably the least alien thing about this planet. As the vehicle rides past the landscape, you take in the blood-red grass that leads to lean trees that curl wickedly. The water, if that is what it is, is orange and reminds you of lava while coral-appearing rocks breach the surface. Other plants are scattered about, some far harder to name and describe than others. "Look at that," Camila whispers from beside you. Initially, you believe she's pointing to the jagged mountains that remind you a bit of spears, but the angle fails to line up. Perhaps they are more akin to fingers, scrawny and crooked but that image makes you shiver. You shift just enough to see that she is gesturing to dome-like architecture in the distance. They vaguely remind you of jellyfish if the heads of such creatures were made of glass and crystals. There is something ethereal and spine-chilling about them, a curious enough sight but one you know is built by those who kidnapped and enslaved you.</span> <a data-passage="3FB.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You settle down in your seat, paying little attention to your curious sister. Dante sits across from you, his attention solely on the floor and, as far as you have observed, never drifting to anything else. He has been quiet ever since they led you to the shuttle. Perhaps he is thinking the same as you; this is all real. It feels like you spent an eternity in that cell that it began to feel surreal. The knowledge that you were not home was there, but imagination is a powerful thing when delusion and hunger have set in. And now … now here you are on a shuttle on an unknown world to who knows where. The thought alone causes your breathing to pick up. Your head grows light, so you rest it on the back of the seat. Calm down, you tell yourself. Nothing good will come from you having a heart attack. Your captors probably won't even care. They'll throw you off the vehicle and leave you there to die. How much are you even worth individually? Stop, you scream. "$name?" The feeling of a small hand gripping yours pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look over at Camila. She stares at you with her large, deep brown eyes. She squeezes your hand and whispers, "I'm scared too."</span> [[“I'm here for you.”|3FBHereForYou]] [[Squeeze her hand.|3FBHand]] [[Hug her.|3FBHug]]
<span class ="flashback">"Hey," you start, running your fingers through her hair, "you don't have to be scared cos I'm right here, and I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You squeeze her hand, "I'm here for you. You know that."</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"Hey, come on," you start, bringing her close and wrapping your arms around her, "I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you."</span> <<include "3FB.1.1">>
<span class ="flashback">"But what if something happens to you?" "Then I want you to run or go to Dante. But as long as I'm alive, I won't let anything happen to you." She nods, resting her head on your arm and refusing to let go. "Je t'aime, $name." "Hey, I love you too …"</span> [[… munchkin.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "munchkin"]] [[… bug.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "bug"]] [[… lil'étoile.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "lil'étoile"]] [[… cerdita.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "cerdita"]] [[No nickname.|3FB.2][$camilaNN to "Camila"]]
<span class ="flashback">"… $camilaNN. Always." You're not sure when you fell asleep. But you're awakened by the jostling of Dante, who rouses you gently, his hand on your arm. "What's going on?" you question, seeing those behind him lined up. "I think we're here." He nods to something outside and you glance to see one of those large jellyfish domes before you. Only this one is not as translucent and seems far more stable. Near the top of the dome lies a balcony that you hypothesize goes all the way around. Attached to it are smaller domes, providing what you can only guess means other branching rooms. The entire thing glimmers underneath the harsh sunlight and appears light gold, framing it perfectly with the mountainous spires far in the background and the peach sky overhead. Your heart is hammering, and only the reminder that Camila is there causes it to slow. <<if $dante_brave>>"Come on," Dante mumbles, his arm guiding both of you to the walkway and behind the slowly shortening line. Your siblings' hands keep you grounded, but each step still sees you growing in fear as you step off the shuttle and get in line alongside the others.<<else>>Dante seems just as nervous, hardly any better than you. Inhaling deeper, you straighten up and rise. "Come on," you tell them both encouragingly. You want to add something else, but your mouth is dry, and your fear hushes you. Each step sees that same dread grow as you step off the shuttle and get in line alongside the others.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="3FB.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">A trarkran with dark orange, almost auburn skin makes their way down the line. From what you see, they ask for the hand and do a scan before injecting something into your arm and then moving to the next. When they get to you, you can hardly react before they're done, moving on to Camila and then Dante. You instead stare at your arm, wondering what they just gave you. A tracker, maybe? That would make sense, right? But why would any of you run away? This species has already proven to not be your allies, and this land is so alien that you're positive that you wouldn't survive a day alone. The trarkran from earlier says something in their language, while simultaneously messing with their chip terminal when suddenly their words make sense. "Understand?" they ask, looking at you all. "Can you all understand me?" Someone further down the line stutters out an answer, and the trarkran nods, about to say more, when three trarkrans that look significantly different than all you've seen before come towards you. They walk as if royalty and the way they carry themselves feels otherworldly. If your entire body wasn't trembling, you might just be enamored. "Naitene, are you done with the slaves yet?" one of them asks. They not only look older but carry themselves in a way that the other two do not. "I have to attend a gathering put on by Baroness Larikiias' and would like this handled by the time I return." "I have just done language tweaks, my Baroness," Naitene raises a brow, "another gladiator fight?" "Thankfully not, just the opening. Otherwise, I'd stay home and entertain all of …" the Baroness points to your group, "this. Have my husband aid you. Also, choose two to act as gifts for her little fight." "Is he not busy in his lab?" "I don't care if he was meeting the Empress. He needs to do something helpful for once."</span> <a data-passage="3FB.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"I will ask for his aid," Naitene answers with a bow, and the Baroness seems happy enough. Her eyes glide across all of you, paying none of you any mind before she sighs and heads towards what you believe is a vehicle. It's circular and seems too small to fit one body, let alone three or more. Yet, you watch as they each get in, and it rises and shoots off at a reasonable speed. "Listen up," the one known as Naitene starts, "welcome to your new life. When Baroness Devina comes back, she'll better divvy up your new jobs and place you into your appropriate //u̥kti'mam//, but right now you are to follow the servants and head to the bathhouse to be bathed and dressed. From here on out, you will refer to Baroness Devina as Her Guidance and her daughters, respectively, for they are Ladies. Baron Jarill will probably ask that you simply refer to him as the Baron. He is a simple man, and it is instrumental that you do not disturb him. I am your superior, but you may refer to me as Overseer Naitene. Do you all understand?" "Yes," many of you say, only later realizing your mistake and adding his previous title. He simply sighs, mumbling something to those beside him and causing them to laugh as servants step up. Your heart has found its way into your throat, and though you manage to stay upright, you feel increasingly lightheaded. You want to scream. To wake up from whatever nightmare has decided you are under its rule. You would give anything to wake up back on Terra Genesis. Home. That is all you wish for. Home.</span> <a data-passage="3.02"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<playlist "flashback" stop>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_3.png"> Slinging the last pack onto $hound's back, you take a moment to look around the area you have grown accustomed to for the past year. A different person would say that it has changed them, helped them to develop crucial skills, or taught lessons that would stick with them for the rest of their lives. And in all regards, you would not condone an individual for thinking such a thing. The Outlands could be jeopardous, and its occupants would cause many to reevaluate their thoughts on society and the decency of others. But, luckily, or more so, unfortunately, you have learned far too many lessons from past occupations and events. The Outlands had nothing to teach you, not even how to wait patiently for your time to act. Tightening the strap, you wonder if the past year will disappear behind a misty cloud and simply be a time you remember every so often. "$name," Checl greets, coming to your side and looking around the area with a critical eye. "Are you going to miss it?" [[Snort. “What do you think?”|3.02Snort]] [[“It was an interesting vacation.”|3.02Vacation]] [[“Parts of me want to stay.”|3.02Stay]] [[Don't answer.|3.02DontAnswer]]
Gazing around, you release a snort before resting your eyes on Checl. "What do you think?" "I hardly know much about you. For all I know, you enjoyed your time here." "I spent time here, and that's the end of it. I hardly think I'll remember most of it. Maybe only that this is where I met the two of you." "Then at least something good came out of it." She says this with a bit of hope in her voice, and though you take note of it, you say nothing else on the topic. <<include "3.03">>
"It was an interesting enough vacation, at least." "Did you say vacation?" She gazes around, and the look of disgust spreads. "Yes, come down to the urine-covered streets of the Dread Outlands. We will rob you for free." "I was robbed only once," you chuckle. "And I got my money back soon after." "Not all of us are as merciless and lucky as you." You almost snort at her calling you lucky. That is one trait you will never use to describe yourself. <<include "3.03">>
"Part of me would rather stay here." "What?" she asks in understandable astonishment. You shrug. "There are far worse things than this little desert den." A sickening smile appears, "hotter and far more ruthless worlds." "And you've seen them?" "Lived on them. Explored. Escaped. Yes." Your frown deepens, but you shoo the thoughts from your mind, or more so, simply place them on a shelf to return to later. You always find yourself returning to them. <<include "3.03">>
You hear the question, but your silence may cause some to believe you haven't. Thankfully, Checl knows you well enough to understand what your silence means, and though it never keeps her from speaking, it does lessen the questions targeted at you. <<include "3.03">>
"I won't miss it. I was ready to leave the moment I stepped foot here." "Seeking to rejoin your ark?" "Probably not," she inhales, then exhales even slower. "So many of my brothers and sisters were stolen. I don't want to return and not see their faces." Her frown deepens. "What's going to happen once we're out of here?" "We have to first get out of here," you seek to remind her. "Yes, but we have you. There's no way we won't get through the Spires." You release a sad chuckle, "I'm not omnipotent, Checl." "No, I know." Her feathers rise as her mandibles seem to vibrate slightly in embarrassment. [[“I'll try my best.”|3.03TryBest]] [[“Don't put this on me.”|3.03PutThisOnMe]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Is that embarrassment I see?”|3.03Embarrassment][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Is that embarrassment I see?”|3.03Embarrassment][$checlRo -=3; $checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“That's adorable.”|3.03Adorable]] [[Say nothing.|3.04]]
You smirk at how she attempts to settle down, looking back over the vast desert landscape that has become something familiar over the past year. "I'll try my best." "What happens if we don't make it?" "Losing faith in me that quick?" you question, smiling as yet again she looks embarrassed, "that has to be a record." "No! Of course not. What I mean … I mean …" she sighs, shaking her head as if tired. "I don't know what I mean. I guess anything can happen, and though none of us know what will, assurance is always nice." <<include "3.04">>
"Don't put your life in my hands," you tell her, "I have enough on my plate just trying to focus on me. I don't need you and this band of misfits also relying on me." "You're going to have us relying on you regardless of whether you like it or not," she points out. "Then keep it to yourself. I don't need the added stress." <<include "3.04">>
"Checl," you tsk with a playful smile, "is that embarrassment I see?" "You say that as if you haven't seen me embarrassed before." "Yes, but I always make it my mission to bring attention to it. If only to see you perform that pout you always like to do." No sooner than you speak these words does she begin to pout, her eyes widening once the rest of your sentence is out. She tries to wipe it away, failing. You let out a relaxed chuckle, wishing to poke her cheek but taking to admiring her instead. She's beautiful, a fact that harbors no room to argue or deny. You recall the first time you had seen a zeach. You had heard about them far before ever seeing one and had already decided to dispute the points of their so-called boundless beauty. It was a hard-fought battle, but you felt confident in your victory. Until you saw another that saw you questioning your own beliefs, and then Checl, who you begrudgingly admitted to being a head turner. Not much has changed since then, only your openness in reminding her of her attractiveness. <a data-passage="3.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You're unable to keep the snort to yourself as you look her over, "that's adorable." "What is?" "Your language might have a word for it, but you're blushing. It's when you're embarrassed in a good way. Well ... most of the time good." "Blushing," she carefully pronounces, "how do terrans show that?" "Our cheeks heat up. You can sometimes see the color change depending on the person's skin tone." "That sounds like it hurts." "It actually can, depending on how hard you blush. It's not something we can stop or start." "Perhaps we do have a word. Startled?" You bring up your chip's settings and pause the translator, "repeat it." "Tyawnil." You nod and un-pause the device. "Our feathers will sprawl out in different directions as if attempting to flee. It hurts, but we can wait for the pain to pass." It isn't the same, but you've long since learned that some things never are. <a data-passage="3.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
She looks like she wants to say more, but the sound of someone clearing their throat causes you to turn and face whomever. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "It's time," Zihr informs, not wasting a second more as he heads back towards the wagon. Checl sighs dreamily before moving to join him, but you stay where you are, gazing out at the market that has yet to rise. You feel ready, but are you? Is this just carefully set bravado you have grown used to placing over your fear? Once you leave this area, everything that has been building up inside will finally find itself front and center. There's no more hiding behind the excuse of being unable to do anything about it or being locked to the Outlands. <<else>>\ "It's time," Zihr informs, not wasting a second more as he heads back towards the wagon. She gives you an apologetic grin. "I think he's still mad at you." Waving her words away, you shrug. "Tell me when he's ever not." She moves to join him, but you stay where you are, gazing out at the market that has yet to rise. You feel ready, but are you? Is this just carefully set bravado you have grown used to placing over your fear? Once you leave this area, everything that has been building up inside will finally find itself front and center. There's no more hiding behind the excuse of being unable to do anything about it or being locked to the Outlands. <</if>>\ Turning and wandering back to the others, you approach just as Prourc finishes whatever speech he deems necessary enough to give. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "Raza," Prourc shouts, gaining the attention of the three razas there. He sighs before pointing to Zihr. "You understand that he's with you." He gestures to Zyrith who is standing close to the wagon, appearing as if he's already had enough of Prourc. "I'm not responsible for his well-being or getting him inside the city walls." "Yes, I remembered it the first time you told me too." <</if>>\ He turns to you, "and you understand that this may not go in your favor?" [[“Tell me five more times first.”|3.04FiveMoreTimes][$view +=3]] [[“There goes that worry again.”|3.04GoesMyWorry][$humor +=3]] [[“I'll be fine.”|3.04BeFine][$humor -=3]] [[Nod.|3.04Nod][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> "Perhaps after you tell me the same thing five more times." Prourc frowns but you ignore him. <<include "3.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "There you go worrying about me again. Careful, Prourc, someone may think you care if you carry on this way." He grumbles something, but you ignore him. <<include "3.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++</span><</if>> "I'll be fine," you tell him, hardly paying him any mind. <<include "3.05">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You simply nod your head, your focus on something else entirely now. <<include "3.05">>
He does remind you of a good point. What will you do if the solars you have for the bribe doesn't do its job? You have never found yourself in a position like this, relying on nothing more than money to help you out of a precarious situation. You can't rely on Dinami contacts or Tsering's annoying yet effective magnetism for aid. There may be a side entrance set up by the Dinami, but you may be imagining things for the sake of your own sanity. If it wasn't complete suicide, you'd just fight your way in. "Are you two ready?" Prourc questions his guards, recapturing your attention. An idea blossoms to life. "Prourc, your papers." Though he gives you a questionable look, he hands them over, and you flip to the page in question. Just like you thought, the guard information is minimal. Simply their names, nothing to do with their species or outward appearance. Your eyes swivel over to them as a few situations come to mind. How easy would it be to stage an unfortunate accident? To forget to cover someone's back as a bullet cripples and executes. Taking on another's name holds no issue, and Checl can easily claim to be the lone zeach's daughter. The money you handed Prourc can then be used inside Taouron instead of relying on hope to help guide you from there. "$name?" Prourc questions as you hand the travel papers back. "Find what you were looking for?" "No," you lie, "but my curiosity is sated." You'll have time to figure out what you want to do. It would be beyond foolish to try and make a move now, especially not knowing what weapons they hold and what they can do with said weapons. <a data-passage="3.06"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Is everyone ready? This is it." Looking over all those that face him, Prourc nods and pats the side of the <<link 'dhole'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/dhole.png" align="right" width="30%">The dhole is a two legged, avian creature with a feathered tail and strong yet thin legs that lead up to a streamlined body. They have thick short necks that can be extended when needed. Their eyes rest upon a crest with a sizeable beak. Though carnivores, they are peaceful and relatively gentle creatures that only grow aggressive when protecting their young. Along with this, they are surprisingly trustworthy, allowing many to tame them easily as long as said tamer is patient. They are a hardy creature, though used more during the ages before speeders. During the height of their use, they were used by nomads. Though slow, they could tackle dozens of miles without food and water and survive extreme temperatures, making them into a popular cart puller. Now, they are typically raised as simple farm animals for their feathers and eggs or left to roam the desert wilderness in peace.<</dialog>><</link>> before getting up onto his wagon. "Then let us be off." And thus, you are. Not once do you care to turn around to see how far from the Outlands you travel. You can easily estimate it due to the growing spires in the distance. Soon, you'll be amongst them, just like that day you were pushed to your death by a pair of hands you once trusted. "It's really odd," you hear Checl say and turn to see her dissecting your surroundings. "You hear about how deadly this place is and never about how beautiful." It's easy to agree. The sand has shifted into a mix of both compact and loose silt. The color shift immediate as one steps across the periphery and onto the much lighter colored ground. A few plants and shrubs poke out of the ground, showcasing their resilience for those of curious minds. More commonly, you spot flat and jagged crystals that cause an otherwise beautiful but simple landscape to come to life. They shimmer brightly under the sun's rays, glistening with pride amongst the desert landscape. If you remember correctly, a few of them are edible and provide various minerals. Not that you had attempted it, even when you were in need of nutrients you had not deemed it a necessity. <<if $smarts >=10>>\ Checl heads towards one, but you stop her, "unless you wish to burn your hand. It's wiser to just continue." She nods, sparing the crystals one last glance before taking you up on your advice. <<else>>\ You watch as Checl heads towards one of the crystals, moving to touch it and screaming soon after. She yanks her hand back to her side and whimpers, turning to all of you. "It burned me." <<if $medical >=10>>\ "Yes," Zihr mumbles, rolling his eyes, "who would've guessed that crystals existing directly under the sun would be hot?" You walk to her side and silently motion for her to give you her hand. She does so, wincing as you start your examination. If she had truly tried to grab it then it would have probably caused second degree burns, the padding of her hand proving to be tremendously sensitive. As it stands, the burn seems similar to that of touching a hot pan or plate. <<if $inv_medkit>>\ "You'll be fine. This gel will cool and then ease the pain." You remove the gel in question from the med kit in your pack and slather a healthy amount on her palm, rubbing it in to make sure it's absorbed. <<else>>\ "You'll be fine. Poor some water over it, not all at once though. Slowly." <</if>>\ "Thank you," she grins. <<else>>\ "Yes," Zihr mumbles, rolling his eyes, "who would've guessed that crystals existing directly under the sun would be hot?" No one says anything, and Checl, now distraught, continues on. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your mind travels to everything, yet nothing, as the mundane journey stretches on. The excitement that once possessed your companions has been stolen by the sun's intensity. It tickles you just how quickly moods have shifted from ones so jovial and stirred. You ponder if this elatement will return once the sun sets. The night is never long here, and even with the descension of the sun, the heat is a constant. But perhaps its absence will change minds. You don't have long to see. As the sun begins to set, the caravan slows. "We should rest here for the night," Prourc voices and you and Zihr seem to share the same thought. "We're still in nightbeast territory," Zihr informs before you have the chance. "We won't make it out of nightbeast territory in time," the zeach points out, "but if we continue further, we won't have the necessary ingredients to make a bonfire." [[“You chose a dhole.”|3.08Dhole]] [[“Grab ingredients as we go then.”|3.08Ingredients]] <<if $smarts >=10>>\ [[“The fire itself, doesn't matter.”|3.08Fire]] <</if>>\ [[Unpack.|3.08Unpack]]
Patting the side of the dhole, you gaze at him and nod to it. "You're the one who chose a dhole." "They are hardy creatures," he states defensively. "More like cheap. We would probably be halfway by now if you had gotten a speeder." "And risk running out of gas or becoming an even bigger target to raiders?" "You're a pretty big target already," Zihr grumbles. "Either of you can gladly head back to the Outlands and see if you can find and buy a speeder for the journey. Accomplish that, and then I will be fine with you complaining your hearts out. Until then, shut up." You hide a smirk while Zihr exhibits a scowl as Prourc walks away. <<include "3.08">>
"Then the smartest course of action would be that you grab items as we go." "That would make us travel even slower." "I agree with $name," Zihr states, the two of you exchanging glances and shuddering. "It's better than just sitting here. The further we go, the fewer nightbeasts we'll find." "Not true," Prourc corrects, "we're in their territory regardless. And must I remind you that a bonfire will keep them at bay? Thirdly, if you don't stop complaining about my decision, I may rescind my invitation for you to sit by said fire." You hide a smirk while Zihr exhibits a scowl as Prourc walks away. <<include "3.08">>
"The fire itself doesn't matter," you remind all those listening as you take off $hound's saddlebags, "it's what you're burning that keeps them away." "Yes, we know that," Zihr grumbles. "Then you probably also know that the deeper we go, the less shrubbery we'll find that actually has the seeds we need to burn for the nightbeasts to leave us be." Zihr is rendered quiet, and with a satisfied snort, Prourc wanders off. <<include "3.08">>
If Prourc wishes to rest here, nothing more can be said. The zeach is stubborn and probably feels like he planned this entire trip wisely. For all you know, he has. At the end of the day, questioning him will only cause him to persist. <<include "3.08">>
After removing all of $hound's bags, you pat the beast's side and start looking for items to make the bonfire. Everyone splits up to grab rocks, remove the thin shrubs, and collect whatever can help a fire thrive. "Alright, $name." You turn to see Prourc approaching you, an arm full of items. "Why did you need to look over my papers?" "Inventory reasons." You shrug, focusing back on your task. "Interesting, especially seeing that you haven't taken a look at my inventory once." [[“I sold you most of it.”|3.08SoldMost]] [[“I had Checl check.”|3.08CheclCheck]] [[“Don't ask stupid questions.”|3.08StupidQ]] [[“What do you want me to say?”|3.08WantMeToSay]] [[“Do you really want to know?”|3.08ReallyWannaKnow]]
"That's because I sold you most of that inventory. I already know what you have." Despite your words holding fragments of truth, both of you know as a whole it's a lie. He knows of your antics and the signs that predate them, unfortunately. <<include "3.09">>
"Why would I check when I can run any questions by Checl? You know, the one taking stock for you?" He nods. "You are correct. The same one that hasn't started yet." You stare at him, and he back at you. There's little you can say. Prourc knows of your antics and knows the signs, unfortunately. <<include "3.09">>
Shrugging, you say, "Look. You asked a stupid question, so don't be surprised when you get a stupid answer." "I was hoping for an honest one." You very much doubt that. Prourc knows you well enough not to expect one. <<include "3.09">>
Releasing a deep sigh, you ask, "What do you want me to say?" "The truth. Though I know how hard it is for you to give that." "Then why ask for it?" you question, rolling your eyes. <<include "3.09">>
"Do you really want to know, Prourc? Or are you asking simply because you're curious?" <<include "3.09">>
"Just tell me this, will it compromise //my// goal?" "No," you answer honestly, "in fact, it may help it." He nods. "Then continue on." He walks back towards the wagon, stopping and glancing over his shoulder. "Just be careful." <a data-passage="3.10"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
With the impending night, the tension surrounding the fire rises. Once the sun disappears, it will only be a matter of time before the howls of the nightbeasts begin to ring out, warning all that their relentless hunt has started. You wonder if tonight will be the last for some of the faces you find yourself surrounded by. "What are everyone's plans once we enter the city?" Checl questions, disturbing the silence that had settled in nicely. At first, no one answers. Everyone's attention on their food and whatever thoughts may plague them. You are no exception as you dig through the can of what you think are beans. They're shaped like beans, and the texture reminds you of the legumes, but the bright coloring and slightly sweet taste bring forth thoughts of fruit. "Well, we all know why I'm going," Prourc answers. "But I'm hoping to just make a living." "And the Outlands wasn't doing that for you?" Zihr asks. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "No one makes a living in the Outlands. They survive and make do. I'd like to see people more interested in what they're buying and not just buying it because they can resell it, or it'll help get them to the next day. I-" "Then maybe you should sell something that people will actually give a damn about," Zihr's mentor, Zyrith, announces. "Everything in the back of that wagon is junk." "You wouldn't know value if it clocked you up side the head and yanked your antennae." "Value matters little when-" "I'm going to spend every solar on some fresh ass and a decent mug," the terran guard announces, cutting off Zyrith in a manner that causes you to want to thank him. <<else>>\ "No one makes a living in the Outlands. They survive and make do. I'd like to see people more interested in what they're buying and not just buying it because they can resell it, or it'll help get them to the next day. I've always wanted to sell items with a story behind them. And I'd much rather that story be a tale than simply being, my local prowler got it for me." You snort as he tosses a look toward you. He shrugs and relaxes. "I want a simple life that I can be proud and comfortable with. This is the route I chose." "You have that simplicity then," one of the guards laugh, a hoarseness to their voice. "I'm going to spend every solar on some fresh ass and a decent mug." <</if>>\ Their partner, a raza, almost spits out their food, turning to them. "And when you find you got no more solars left?" "Well," the foolish guard smiles joyously, "I'll think about that then." A simple brow raise is all you offer the line of thinking before your attention shifts to Zihr. <a data-passage="3.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
He shrugs, moving away from Checl's probing shoves. "I don't know. The things I want to learn and do aren't in Taouron or even Tebriri." He frowns as he throws a speck of sand into the fire, "or maybe they are. I just don't know how to go about finding it." "Finding what?" Checl questions. "My family. Or at least learn how I got in the Outlands." <<if $mentor is "alive">>You steal a glance at his mentor, wondering all that he knew in regards to Zihr's past. You're sure he's told Zihr everything, which if Zihr is any kind of indication of, is not much knowledge at all.<</if>> Checl shifts, her eyes shooting to you for a moment before resting on Zihr. "You weren't born here?" Zihr shakes his head. "If I was, then something happened where I became separated from my family. Either way, I don't know anything about my home." <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "And you know nothing?" you question, though doubting that if he hasn't told Zihr, then there's little reason for him to tell you. "No," he answers. "Zihr was passed onto me by a messenger that refused to tell me anything. I was given nothing but a bundle containing him and the dagger." Meaning the dagger has some kind of importance to his past. He's right. His answers, unless his family comes from Crion, will not be found on this planet. <</if>>\ "I suppose I don't know anything about either of you." Her glance shifts to you, and you can imagine the questions she wishes to ask. Thankfully, Zihr grabs her attention before the air can turn awkward. "What about you? I wouldn't know what to guess you're heading to Taouron for." "She's a zeach," the terran guard states. "She's there to be a dancer." "I'm not," Checl sighs, indicating that she has already grown tired of the premature conversation. "Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "That's all you guys are really good at." He nods at Prourc. "And selling bullshit, it seems." [[“Hey, let her speak.”|3.11LetHerSpeak][$checl +=3]] [[“Rich coming from you.”|3.11RichFromYou][$checl +=3]] [[Say nothing.|3.11SayNothing][$checl -=3]]
"Hey!" you shout, finally including yourself in the conversation. "Let her speak." "I'm just saying," he grumbles, but otherwise, he grows quiet, and after clearing her throat and giving you a grateful nod, Checl continues. <<include "3.12">>
"That's mighty rich coming from you," you snort, lazily gazing over at him. You can't tell if they're a Geniser or Primer, and he's certainly no Tetigit. Blank, you think before continuing on, "You just told us you're going to waste all your money on ass and alcohol, something a lot of pathetic guards end up doing." "What did you just call me, half-breed?" You make to answer, but Checl speaks up before you can, sighing wistfully as she continues her latter thoughts. <<include "3.12">>
You remain silent, almost wishing that the others would do the same so that you can enjoy yourself. "Do remember who is helping you to get into Taouron, terran," Prourc reminds, and the guard raises his hands as if to surrender the point. "I'm just saying. Point to one zeach who does anything meaningful. You guys are predictable." "Says the guard looking to waste their solars getting wasted and fucked all night long," Zihr says in disgust, causing the guard to lean forward with a toothy grin. "You raza are the same too. One of you turns up without those fucking markings on your face and acts like the world is ending." Zihr's ears stand straighter and seem to turn a darker shade. It was an interesting observation, <<if $mentor is "alive">>Zyrith and the raza guard both had markings but Zihr remained without.<<else>>the raza guard had markings but Zihr remained without.<</if>> Now that you think about it, a majority of the raza you come across had them. You can see Zihr's hand twitch, whether to form a fist or to grab onto his blade; you're not sure which due to Checl interrupting them by continuing her latter thoughts. <<include "3.12">>
"I'm not sure what I want to do. I was always interested in being an artist, but I think I want to do something with clothing?" <<if not hasVisited("3.11LetHerSpeak")>>The others are stiff for only a moment longer before seeming to calm back down.<</if>> "A fashion designer?" Zihr inquires, and she nods slowly, absorbed in her own thoughts. "What about you," the terran guard questions his comrade, a raza who seems like they'd rather be left out of the conversation. They turn their glance to you and frown. "Why bug me when this one hasn't said a word about their purpose? I bet you have a wild story, like what those markings are all about." A roaring screech keeps you from answering, if you even had plans of doing so. The nightbeasts have arrived. <a data-passage="3.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You and $hound shift to get a better look and find them there. They prowl the edge of the camp, testing how close they can get before the smell of the burning plants wards them off. Their intelligence comes into question each time you hear them begin to snort and huff hysterically, signaling that they have once again found their limit. Regardless, they are a force to see. Seeming like a phantom that materializes only when they choose to creep into the light. A nightmare indeed. The sound of something being thrown in the fire causes you to glance back towards the others, and you find Prourc wiping his hands on his pants as he murmurs. "Darn beasts." "The root takes a while to burn up. You don't have to repeatedly throw more in," Zihr points out, but Prourc makes his point by adding another. "I'm increasing the perimeter." [[“No you're being wasteful.”|3.13Wasteful]] [[“That's not how it works.”|3.13NotHowThisWorks]] [[“Leave him be, Zihr.”|3.13LeaveHimBeZihr]] [[“Prourc, stop. Please.”|3.13StopProurc]] [[Stay silent.|3.13SS]]
"No, you're being wasteful," you choose to warn, "adding more doesn't increase the perimeter. You're just increasing the fire itself." "That's the point, isn't it?" he questions, about to roll his eyes when you shake your head. "No. Adding more causes the fire to grow, burning the plants faster." "Well, if I stop and we all fall asleep, we'll die. Pick a feather." "That's why we don't all go to sleep," Zihr grumbles, "we take turns." Prourc fails to respond as he throws his hands up in surrender, leaving the plants on the ground as he rises and head to his wagon. <<include "3.14">>
"You should stop because that's not how the plants work," you inform Prourc. His silence tells you that he is genuinely confused and ignorant about why, so you continue on. "The more you add to the fire, the brighter the fire will grow, and the faster everything will burn. The smell will increase for a short period before dying out faster, and the nightbeasts will have nothing holding them back." "Oh," Prourc grumbles, "that makes sense." He places the plants back in the pouch and lies back to relax. With that put to an end, you turn your attention to the creatures who still stalk the outskirts of the camp. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "3.14">>
<<if $mentor is "unknown">>\ Leave him be, Zihr," you warn the raza, who turns his sharp, exasperated gaze to you. His face calms into a quiet rage, reminding you yet again that he's not exactly your biggest fan after the happenings with his mentor. Instead of saying something to you, he just leaves. <<else>>\ Leave him be, Zihr," you warn the raza, who turns his sharp, exasperated gaze to you. "Are you telling me you're fine with this?" He sneers, "you probably don't know he's being wasteful either." Part of you almost wishes to say you had no idea. To say that you simply want him to shut up and are otherwise completely ignorant on the matter. You choose to remain silent, instead shifting your attention to the creatures who haven't gotten bored yet. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <</if>>\ <<include "3.14">>
Waving the excessive smoke away, you toss a pleading look toward Prourc, "Can you stop, please? It's becoming much harder to breathe." "I try and save lives, and I'm ridiculed for it," he sighs but does as you ask. You almost tell him that he's doing no such thing, that adding more plants only causes the fire to burn quicker and, by extension, the smell to fade faster. But his ceasing removes the need to do so. With that put to an end, you turn your attention to the creatures who still prowl the outskirts of the camp. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "3.14">>
He isn't, you think to yourself, but remain silent on the matter, choosing to instead watch the stalking creatures who haven't gotten bored yet. $hound fidgets beside you, constantly shifting before rising and pacing around, then lying back down. <<include "3.14">>
You've only run into the beasts a total of two times. The first accidental as no one had warned you of what lurks in the shadows of the buildings of the Dreads. If it hadn't been for $hound, you doubt you would have gotten out of there with your life intact. The second had been purposeful and far more stressful. You dislike having something exist that wishes to feast upon you while you have little to no idea of its weaknesses and strengths. And so, you deliberately waited for night to fall and lured one of them near you. It was a nasty fight, mainly because one was joined by another and then another. But you were victorious. It taught you not only how to kill them but also to respect them. They weren't mindless killers though not as intelligent as the aiczeots. Those lessons seem to come back to you now as you watch them prowl the edges of the camp. Their large and bulky frames built not only with strength in mind but also speed. You've seen the four-legged beasts charge across long distances hoping to catch prey, and rarely do they fail. <a data-passage="3.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Comfortable?" you ask $hound, receiving nothing more than a snort from the beast as he rests his head on his front legs. It doesn't take long for the bright glow of his slits to abate, telling you that he has fallen asleep. You then rest your head on his rough, chitinous side, staring at an endless sky whose color reminds you of cool, sleek metal. At times, a meteor can be seen shooting across the sky, but otherwise, it remains quiet and uneventful. A thought you haven't had in a while comes back to you, one pertaining to the constellations that tell stories in the bottomless skies of Terra Genesis. You forget what the stars even look like back home, and something deep within says you probably will never see them again. There's no time for reminiscing or self-pity. In a day or so, you'll be at the gates of Taouron, and if all goes well, you'll be allowed in. And then, your vacation ends and the work begins. You're free to do as you wish for the first time since being taken from your home. No trarkran slavers smirking down upon you as they judge your price based on alien statistics. No Dinami executioners hovering over you, their faces splattered with your blood and ears filled with your screams. No one to report to. Only you. Checl had asked what each of you hoped to find once in Taouron. Nothing, if you were to be honest. Nothing you sought to right or reclaim can be found in the city or even on this planet. It all exists somewhere distant, where travel requires intellect cooperating with dark matter to fling you into hyperspace, allowing you to go from one galaxy to the next. The only things you will find here on Crion are the first steps and clues to achieving your broader goals. But now that you're sitting here, you wonder what's the most important thing to focus on. [[Revenge.|3.15Revenge][$heart +=3]] [[Answers. That’s all you care for.|3.15Answers][$mind +=3]] [[Clearing your name.|3.15ClearingYourName][$gut +=3]]
There are a few things on your list, but revenge is the most important. Tsering will feel every bit of pain you experienced when you landed on that desert floor, in addition to the abstractions one creates when one spends a year allowing their mind such freedoms. He is in for a rude awakening if he thinks time has dimmed your thirst or mitigated your animosity. One you hope to deliver personally. <<include "3.16">>
The Dinami, Tsering, all of that can wait. The most important thing to you is finding answers to your questions. You know who you are and even what, but the question of why, how, and to what extent has never been answered. You’ve stayed up many a night trying to piece the Baron’s actions into some kind of chronological and rational order. But either you are getting things wrong or gaps are present. With your luck, it’s probably both. <<include "3.16">>
One may argue that while it may not help you remain free, it will at least help prolong your life. The last thing you want is to look over your shoulder every second to ensure an assassin or hit-person isn’t standing there. Tsering could have told them a long list of things, and with no one but his two accomplices as witnesses, you are sure they are prone to believe it. Of course, the Dinami will not act on his word alone. They will want to capture, interrogate, and torture you to every extreme. But you will be alive. Perhaps they will listen, perhaps not. Still, it will happen once they learn that you live, and no matter how careful you are, they will catch up to you. You just rather it be on your terms instead of theirs. <<include "3.16">>
You're eager to sleep, but one last thought keeps you from such a thing. Freedom. True freedom. Not this fallacy that you now find yourself in. The freedom that allows you to be free not only in mind but in body and purpose. A freedom that is only met when you're standing and there's nothing left to do. Part of you yearns to leave all of this behind. To go someplace where no one will think twice about your presence. A place where you can start over and try to live the rest of your life in some kind of amnesic state. You can adopt a new name, look, backstory ... a new identity altogether. When people ask you about who you once were, you will take on a ruminant look—like you've seen so many times in movies—and then wave it off. Play as if they had just said something funny and refuse to tell the story. Or you can make up a fitting story, each person receiving a new one until everyone learns their question is lost on you. There is a world out there. A world no longer confined to a single country or continent, not even a planet or solar system. Hundreds of planets far away from all this that you may find yourself. [[And you yearn for it.|3.16YearnForIt][$view +=3]] [[Not yet. Not now.|3.16NotYet][$view -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> The thought makes you want to throw your head back and laugh. To have such an enticing idea right before you, dangled only so far. Every time you reach towards it, it moves away as if suddenly feeling diffident. You can cross an entire planet and still find yourself no closer to grasping this life. Not until you have your answers. Until then, you will never be fast enough to catch what is within your grasp. <<include "3.17">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> You swallow at the thought. For something so enticing to be dangled in front of you, and it is you who turns away. You're the one who withdraws their hand and goes down a route far less appealing. But you know deep inside that you must. You will never be content if you force yourself to catch it and move on. The questions will haunt your dreams and stalk you during your waking hours. You will never truly be free. <<include "3.17">>
Shaking the thought from your head, you get to your feet to further distance yourself from the party. You make for the outskirts, close enough to the nightbeasts that they find themselves interested solely in your presence but still within the perimeter of the bonfire's strength. You take a seat and let out a deep exhale. Here, in the here and now, is where you are, and it's best to remember that. Dreaming of a future you may never get won't shield you from incoming bullets or make you impervious to lies and deceit. One would think such a lesson would be realized and accepted, but you're constantly discovering that half the things you //should've// learned are nothing more than empty boxes waiting to be given a check. "Couldn't sleep either?" You turn to see … [[Checl.|3.17Checl]] <<if $mentor is "unknown">>Zihr.<<else>>[[Zihr.|3.17Zihr]]<</if>>
"Me neither," she continues, giving you no time to answer and sitting beside you. "You should at least try." "I know … I know. But there's this mix of excitement and terror every time I try. My eyes are open, and I see civilization and storefronts and restaurants. Then when I close them …" She drifts off as she studies what lies beyond, the spires whose piked tips behave as if they are preparing to puncture the sky, and the nightbeasts who voice their frustration and hiss when that frustration shifts into anserine action. Other than that, there's not much to see. "Do you think it's still going on?" Checl questions, cocking her head to the side as she squints. You ready yourself to question her, but she resumes, almost as if she's just speaking to fill the silence. "The Outlands." She shakes her head and finally turns to look at you. "Do you still think they're fighting back in the Dreads?" "Probably. I see no reason why our absence would stop any of it." "I keep thinking about what I'm going to do in Taouron. What I can do. The list doesn't seem very long." [[“You're not giving yourself any credit.”|3.17GivingYourselfCredit][$checl +=3]] [[“I'm sure there's plenty of zeach-capable jobs.”|3.17ZeachCapableJobs][$checl -=5]] [[“A list is a list.”|3.17List]] <<if $flirt_checl>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You're way too amazing not to find something.”|3.17TooAmazing][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<<else>>[[“You're way too amazing not to find something.”|3.17TooAmazing][$checlRoPo +=1; $checlRo +=5]]<</if>><</if>>
"Sounds more like you're just not giving yourself the credit you deserve." "And what credit is that?" "Checl, you don't need someone to stroke your ego to know that you're good at a lot of things. You're smart, beautiful, sociable, and damn well capable." "Or is that only what you want to believe I am?" she questions, shaking her head as her feathers stiffen, "or maybe that's only by Dread standards. Places change you. I wanted out, but that doesn't mean the Outlands didn't change me and who I was before. I'm not that same person. I mean, I try to be, but I know I'm not." "Where is all this coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about all of this." <<include "3.17.1">>
"I'm more than sure that Taouron and the surrounding sectors are filled with zeach-capable jobs." She turns to you with a frown, "Nice, $name. Very non-xenophobic there." "Are you about to go out and become law enforcement?" "I could!" "You're arguing just for the sake of it. We both know you don't know how to fire a gun. You screech when you hear loud noises. The only reason you're sitting here now is that I'm here, and you feel somewhat safe. Am I wrong?" She glares at you. "You don't have to be a //kmoichë// about it." You sigh, not caring to ask her what the word means. "Where is all this coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about everything." <<include "3.17.1">>
"A list is still a list no matter what's on it. That's better than what some people may have going in." "Comparing myself to others won't help me." "True," you agree with a light shrug, "but neither will complaining. If you don't like your options, make new ones for yourself. If you find that impossible, be okay with the list you're given." You pause, glancing over at her with a raised brow. "Where is all this even coming from? Just a while ago, you were ecstatic about all of this." <<include "3.17.1">>
You hum in thought. "You're way too amazing not to find something. You're worried now, but you'll find it to be so easy that you'll look back and think yourself silly." Her eyes are wide when you glance over at her. She looks at you as if there are a million things she wants to say, but her mouth refuses to say any of them. "Cat got your tongue?" you question, loving how Checl's wide eyes narrow, and she cocks her head to the side in confusion. You turn to face her. "Cat. Is that even a word that gets translated?" "No," she smiles, "it sounds incredibly odd every time you say it." "Good to know. But, going back to the previous topic. Why are you so worried about that, out of all things? Were you not ecstatic about all of this just a moment ago?" <<include "3.17.1">>
She shrugs gloomily. "Sometimes I want to see the sun and everything good and ignore how things can go wrong. Talking to you helps. You've always been really good at getting me to see the good and the bad." [[“Stick to the good.”|3.17CheclGood]] [[“The bad gets you prepared.”|3.17CheclBad]] [[“Both is good.”|3.17CheclBoth]]
"Stick to seeing the good," you advise her, "we have enough doom and gloom around for you not to add yourself to it." "Yea," she chuckles, "I'll save that for you. We'll be opposites." [[“I'm a positive person.”|3.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|3.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|3.17Real]]
"There's a lot of good that comes from seeing the bad," you chuckle, "you're less surprised afterward." "I was never really good at just looking at the negatives. Not like you." [[“I'm a positive person.”|3.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|3.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|3.17Real]]
"Seeing both is probably where you want to stay. Obviously for balance but for a decent piece of mind as well." "I'm surprised you think that when you're normally just looking at the bad." [[“I'm a positive person.”|3.17Opt]] [[“I'll take it.”|3.17Pess]] [[“Realistic is not pessimistic.”|3.17Real]]
"Whoa, I'm a very optimistic person." She playfully shrugs, her face contorting to resemble one of doubt, and you simply choose to chuckle. "I was as a kid anyway, and I sometimes try to stay that way. Sometimes it just doesn't work. It's hard to always be positive when you've seen what I've seen and done what I've done." "It's the attempt that matters, right?" You nod but do so to merely end the conversation. It's not the attempt or the thought. It's the action. Simply wishing and wanting something to be won't make it happen, and it's undoubtedly the lazy way out. If you want something, you have to go and get it. If you want to be positive, you have to put it into action instead of letting excuses keep you from it, no matter how good they are. Yet another lesson you doubt you've fully learned. You swallow and get to your feet, nodding back to the camp. "You should try and get some sleep. Before we have to move out." She nods, and the two of you head back. You take up your original spot near $hound, who is now awake, and simply gaze at the stars, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Pessimism sees that you're always prepared for the worse. Can't be shocked or tricked or-" You frown at the next word in the line-up. "The point is, you can't be caught off guard if the worst-case scenario is already the one you're looking forward to." "But that can't be healthy, right, always expecting the worse?" "I see it being no different than always expecting the best. Give people as little room to hurt or disappoint you, and you'll never be disappointed. You're prepared when they eventually fuck you over, and everything goes to shit." She's silent for a minute longer than you would like, and when you gaze at her, she seems deep in thought. "Do you look at me like that too?" A question you should have been prepared for if you're honest with yourself. It is also one that you have no intention of lying about. Even if you did, Checl would know how you really feel. So you stand, making it clear that the conversation has reached its end. "No exceptions, Checl. I said everyone, and I meant it." You head back to $hound to spend the remainder of your night by his side, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Being realistic about situations is not being pessimistic or optimistic. It's just being … well, realistic. If your situation seems bleak, then thinking about a bleak outcome isn't unheard of. The same goes for if the situation is bound to go well. You make do with what you're given. Have your backup plans and doubts, but there's nothing wrong with having faith in someone either." "I feel like your faith is different than mine." You take the bait; part of you is too curious to learn more of what she may mean. "Explain." "Well, when I put my faith into people, I trust them." And there goes that word. Looking back, you should've imagined that word popping up. Checl continues to speak, but your mind has chosen to wander elsewhere. Flashes of all those you did indeed put your faith in appear before you, and how they each showed you the different reasons why you no longer granted that word to most. "Yes," you state, not knowing if you cut her off. "You're right. We have two different thoughts on what 'putting your faith in someone' means." "What does it mean to you?" You're tired and show as much as you get to your feet. "It means I'm tired and that this conversation has ended. Be careful on the outskirts like this." With that, you leave her and head back to $hound, the conversation repeating in your head. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Don't really see it as being a smart move when the fire could go out." "You say that but the guards wasted no time." You glance back at them but say nothing more, their choices are not yours. "I'm not surprised that you're up either." He takes a seat beside you. "Hard to do when you're hearing nightbeast grunts every two seconds. Have you ever fought one?" "The first time wasn't on purpose." He let's out a faint snort. "Which implies that the second time was." He shakes his head and you notice his ear twitch and a look of annoyance passes on his face. "Of course you would seek a fight with one." You open your mouth to argue but you most surely did seek the second fight. Your reasoning is logical to you. Unlike some, you're prepared for what may happen here if the creatures ever have a chance to attack. [[“Do you know how to kill one?”|3.17KillOne][$zihr +=5]] [[“Your problem with me is getting old.”|3.17Problem]] [[“I don't go looking for fights.”|3.17NoFindFights][$zihr -=5]] <<if $flirt_zihr>><<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Most folks would just fuck.”|3.17JustFuck][$zihrRo -=10; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<<else>>[[“Most folks would just fuck.”|3.17JustFuck][$zihrRo -=10; $zihrRoPo =+1]]<</if>><</if>>
"Tell me, Zihr. Do you know how to kill a nightbeast?" "Shoot it just like any other creature." "If you had done the same as I, you would know blindly shooting is a waste of time. By the time you finally hit any exposed skin, they'll either be on you or another would have joined. You get one shot, maybe two depending on how far away it is before it'll charge. If it misses you in the charge and you're not far enough back, it'll immediately try and knock you off balance. You survive all of that and now you're too close to get a smart shot off and without high-grade acid or plasma rounds, you won't do much damage even if you do land your mark. The beast then tries to grab or pummel you into the ground. It knows how to dodge and when to stay away from you and bide its time. Did you know any of that?" He chuckles uninterestedly, shaking his head as he gazes into the distance. "You made your point already." <<include "3.17.2">>
"This problem that you have with me is starting to get dull. Either add something interesting or please, oh so kindly, fuck off. If you hate me so much why did you come over here?" He has the gall to throw a confused look your way. "Hate? I don't hate you." "Whatever you call it, I don't care. Why did you come over here if you just wanted to pick a fight." "You think I knew what you were going to say when I asked if you had ever fought one? Sounds like you're upset at your own predictability." "Do not talk about predictability," you growl. "Every conversation with you is predictable. It's this." You end it there, still highly confused about why he remains. Knowing Zihr, it's too prove a point. To make it seem as if he's the bigger person in the situation and that he didn't stomp off after. <<include "3.17.2">>
"No matter what you think, I don't go out purposely looking for fights." "You just said-" "I'm not talking about that," you interrupt. "That time, yes. And there was a reason for it. But you seem to think that I wake up itching for a fight and I'm not satisfied until I find it." "Curious then how they always find you." "We lived in the Dreads," you exclaim, "everyone is looking to try and one up someone else. How is it my fault when people start fights with me?" "It sounds more like an excuse." "I could say exactly what you want me to say and that wouldn't matter. You'll still find something to harp on about." You shake your head in vexation. "But I'm the one who goes looking for fights." <<include "3.17.2">>
You chuckle softly as you shake your head. "You know Zihr. Most folks would just fuck. They wouldn't continue this back-and-forth game of irritating one another." "Then I should be relieved that neither of us are like 'most folks.'" "How long are you planning to go round and round? This game is going to get old, and not even your masochistic behavior will make it interesting." He scowls. "I don't know what that word is, but since you said it now, of all times, I can presume it's nothing good." The way he ignores everything else you said keeps the smirk that has occupied your face from moving. <<include "3.17.2">>
Both of you are silent for a while and you wish he would simply head back to the fire as there is no other reason for him to provide companionship. Thankfully, the silence also causes you to calm down and you try and spot the direction of the Outlands. You know you'll never see it, far too distant now, but you make the attempt anyway. A part of you wishes you could, to see what the large outpost looks like to those approaching. Was it a welcoming beacon up against the dappled night sky or just another antagonist for those escaping those breathing down their backs? It was neither for you when you first arrived but you can hardly recall what you had been thinking. Suddenly, Zihr voices, "You never answered Checl when she asked about what you're going to do in Taouron." "And?" "Why?" [[“It's my business.”|3.17MyBusiness][$open -=5]] [[“Why do you care?”|3.17WhyCare][$open -=3]] [[“She wouldn't understand.”|3.17WouldntUnderstand][$open +=5]]
"It's my business. If the rest of you want to share what you're doing then do so. But don't expect me to join in on your campfire stories." "Getting defensive over it?" He nods and you find that you have had enough. "These conversations have been enlightening Zihr but I think I'd rather go to sleep than have a third." Luckily, he remains quiet and you leave his side, replacing him with $hound. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Why do you care?" "Curiosity." "Oh, is that all." "So if I hadn't said anything, you wouldn't be curious?" "No. I know how to keep my nose out of other people's business. Whatever you do in Taouron has nothing to do with me." He frowns for a time before saying, "Just because you are that way doesn't mean others are." "True," you state, getting to your feet and stretching, "and I'm not expecting for others to be the same. But I am expecting them to show the same respect and distance." With that, you leave his side, replacing him with $hound. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Because she wouldn't understand." "And me?" You study him for a minute. Perhaps. Knowing Zihr, especially in regards to the conversation that took place a few minutes prior, he'll believe you to be foolish and heading into danger for no reason. Though he may understand the want for answers, the rest he would shake his head at. You don't care, but why summon an unwelcomed reaction when you can receive nothing instead. "You too." If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it, but the expression doesn't quite say nonplussed either. Trying to work out what he is has the capacity to take a lifetime, and you're not even willing to give it a night. So, you rise, bidding him goodnight before walking to $hound's side. At least the latter is much quieter. <a data-passage="3.18"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You watch the fire for a while, feeling your eyes slowly close. You remind yourself of the need to stay awake and readjust, shaking your head violently to stave off the lingering stupor. A blink, all you do is blink, but the next time your eyes open is due to $hound stirring beside you. He licks the ground and you narrow your eyes when you notice that the nightbeasts are absent. It's still night. The sky has just barely begun to change shades and for such a presentable meal, the nightbeasts would still linger. You notice movement to the side and turn to see Zihr approaching and then kneeling beside you as he continues to stare off into the distance, his attention wholly on whatever has gained his attention. "What is it?" "Not sure yet. What would be out this late?" "Early," you correct, shrugging your shoulders and then nodding to the sky when he throws a gaze your way. The dull gray has only slightly lightened but there's a clear streak of white that causes the sky to resemble that of metal. "Whatever it is ran the nightbeasts off," you state, going through a list of other creatures. "It could be raiders?" "No. They would be louder." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "My apologies," you say with a roll of your eyes, "it could be //stealthy// raiders." "Louder as in clearer," he growls. "Then next time just say clearer." The two of you are silent, as if the small exchange warrants a break. Knowing how Zihr feels about you, it probably does. <<else>>\ "How are you so sure?" "Whatever I'm hearing sounds muffled. It's hard to explain since I've never experienced something like this before." <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
His words cause something in your brain to click, and you curse as you scramble to your feet. "Move, now!" you shout to him. "You know what it is?" "<<link 'Nemaworms'>><<dialog 'Codex - Flora/Fauna'>><img src="images/species/nemaworm.png" align="right" width="40%">A burrowing creature native to the deserts of most hot planets, nemaworms are abnormally sized worms (though regarded as medium in size due to the spectacular sizes others can come in) that spend most of their life deep underneath the ground, only surfacing to feed on the desert crystals native to the land. They are blind with no nose or ears and rely more on their sensitive skin. They are naturally aggressive, attacking anything that walks over their burrowing tunnels and alerting the worms to their location. This is not a common occurrence due to the nearly inhabitable landscape that the nemaworms thrive in, as well as due to being prey to the wandering Aiczeots. Otherwise, a charging nemaworm is one of the most dangerous occurences one can come across. Once a nemaworm has deemed something their food, it will stop at nothing to get their prize. Though faster underground, they are quick above land as well.<</dialog>><</link>>," you answer, moving to wake Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zihr's mentor<</if>>. Zihr wastes no time either, heading towards Checl and the two guards. "Wha?" Prourc asks, delusional, almost looking prepared to hit you. In the few seconds it takes for him to realize it's you, you have pulled him to his feet and are now pushing him toward the wagon. "Time to go. Nemaworms." That seems enough to wake him, and he no longer needs your incessant shoving to finally walk on his own. <<if $mentor is "alive">>You make sure Zihr's mentor is up on his feet, and once satisfied, leave him with Prourc.<</if>> The Dread Outlands, thankfully, didn't see many nemaworms. The crystals they feed off are farther out, and they possess little will to crawl to the outpost where their senses would be bombarded by all the commotion. But two or three months after you had arrived, a sun drought passed over the land. No sun for two weeks. Some celebrated, and others prayed to a deity they had long since turned their backs to. But none had been prepared for the nemaworm invasion. With no sun, the crystals stopped providing the minerals the nemaworms survived off of, turning them to seek out different prey. The enlarged worm rarely ate, but it's ravenous and paramount when they become hungry. You believe they would willingly crawl into a vat of lava if they detected food resting inside. It was a deadly two weeks with nemaworms and nightbeasts stalking more of the streets. <a data-passage="3.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "//Hovni//," Prourc growls, his shaking talons making it impossible to properly grip the wagon's rope. "And you call me useless, you old gull," Zihr's mentor mumbles, hitching the wagon back up to the dhole, shaking his head in irritation. "I'll leave you here to play bait. How do you like that?" "Not if I knock you off the wagon first." Prourc's eyes widen, his hand twitching before he settles his heated gaze on you. <<else>>\ "//Hovni//," Prourc growls, his shaking talons making it impossible to properly grip the wagon's rope. You aid him in hitching the dhole back up, and he nods in thanks. <</if>>\ "The plants? Do they not work on them?" You snort. "Nothing works on a nemaworm." An unfortunate truth, as even a full round of varying ammo types will only anger the beasts. Their chitinous hides make for impressive armor, and a persistent hunger gives them a one-track mind even when injured. Heading to the back of the wagon, you find Zihr already there with the two guards. They shift things to the side to provide more room for you, or at least Zihr does. The two guards seem more caught up in their own panicking. The ground rumbles as if possessing a belly of its own, and something roars as it breaches the top of the dense sand, two more echoing the action. "$hound, in. Now." He jumps up on the wagon, and though it seems to suffer from the newly acquired weight, it doesn't fail. <a data-passage="3.20.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Why are we even running from these things?" the terran guard questions, aiming the muzzle at one of the creatures. Neither you nor Zihr can stop them in time as they take a shot. Whether the bullet burrows or bounces off the nemaworm's tough hide, you don't know. It's not close enough for you to make out what injury it acquires, if any. Instead, you watch as the worm looks like it grows in size as it opens its maw wide, rising before crashing to the ground, squirming as it begins to burrow underneath. In another life, you'd be a biologist that found such behaviors fascinating. The speed at which it burrows, the way the ground just seems to part as if liquid, not to mention how it can travel large swaths of land underground. But you're not a biologist. "Shit!' Zihr shouts. "Go, Prourc, go." "What? What was that?" he questions from the front. "Go!" you all shout, and he does. You watch as the incoming nemaworms charge toward you, colliding with each other in their hurry to be the first. "How do we get rid of these things?" the raza guard inquires. "Basically, what your friend over there already started," you inform. "Either kill them or wait until they give up." "And which is easier?" "The former," Zihr grumbles, seeming to be as upset as you. He looks from the worms to you. "We can outrun them, right?" <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ [[“Doubt it.”|3.20DoubtIt]] [[“Dhole's are fast.”|3.20DholeFast]] [[Don't answer.|3.20DontAnswer]] <<else>>\ [[Help with trying to kill them.|3.20HelpKilling]] [[Hope this dhole is faster than the worms.|3.20HopeInDhole]] <</if>>\
"It's a dhole," you remind him, and he shrugs as he almost trips over a box. "They're fast." "In relation to a nemaworm?" "Then what? We pray?" "If you're into that, I'm sure it won't hurt." <<if $humor >=50>>\ "This whole no weapons thing is really starting to piss me off," Zihr informs you. "Try throwing your blade at it," you recommend, getting nothing but a glare that lasts a second as Zihr once again finds it difficult to keep himself upright. <<else>>\ "This whole no weapons thing is really starting to piss me off," Zihr informs you. You have no proper reply, seeing that the absence of a gun at your side is starting to weigh on you as well. <</if>>\ <<include "3.21">>
"Dhole's are pretty fast when it comes to flat ground." "So we can?" You tilt your head from one side to the other. "Maybe. Dhole's are faster than a lot of creatures, but these nemaworms aren't just chasing us above ground but under as well. Plus, there's a wagon full of items and people to slow the dhole down." "I can't tell if you think we're in the clear or not." "Because I can't say." <<include "3.21">>
You hear Zihr but don't answer him. What's the point? You're not sure if you'll get out of this, and no amount of reassurance will change the outcome. Wait and see. That's all any of you can do. <<include "3.21">>
The guard has already started it, so you might as well join in, hoping to either dissuade the worms or injure the two above land. Maybe they'll turn on the injured worm if you can manage to pierce its thick hide. You check your gun and then fire off a few shots, aiming for the eyes as best you can, but with how bumpy this ride has been, most of your shots end up piercing the sand or the upper part of the beast. "Save your charges," Zihr warns, and though you don't plan on making a habit of it, you listen. <<include "3.21">>
"I'm really hoping this dhole of yours proves to be a smart investment," you yell to Prourc, doubting he hears you. "They're fast, right?" the raza guard questions, biting down on their lower lip as they fix their grip on a dangling rope. "Yea, but that's not the question here," you remind. "The question is if they're faster than nemaworms." "They fucking better be," the terran guard exclaims. "You," Zihr growls, "shut up. We'd be in a much better position if you hadn't been a mup-head and shot at it." You raise a brow, glancing at the guard to see if they will utter a retort, but they have placed their attention back on the nemaworms, grumbling under their breath. <<include "3.21">>
Abruptly, the back tire of the wagon shoots upwards, causing all of you to fall to the side. The terran guard collides with you, and though your grip allows you to stay upright, it sends your bottom half flying out of the wagon. You shout, tightening your grip and struggling to angle yourself back into the cart. A nemaworm breaches the sand, maw wide and ready to consume you. Before it nears your foot, you hear Zihr shout, and a low roar is heard as the nemaworm backs down. An arm encircles your body, yanking you into the wagon. The landing is less than gentle as you find yourself on top of a wide-eyed, heavily breathing Zihr. [[“Death wish much?”|3.21DeathWish][$zihr -=5]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Fight the blush. Fight the blush.|3.21CheeksDontFailMeNow][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<<else>>[[Fight the blush. Fight the blush.|3.21CheeksDontFailMeNow][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You could've just asked.”|3.21JustAsked][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<<else>>[[“You could've just asked.”|3.21JustAsked][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $flirt_zihr and hasVisited("3.17JustFuck")>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Taking my advice now?”|3.21AdviceTaken][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=2]]<<else>>[[“Taking my advice now?”|3.21AdviceTaken][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=2]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“Thanks.”|3.21Thanks][$zihr +=5]] [[Get off of him.|3.21GetOff][$zihr +=3]]
With a snarl, you place your hand on his chest, using him to get to your feet. "Do you have a death wish?" "I've never heard a more grateful thank you." "Didn't ask for your help, and I don't need it." He rises, pausing only a minute to ensure he can stand before throwing a heated glare at you. "You are the most -" The wagon once again rocks viciously, smashing whatever else he planned to say against its sides. <<include "3.22">>
No matter how many times you think the words, your cheeks ultimately betray you and you can feel the warmth spreading throughout them. "What's wrong with your face?" Zihr asks, a hint of disgust in his words. "Why are you looking like that?" //Moment gone//, you think to yourself as the paltry pain vanishes and you begin to push yourself off of Zihr. "Shut up," you grumble. <<include "3.22">>
"If you wanted some one on one time with me, Zihr," you chuckle, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger, "all you had to do was ask." "Get off me," he shouts, the tips of his ears burning, and with a chuckle, you do as he orders. <<include "3.22">>
"Oh, are you choosing to take my advice from last night now?" You push yourself up a bit as you look down at him. "Horrible timing. But I'm down for the new experience." "You ... Just ... For fucks sake." With the last statement, he roughly moves you off of him, turning his back to you as you chuckle. For a split-second, you find yourself forgetting about the danger, focused on nothing but Zihr's embarassment. And then you remember where you are. <<include "3.22">>
"Thanks," you say breathlessly, realizing that your life was almost ended by a nemaworm again. When you first found yourself in the Outlands, they had attacked your weakened form, surviving thanks to $hound. It seems that constantly needing to be protected from these beasts is becoming habitual. "You can thank me by getting off," he gasps, and you do just that. <<include "3.22">>
As soon as it's plausible, you move off of him. A simple nod will suffice as thanks. Otherwise, he'll be even more insufferable. <<include "3.22">>
You have barely gotten your feet underneath you when Prourc screams. "Hang on, we're approaching some rocky area!" <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, we're only //now// approaching that?"<<else>>You don't need to be told twice. Your grip on the rope tightens, and you search for anything else that may aid you.<</if>> "Avoid it," Zihr shouts as the wagon jumps. He falls into you, causing you to bump into the terran guard who barely manages to stay on their feet and, therefore, on the wagon. <<if hasVisited("3.21JustAsked")>>"Not a word," Zihr voices before you can, though you wouldn't have, seeing that your focus is on something else entirely.<<else>>Your eyes narrow.<</if>> A rocky area will make for a bumpy ride, and no one will be the wiser of your involvement if someone was to lamentably fall, not even they. Not to mention that if something such as that was to happen then it would distract the nemaworms long enough for you all to escape. [[Push them.|3.22PushThem][$guards_dead to true; $attitude -=5; $gut +=2]] [[See what happens.|3.22SeeWhatHappens][$mind +=2]] [[Leave them be.|3.22LeaveBe][$attitude +=5; $heart +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You bide your time, waiting for the area that Prourc forewarned you about, and rocky it is. You almost doubt you can pull this off due to how much focus you have to place on keeping yourself upright. Zihr is further back in the wagon with $hound, grabbing onto things in an attempt to save Prourc's inventory and hold onto something that will prove to be more stable. The other guard seems to have figured out a trick to shoot, stay upright, and reduce jostling. The best time to strike is now. You wait for another jarring period, and when it comes, you bump into the terran and deftly tangle your foot under theirs. And just like that, they're falling off the edge. "Hey!" the other guard shouts but is unwilling to give up whatever trick they learned to save their partner. So, the guard joins the nemaworms, who seem more than pleased to give up the chase to enjoy their gifted meal. No one says anything as you watch the scene. The worms swarm the body until all you see is a mass of squirming and raging worms. From all the noise the wagon is making, combined with that of the nemaworms, you didn't even hear the guard screaming. Soon, it all becomes just a figure in the distance. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You hold off, watching keenly to see if they would fall from their own nescience. At first, you believe luck is on their side until they try to lean forward just enough to get a better shot just as the wagon's side shoots upwards. They stumble forward, limbs flailing to grab anything they can. Zihr shouts as he leans past you to grab the guard's cloak to safely pull them back. You shift your attention from the two, a frown on your face, but you lack disappointment. You had been curious to see what would happen, and you saw. They should be thankful someone like Zihr is around; otherwise, they would probably be nemaworm chow. The wagon continues on, but you notice the nemaworms slowing until they stop chasing after you altogether. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that you look closely, you can see a few crystals scattered amongst the rocks. They are no longer interested in you because another food source has presented itself. You let out a low snort. The one area that seemed to want to kill you has turned into your salvation. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> The thought surfaces and then dissolves. If something happens, it will be because of their own negligence and because you were not there to lend a hand. You refuse to be the reason for a senseless death, especially when it is unnecessary, and you have other ways to reach your goal. As if testing your thoughts, the guard leans too far forward to get a better shot, just as the wagon's side shoots upwards. You waste no time, lunging forward to grab onto their cloak and bring them back into the cart's safety before they can even realize what may have happened. "Oh fuck," they gasp, nodding to you, "thanks for that." "You're welcome." The wagon continues on, but you notice the nemaworms slowing until they stop chasing after you altogether. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that you look closely, you can see a few crystals scattered amongst the rocks. They are no longer interested in you because another food source has presented itself. You let out a low snort. The one area that seemed to want to kill you has turned into your salvation. <a data-passage="3.23"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I don't hear them anymore," Prourc shouts from up front. "Are we free?" "Yea," you yell back in response. "Keep going until I say it's okay for you to pull over." For a few more minutes, the bumpy ride becomes no less tolerable and you only feel better when you give the all clear and Prourc brings the wagon to a stop. "Is everyone alright? Are you guys okay back there?" Prourc questions as you jump from the back of the wagon, overjoyed to be on solid ground even though it brings about a minor headache and vertigo. "We're fine," Zihr answers as he rights himself, clutching onto his head. $hound is the last out and he immediately starts to taste the air and ground, learning all that he can about this new area. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Well, most of us anyway," the remaining guard adds, tsking as they gaze toward the direction of the now feasting nemaworms. "Poor foolish //relsim//." "You don't really seem bothered by the death of your friend," you point out. They shrug. "Wasn't my friend. We just ended up on the same detail together. And thanks to us both being guards, I gravitated to em'. But," a broad and avaricious grin appears, "now that they're dead, that's more money in my pocket and a guaranteed entry into Taouron." "Or," Zihr voices, "that money could be used to ensure one of us gets in." "Ha," the guard shouts, "fuck that." They leave with their thoughts on the matter spoken, and though you glance over at Zihr, you say and give none of your thoughts away. <</if>>\ "Zihr? $name? Are you both alright?" Checl questions as she rushes up to <<if $checl_touch>>you and cradles the side of your face, looking you over.<<else>>Zihr and cradles his face, looking him over before glancing towards you.<</if>> [[“Fine.”|3.23Fine]] [[“Yes, thank you.”|3.23YesThanks]] <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[Squeeze her hand.|3.23SqueezeHand][$checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[Squeeze her hand.|3.23SqueezeHand][$checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $guards_dead>>\ [[“Better than the other guy.”|3.23BetterThanOtherGuy]] <</if>>\ [[Let Zihr answer.|3.23ZihrAnswer]]
"We're fine." It's a curt and straightforward answer that causes an exuberant Checl to calm down, a frown surfacing. <<include "3.24">>
"Yes, thanks, Checl." She exhales heavily and nods, turning from you to Zihr, who nods in agreement with you. <<include "3.24">>
You fight the growing need to just relax in her grip. Instead, you move back as you grab her hand, squeezing it to reassure you that you're not only okay but also grateful for her worry. Her eyes are focused solely on you before she slightly nods and turns her attention to Zihr. As she fusses over him, you leave and head toward a waiting Prourc. <<include "3.24">>
"Well, we're much better off than that other guy." "What happened?" she inquires, looking behind you at the lone guard who speaks to Prourc. "They fell off the wagon." Zihr sighs, "You'd think they'd be more careful." "Cockiness typically gives way to mistakes," you shrug, leaving their side to head over to a waiting Prourc. <<include "3.24">>
"We're fine, Checl," Zihr reassures her, patting her shoulder before pushing her a few steps back. "We talked about personal space before." "Can I get a pass? I thought one of you died." "I have no intention of dying out here," he shakes his head as he moves towards a waiting Prourc. "Not after all this time." <<include "3.24">>
"How far are we from the wall now?" you ask Prourc, and he retrieves the map, flattening it out on the wagon floor so that all who gather can see. "We're here now, I believe. Or at least in this area." His finger encircles an area partially above the middle. "If we can get out of this area relatively quickly, then we'll have a day, maybe even half a day, left to our journey." "Why say it like that?" Zihr questions. "Because this," you tell him, moving your finger to show them the area, "is nightbeast //and// pirate territory. A fire attracts pirates, and no fire attracts the beasts." "We have guns," the guard reminds, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>> sparing you and Zihr a look, "or at least <<if $guards_dead>>I<<else>>we<</if>>do."<<else>>shaking theirs in the air as if to give you a visual reminder as well. "We'll be fine."<</if>> "Nightbeasts don't care, and raiders have guns too," you snort. "And they have more. So let's hope we can avoid them." "So, do we go without a fire?" Zihr questions. Prourc looks at you. [[Keep the fire low.|3.25NB]] [[Keep the fire bright.|3.25Raiders]]
"We keep it low. Enough to burn the plants and retain some sight of our surroundings, but also be harder to spot by whoever may be roaming around. Hopefully, they get the nightbeasts attention, and we're left alone." <<include "3.25">>
"We keep it high. I'd rather face raiders than nightbeasts, especially at night. We'll just have to hope there aren't any raiders in the area. And if so, we deal with it." <<include "3.25">>
There is little more you can do than that, and <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>seeing that only <<if $guards_dead>>one in your party has<<else>>the two guards in your party have<</if>> any kind of ranged weapon, you'll have to rely on them until circumstances change. Thankfully, there's also $hound.<<else>>seeing that <<if $guards_dead>>at least three<<else>> all<</if>> of you have weapons, you won't be caught unaware. Plus, there's $hound.<</if>> The <<if $guards_dead>>guard sits<<else>>guards sit<</if>> up front with Prourc, Checl <<if $mentor is "alive">>and Zyrith are<</if>> in the wagon, and you, Zihr, and $hound take up the rear. You journey through the rest of the dawn, taking a break near a small watering hole before moving back out. Any conversation that arises swiftly dies minutes later as exhaustion affects all of you. The previous day's excitement has long since vanished, and impatience has taken its place. There is also a feeling of unease plaguing your group. You surmise that once the adrenaline had fled, everyone truly realized what <<if $guards_dead>>had happened to the guard eaten by nemaworms and what could happen to any of you. Perhaps you're calm simply due to the knowledge you possess concerning the guard's death, or maybe you have greater faith in yourself.<<else>>could have happened with those nemaworms. That if one thing had gone wrong, you could all be dead.<</if>> So far, the only beings that seem hell-bent and capable of killing you are nemaworms and a certain vetix. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you let that thought flee your mind. There is a thin line separating confidence from cockiness, and you sometimes feel like you walk said line with a lack of canniness. Only during times like this do you remind yourself to rein yourself in. A stray bullet can kill the most experienced fighter because they believe they control the battlefield at every point. It is far wiser to be cautious and remember that fear still has a purpose in your heart. <a data-passage="3.26"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As the sun sets, you stop to pitch camp for the second time. The action is slow, and once the campfire is erected it's <<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>\ kept low as you suggested.<<else>>kept as high as the one from the previous day.<</if>> The <<if $guards_dead>>guard takes<<else>>guards take<</if>> up a spot right next to the fire while you find that the others all seem to gravitate towards you. You notice this but spare it little attention as you begin cleaning $hound's scales and detoxifying his spit. The process, though not long, requires a specific kind of focus that you mostly fail to have. Not every scale needs excessive scrubbing, but those that do typically are resilient and sometimes may mean something other than just dirt. In the wild, his diet and certain symbiotic parasites would take care of this. The spit is even worse, but at least it's quick. <<if $inv_canisters>>And since you bought those canisters, you'll need to be careful to avoid scarring your hands<<if $scars is "several">> further<</if>> when you collect his saliva.<<else>>If you had empty ammo cartridges and a plasma gun, you could use it as ammo but that'll be something you'll have to think and obtain later.<</if>> <a data-passage="3.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We're almost there," you hear Checl sigh dreamily. Glancing over at her, she lies in the back of the wagon atop a thick blanket, her gaze admiring the nightscape. "Will you ever stop saying that?" Zihr hums, his voice sounding like it teeters on sleep and alertness. <<if $zihrRoPo >=1>>You keep to yourself how attractive he sounds. The low rumble and slight delirium causing you to bite the inside of your cheek as you continue working on $hound.<</if>> "Not until we're there probably," Checl snickers, growing quiet soon after. "You know," Zihr mumbles, yet again ruining the silence that thought itself comfortable. "I never thought I'd ever leave the Outlands, and when I thought about the possibility, it was like any other thing. A dream. A thought. Something I knew would stay in my mind and never amount to anything." "You know," Checl starts, and you hear her shift but don't pause to look as you work out a rock from between two shifting scales along $hound's neck. As soon as it pops out, he purrs his thanks, and you pat his underside while placing a kiss atop his head. "I never asked. I don't know why. But how did you end up in the Dread Outlands? You said you were from the Forsaken Outlands, right?" <<if $humor >=50>>\ "God, they need to let someone else name these Outland posts," you murmur, hearing Checl snort out a laugh and Zihr hum in agreement. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.27.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yea. It was moreso due to my mentor. The gang that took me in, Ivory Sands … I mean, they were like any other gang. Questionable morals, horrible practices, and an unhealthy love for solars. At first, I was fine with it. I could understand some of it because of where we were. You have to be mean to survive amidst bones and sand. But the older I got, the more I saw, the more I couldn't properly excuse. Stealing food from a vendor, fine. Taking occupied rooms because the nightbeasts are stalking outside or to avoid a gunfight, okay. But roughing up innocent people just trying to take groceries home to their kids. Shoving folks into an alley because you're bored and want to have your way. Beating kids up for 'looking at you the wrong way' or pistol-whipping the elderly to death because 'it was their time.' No." Every example he speaks of has his upper lip curling more in disgust, his gaze practically enough to burn pits into the ground. Whether or not he realizes that he does it, he retrieves his dagger and begins to run his hands along it. "I know almost nothing about my family, but … I know they'd stand against that and would want me to do so as well." You raise a brow at that but remain silent. "So, you fled?" Checl inquires and Zihr shakes his head. "I … uh, killed some of the members. They were robbing a family, threatening the kids, and at that point I had enough. I didn't want another dead body on my hands when I could do something about it. I was going to face them, intent on telling them what I did. But my mentor decided that was the time for us to leave. We never looked back. The Dreads is no better. But at least there, I wasn't associated with a gang. It felt like a new start, one that I had far more control over." [[“And look how that turned out.”|3.27HowThatTurnedOut]] [[“Noble intentions, but foolish.”|3.27NobleIntentions][$zihr +=5; $humor -=5]] [[“And thus the preachy raza was born.”|3.27PreachyRaza][$zihr -=5; $humor +=5]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“My hero.”|3.27Hero][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<<else>>[[“My hero.”|3.27Hero][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo +=3]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“That's admirable.”|3.27Admirable][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<<else>>[[“That's admirable.”|3.27Admirable][$zihrRoPo +=1; $zihrRo -=3]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Remain silent.|3.27Silent]]
You hum. "And we all saw how well that turned out." "No thanks to you," Zihr barks defensively. "I can't even begin to count how many times you fucked me or the balance of the Dreads over with your antics." "And you think the real world is going to be nicer? I'm not even doing it to spite you, I'm just unlucky. Wait until you run into the crooked cop or the politician who thinks they own the planet because they have an infinite amount of solars." "Ah, I see," he snorts. "I'm supposed to be thankful to you, because, of course, it was just to teach me how real life will treat me. Great, the world could've taught me that, not someone I considered a friend." Hearing Zihr call you a friend is enough to bring you to a pause. Enough for him to think that he has won the argument, and for you to give it to him. "Think of it however you like," you say, finishing up the cleaning process with $hound. "But your self-righteous attitude is going to meet resistance, and it'll be from those you never thought would be against it." <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++</span><</if>> "Noble intentions, truly, but ultimately foolish." "Oh, fuck off, $name," he growls, and you raise your hands in surrender. "I'm serious." "What do you mean then?" "You wanting to help others is great, really. It's the first step, but also the easiest. If the first step is just deciding you want to help, the next step is throwing yourself off a cliff and willing wings to sprout from your back to carry you to the other side successfully." "So, impossible?" Checl questions and you nod. "Not entirely, but mostly. Yes. There are always people who //want// to help, but they fall short on the being able to part. Take the Outlands as an example." "I'd rather not," he snorts. "I had a cohort that constantly tried to undermine everything I did." "Again, that war was going to happen. I just quickened it up. But not counting that. How many people do you think you saved there?" "I helped plenty," he barks in defense. "Yes, yes, but you helping them for a day didn't really change their position in life. Especially when the very next day, they probably got robbed anyway. Your help extended to the moment. At most, they'll remember the friendly raza who decided not to beat them to a pulp as their next thought is about how they'll find food for the night." "So what? I'm supposed to just not try?" "No," you hum, finishing up with $hound's scales. "I'm not saying that. But perhaps you should temper your expectations." <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "And that, boys and girls," you grin, "is how the nauseatingly, preachy raza first came to be." "Sorry. Did talking about the gangs make you realize how alike you are?" "Don't insult me," you snort. "I'm in a whole different league than them." "And you have the nerve to be proud of that!" he shouts, only quieting down when he hears Prourc's distant grumble. "Don't put words in my mouth. I said they're a different league than me. Nowhere did I brag about how much I enjoy it." <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Oh, my hero," you swoon teasingly, making sure to throw him a sneer to punctuate your point. "Don't make fun of me," Zihr warns. "But you make it so easy. And it's always cute to see you get upset. You truly remind me of one of those knights from the old fairytale stories, declaring themselves a defender of good." "I don't know what a knight is. But if that's their ideals, then I don't see anything wrong with it." "The problem with it is the fairytale part. They didn't exist. And the actual knights that did, probably were just as corrupt as any other." <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"That's admirable." "Don't make fun of me," Zihr warns, and you can't help but chuckle a bit at the false assumption. "No one is making fun of you. I'm being serious, Zihr. Wanting to help others and spread good in the world is an admirable thought. You don't see enough of it these days, and it's something to be proud of." He frowns regardless. "You said thought." "Because that's all it really is. Reality doesn't quite work the same." "Why? Because a small group said so?" "Yes," you say matter-of-factly. "I have no doubt that if you put your mind to it, you can make some change. You're stubborn like that. But until you live in the world that you're trying to change, you're not going to make it far." <a data-passage="3.28"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The story isn't shocking. In fact, if you ever had to guess at Zihr's backstory, then you would've been pretty close. <<if $attitude >=60>>Mostly, you agree with him, even if the past seems to disagree with such truths. But that also leads into the simple truth that you have seen too much to know that wanting to do good is nothing in the grand scheme. It's a start, and that's about it. Anyone can wish to be a better person or to bring about a better world. Some of them go into law enforcement, politics, or some other government-appointed job, and most of them either fail or stick around long enough to become corrupted. It's an old song and dance that you know the lyrics to and, without trying, can perform all the proper steps. One day, Zihr will learn that too.<<else>>You see things differently. You wouldn't say you're like those gang members, but that's because there is a large gap between doing what is necessary for survival and bullying. The latter, even you have an issue with. Zihr would probably disagree. He'd probably say that you either walk the line, teetering into the realm of bullying more than the former, but you also don't give two fucks about what Zihr thinks.<</if>> <<include "3.28">>
Checl clears her throat, undoubtedly trying to shift the mood that always descends when Zihr and you get into a tiff. "$name, are we ever going to learn what caused you to have that kind of outlook on the world?" Zihr snorts. "?He failed to tell us what ?he <<verb "expects">> to find once we reach Taouron. How much do we really know about, $name?" Checl frowns, shying away from the line of questioning though you're curious if it's for your sake or because she abhors the fact that she knows so little. <<if $inv_5canisters and $breed is not "electric">>\ You grab the canisters from your pack and place them beside $hound. Though you haven't checked out of the conversation, you need to be careful here. Putting on gloves, you carefully angle $hound's head and then order him to open up his mouth. His tongue unfurls, and you begin to catch the phlegm that gathers and drips down. <</if>>\ [[Tell them.|3.28TellThem]] [[Keep it that way.|3.28KeepItThatWay]]
<<if $inv_5canisters and $breed is not "electric">>You continue filling the canisters for a moment, as if somewhere in all that toxic liquid, you'll find a suitable enough reply.<<else>>You stare at $hound for a while, as if somewhere between his scales you'll find a reply and will be able to just regurgitate it.<</if>> "My past," you start, speaking slowly as if testing the words out. "Or at least the start to making my way back to it. I have a lot to find out and fix … or more so rectify." "And what happens if you don't?" Checl asks, causing you to pause. "What?" "What happens if you don't find what you're looking for? Or if there's nothing you can do about it?" That had never been a question, though you can't help but ponder if it should. What happens if the Baron and Baroness died or are lost in a sea of bodies? What happens if the Dinami didn't believe Tsering and killed him, exterminating your file? Are you free? Or is it simply a facade that you'll be stuck mulling over for the rest of your life, frantically trying to come up with a suitable conclusion to something that gives your life purpose? "I … I don't know," you mumble, shooing the thought away. What does it mean that it's giving you a headache to think about? "You know," Checl utters in the softest of voices, "I learned that sometimes it's best to just continue into the future. That the past should be kept exactly where it is." You snort, not sure if the feelings bubbling within you are more akin to anger or just the understanding that you're listening to someone who doesn't get it. "Don't tell me to move on, Checl." There was more to add to that sentence. Something more to say to hammer your command home and to make sure she never questioned again. But any response that bubbles to the surface is popped out of sheer fear that your inability to picture such a world exists. A world where you can just … move on. You can let go, and you will, but not until you get those answers and the revenge you have so thoroughly cultivated, which has been building for anywhere between a year to half a decade. <a data-passage="3.29"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $inv_5canisters and $breed is not "electric">>You continue filling the canisters, possessing no intention to answer Checl's question or prove Zihr wrong.<<else>>You stare at $hound for a while, working your way through the understanding that you have no intention of answering Checl or prove Zihr wrong.<</if>> It's best that they don't know for no other reason than it being none of their business. Once you get into Taouron, that's it. You won't be sticking around. This group will be disbanded, at least as far as your presence is concerned. You'll be on your way, seeking answers and a way off the planet. <<include "3.29">>
<<if $inv_5canisters and $breed is not "electric">>\ <<nobr>>\ <<if $breed is "blight" or $breed is "earth">>\ <<set $inv_5canisters to false; $inv_5fullcanisters to true>>\ <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ You finish filling all the canisters and rack your brain for the second ingredient needed. If you remember correctly, <<if $breed is "blood">>the blood aiczeots just needs blood. But the finished concoction isn't used for offensive means as much as it's used to track a target. You're not keen on cutting yourself, especially when the toxin works better when a good deal of blood is mixed in. So, you'll wait for now. The saliva's potency takes a while to grow dull, and it's not like you won't have the source to just redo the process.<<elseif $breed is "blight">>the blight aiczeots needs carbon dioxide, an easy enough thing to supply when you breathe it. The worst part is how close you must be to prevent other chemicals from mixing, and then how quickly you must secure it. Sucking it up, you begin the process, wincing at the smell as you quickly blow into each canister and then quickly screw the top back on.<<elseif $breed is "chaos">>the chaos aiczeots needs some dirt and a specific metal, a common metal that you doubt is supplied in the Spires. Finding it in the city should be easy, but that means you'll have to wait until you arrive. The saliva's potency takes a while to grow dull, and it's not like you won't have the source to just redo the process.<<elseif $breed is "earth">>the earth aiczeots just needs dirt or mud, something you're literally surrounded by most of the time. You take each canister and fill it up with a quarter of space left to allow you to shake it appropriately.<<else>>the spirit aiczeots is easy to remember, mostly because you remember how much you groaned at the idea of wasting money. To activate their toxin, simply drop a solar into each one.<</if>> <<if $breed is "spirit">>\ <<nobr>>\ <<if $solars >=5>>\ <<set $inv_5canisters to false; $inv_5fullcanisters to true>>\ <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ You check the pouch, <<if $solars >=5>>finding that you have enough. It'll cost you five solars, but the toxin is worth it, and if you can't earn back five solars, then you'll never get out of Taouron. You drop a solar into each, fastening the top back on. Now you just need to wait for it to finish.<<else>>finding that you don't have enough. Perfect. You'll have to wait until you can earn some money, find a way to turn it physical, and then start the process. The saliva's potency takes a while to grow dull, and it's not like you won't have the source to just redo the process.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $inv_5fullcanisters>>Now, the problem is your gun. A typical gun won't be able to hold the canisters. No, you'll need a plasma one. You can still loosen them up and throw them but it may not work as intended. You sigh, a problem for the city.<</if>> Finished, you relax. The other two have already drifted off into sleep with the conclusion of your conversation. <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>\ Your gaze flits to Checl, her head resting on Zihr's shoulder with most of the blanket that the two chose to share, covering Checl. The two have always had a brother-sister-like relationship, ever since Zihr walked her home that day from the cantina and Checl begged him to join you. That never bothered you like it should've. You didn't like Checl in a sibling way, nor did you view her in such a light. You have only ever wanted her in a more intimate way. Why is a question you're not wholly able to answer. You won't be sticking around, and your fear will always outweigh your feelings. But, yet again, you're not exactly sure what that fear is, and answering it isn't something you want to think over. <<elseif $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ Your gaze flits to Zihr, his back resting against a rock with Checl's head on his shoulder. Most of the blanket the two share covers Checl. The two have always had a brother-sister-like relationship, ever since Zihr walked her home that day from the cantina and Checl begged him to join you. Luckily for you, your relationship started before that, the day you stole his dagger. The two of you have grown friendlier, but hardly. Where before he may have counted you as an enemy, he now just counts you as an acquaintance. It has never //outright// bothered you that he probably views you in such a light. At the very most, you have only ever found him attractive, and at the very least, wanted a nice tumble through the sheets. You'll probably never get the latter, but wishful thinking has never hurt anyone. <<else>>\ You yawn and choose to readjust your position in hopes that it will aid you in staying awake. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ From there, the conversation peeters out until it dies and the two of them seem to grow bored enough to drift off into sleep. <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>\ Your gaze flits to Checl, her head resting on Zihr's shoulder with most of the blanket that the two chose to share, covering Checl. The two have always had a brother-sister-like relationship, ever since Zihr walked her home that day from the cantina and Checl begged him to join you. That never bothered you like it should've. You didn't like Checl in a sibling way, nor did you view her in such a light. You have only ever wanted her in a more intimate way. Why is a question you're not wholly able to answer. You won't be sticking around, and your fear will always outweigh your feelings. But, yet again, you're not exactly sure what that fear is, and answering it isn't something you want to think over. <<elseif $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ Your gaze flits to Zihr, his back resting against a rock with Checl's head on his shoulder. Most of the blanket the two share covers Checl. The two have always had a brother-sister-like relationship, ever since Zihr walked her home that day from the cantina and Checl begged him to join you. Luckily for you, your relationship started before that, the day you stole his dagger. The two of you have grown friendlier, but hardly. Where before he may have counted you as an enemy, he now just counts you as an acquaintance. It has never //outright// bothered you that he probably views you in such a light. At the very most, you have only ever found him attractive, and at the very least, wanted a nice tumble through the sheets. You'll probably never get the latter, but wishful thinking has never hurt anyone. <<else>>\ You yawn and choose to readjust your position in hopes that it will aid you in staying awake. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.29.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Staring at the fire, you blink. And the next time you open your eyes<<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>, the fire has almost died and $hound is pacing back and forth, keeping the nightbeasts that have arrived, back.<<else>> it's due to the sounds of voices. You push the grogginess down and remain still, calmly and quietly ordering a waking $hound to do the same. Listening, you can hear them clearly now, raiders. You attracted raiders.<</if>> "Shit," you grumble, trying to figure out where the time has gone. You remember telling yourself that you were only blinking. How did it lead to this kind of negligence? <<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>><<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>The ebbing fire causes moderate eyes to diminish in strength, and you must squint to tell how many nightbeasts will need to be dealt with.<<else>>Despite the ebbing fire, your eyesight remains sharp as you stare at the nightbeasts.<</if>><<else>>At the very least, the fire is bright enough to light up a significant portion of the perimeter, giving you full view of the raiders.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>Two have decided to linger, hoping their patience will be rewarded. The eye-less creatures' heads bob from side to side, chittering to one another as they inch closer. You don't know how much time you have until that happens.<<else>>There's four of them in all, two are hovering over <<if $mentor is "alive">>Prourc and Zyrith, tying them up to keep them from waking the rest of you.<<else>>Prourc, tying him up to keep him from waking the rest of you.<</if>> The other two busy themselves with looking through Prourc's wagon.<</if>> <a data-passage="3.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>\ Your first and main concern is waking Prourc so that you have some kind of way to get out of here. Zihr rises before you make it over to the zeach, already alert, as he glances toward the noise. He deduces what happened and immediately goes into action<<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>, though without guns you don't know what for.<<else>>.<</if>> Once at Prourc's side, you touch his shoulder, attempting to remain calm. "Nightbeasts, get up." He starts to shoot forward, but you slow his ascension. "Slowly. It's cliché, but they're drawn to fear." "It's what?" You're about to repeat the word when you realize there's probably no translation for it in his language, and you don't have time for a language lesson. You move away, and he shifts to wake Checl, repeating what you told him as they quickly head toward the wagon. It all feels too similar to your previous night. <<if $guards_dead>>You at least have another figure to willingly give them. The thought drags your eye to the guard who is still rising, highly confused as they slowly come to the realization of what is happening.<<else>>The slowest to rise are the guards, appearing highly confused before finally coming to the realization of what is happening.<</if>> "I can't see shit," the raza guard yells, scrambling for their weapon as Zihr comes to your side. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Can you?" he asks. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>"I can't. And your<<else>>"I can. Your<</if>> eyesight in the dark -" You don't finish the sentence, giving him a chance to do so. "Is shit, and the fact that we don't have weapons makes me feel useless." "You still have that pretty blade of yours. Don't tell me you don't know how to use it." "Whether I did or not, it doesn't seem like I have much choice." That much is correct. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>But you're unsure how you'll get out of this one with no casualties. None of you can see, leaving $hound the only true fighter. If the <<if $guards_dead>>guard decides<<else>>two guards decide<</if>> to be idiotic and fire blindly, who knows what or who they'll hit. No, this won't end well.<<else>>Out of all the fighters, you're the only one who can see. You want to let out the longest curse in the world. <<if $guards_dead>>One person with a gun who won't be able to use it<<else>>Two people with guns that won't be able to use them<</if>> because they'll barely be able to see once the fire is completely out. Attempting to light it will not only be foolish but a waste.<</if>> <<else>>\ "Can you?" he asks, readying his gun. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>"I can't. And your<<else>>"I can. Your<</if>> eyesight in the dark -" You don't finish the sentence, giving him a chance to do so. "Is shit." You want to let out the longest curse in the world. <<if $markings is "red" or $markings is "gold">>But you're unsure how you'll get out of this one with no casualties. None of you can see, leaving $hound the only true fighter. If the <<if $guards_dead>>guard decides<<else>>two guards decide<</if>> to be idiotic and fire blindly, who knows what or who they'll hit. No, this won't end well.<<else>><<if $guards_dead>>Two<<else>>Three<</if>> people with guns that won't be useful because they'll barely be able to see once the fire eventually dies. Attempting to light it will not only be foolish but a waste.<</if>> <</if>>\ The nightbeasts attack. <a data-passage="3.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ At this exact moment, none of them are worried about the rest of you. Well, that's not entirely true. The raiders that had tied up Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zyrith<</if>> are now approaching the still slumbering <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> You feel $hound shift, he won't act without your command, but his impatience does raise a good point. You need a plan, and the time to come up with one is quickly ticking down. Acting now will cause everything to explode into action; the probability of casualties is high, but at least you get to act on your own terms. Waiting for them to come closer allows you the element of surprise, but you're not exactly sure what the other two raiders will be doing at that time. Two against two is great, but four against two, not so much. You could also attempt to wake up Zihr, but there's a chance he'll give you both away. [[Let them get closer.|3.30GetCloser]] [[Wake up Zihr.|3.30WakeZihr]] [[Act now.|3.30ActNow]] <</if>>\
You carefully shift, just enough to properly nudge Zihr without alerting the others to your movement. You do it just harsh enough to give Zihr an idea of who did it, but also to avoid him waking up and immediately cussing you out. He stirs, a scowl appearing on his face as he narrows his gaze on you and begins to shift. Shaking your head quickly, you rest your finger to your lips and can only hope that he'll get the picture. Thankfully, the raiders near the wagon are making enough noise for someone with his level of hearing to hear. Zihr's eyes widen, but he remains frozen, questioning you with his gaze. Subtly, you flash him four fingers, then show him two behind him to the right, then another two to the left. Nodding, he seems to relax, but you can see his hand moving to something at his side. You have him and $hound at your disposal now, but that still leaves you in the awkward position of trying to find a way to bring them down. The only life that is truly important is Prourc's. Without him, getting through the gates of Taouron won't be possible. At the very least, Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zyrith<</if>> look like <<if $mentor is "alive">>they've<<else>>he's<</if>> only been tied up, the raiders probably not considering <<if $mentor is "alive">>them<<else>>him<</if>> a threat. The two raiders are approaching now. As inconspicuously as you can, you shift, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>grabbing your blade and hoping that this scenario plays out well. Most—if not all—of your trust lies in $hound taking them out as quickly as possible.<<else>>grabbing the grip of your gun and preparing.<</if>> After you set this in motion, the other two will be alerted, and all of this will be more based on speed than on skill. Taking a deep breath in, you shift enough for $hound to get the picture and surge forward. <a data-passage="3.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As inconspicuously as you can, you shift, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>grabbing your blade and hoping that this scenario plays out well. Most—if not all—of your trust lies in $hound taking them out as quickly as possible.<<else>>grabbing the grip of your gun and preparing.<</if>> After you set this in motion, the other two will be alerted, and all of this will be more based on speed than on skill. You watch as they finally make it to the <<if $guards_dead>>guard. They cover their mouth, and the other restrains them, before one seems to pause at something. You then catch sight of a blade, and watch as they slice the raza's neck. You wait. You wanted both guards gone anyway, might as well let another aggressor handle this one to keep your hands mostly clean. The raiders are at least smart enough to continue covering their mouth as they frantically shift, hoping to somehow cure a mortal wound. They stand and then gaze over in your direction, whispering something as one gestures to the three of you. Now, it's time.<<else>>guards. You had forgotten about their existence for a moment, they'll at least be helpful in this next bit.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ Taking a deep breath in, you shift enough for $hound to get the picture and surge forward. You focus on the raider closest to you, since $hound is handling the other. They try to shoot you, but you manage to get close enough to where firing would be crazy, and easily manage to bury your blade into their side. They kick you away, moaning in pain as they gaze at the item now planted inside, probably trying to figure out if it was wise to take it out or not. The raider decides to keep it in, but you decide that you'd rather have your blade back. Using your shoulder, you knock into them, both of you go tumbling, and you manage to snatch your blade out just as they bring the butt of their pistol down onto the side of your shoulder. You hiss, tightening your grip on the blade as you twist and slide it across their throat. You watch as they futilely clutch their throat, as if the gesture would ensure that the gushing blood would stay where it's meant to be. One last glance, you turn, searching and finding the other two raiders who are skirmishing with a now awake Zihr. <<else>>\ Taking a deep breath in, you shift enough for $hound to get the picture and surge forward. You focus on the raider closest to you, since $hound is handling the other. They try to shoot you, but you manage to get close enough to where firing would be crazy, and hit them across the face with the butt of your pistol. They're dazed for only a moment before tripping you, yet again aiming as you roll out of the way, but feel a bullet graze your arm. <<if $markings is "purple">>\ Due to the angle and the natural hardiness of your skin, it's not as bad as it could've been. The wound is more like a dramatic bruise, with blood pooling under the skin but never breaching the area. The two of you exchange blows, but in the end, you have the upper hand and manage to get a lucky pop off with your gun. Their blood splatters across your face, but you have no time to stop and consider diseases or just how gruesome you appear. You turn, searching and finding the other two raiders who are skirmishing with a now awake Zihr. <<else>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $injury_arm to true>>\ <</nobr>>\ Gritting your teeth, you push yourself up and lunge for the raider, aiming for their lower half and sending them to the ground. The numbness will kick in sooner or later, making this short-lived pain irrelevant. The two of you exchange blows, but in the end, you have the upper hand and manage to get a lucky pop off with your gun. Their blood splatters across your face, but you have no time to stop and consider diseases or just how gruesome you appear. You turn, searching and finding the other two raiders who are skirmishing with a now awake Zihr. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You watch as they start overpowering the guards, and it becomes a schoolyard scrap, neither side looking like they're gaining the upper hand. Whistling, you command $hound to the last two raiders, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>letting him take the lead since you're not exactly keen on the prospect of bringing a knife to a gunfight.<<else>>grabbing your pistol and popping off a shot before the raider you're aiming at can be any wiser to you.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You decide to let them get closer and formulate a plan centered on stealth. You'll wait until they are hovering right over you before signaling $hound to pounce while doing the same. You behave as if you're still tired, lying there motionless as you watch them with the <<if $guards_dead>>guard. They cover their mouth, and the other restrains them, before one seems to pause at something. You then catch sight of a blade, and watch as they slice the raza's neck. The raiders are at least smart enough to continue covering their mouth as they frantically shift, hoping to somehow cure a mortal wound. They stand and then gaze over in your direction, whispering something as one gestures to the three of you.<<else>>guards. You hadn't really taken into account what the two of them would do. If they engage, then you'll have little choice but to do the same. It's a better route anyway, seeing that the two of them can handle the raiders closest to them while you narrow your focus on the two raiders near the wagon.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ It doesn't matter what they decide, to keep or kill you; you're planning for them to both go down before either can enact anything. They draw near, and as inconspicuously as you can, you shift, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>, grabbing your blade and hoping that this scenario plays out well. Most—if not all—of your trust lies in $hound taking them out as quickly as possible.<<else>>grabbing the grip of your gun and preparing.<</if>> After you set this in motion, the other two will be alerted, and all of this will be more based on speed than on skill. One heads towards Checl and Zihr; the other to you, with some rope in their hands. Well, that made this easier. As soon as the raider is within striking distance, you attack. Kicking out, aiming for their knee, you listen to them shout in both surprise and pain as they drop to the ground. Hopefully, that wakes the others. You surge forward, punching them in the jaw before <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>digging your blade in their neck in a much more savage way than their partner did to the raza.<<else>>pressing your pistol to their temple and pulling the trigger. Their blood splatters across your face, but you have no time to stop and consider diseases or just how gruesome you appear. You turn, searching and finding the other two raiders who are skirmishing with a now awake Zihr.<</if>> Glancing over at the others, you see Zihr now grappling with the other one, and $hound already handling the two raiders near the wagon. "Get to Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zyrith<</if>>. We need that dhole ready to go." It takes her a minute to register your words, shock still maintaining its hold on her senses. If you were closer, you'd push her, but you don't have time for the detour as you head towards $hound. <a data-passage="3.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ You watch as they start overpowering the guards, and it becomes a schoolyard scrap, neither side looking like they're gaining the upper hand. It doesn't matter; all the noise they're making makes it impossible to stay where you are and continue acting ignorant. Whistling, you command $hound to the last two raiders, <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>letting him take the lead since you're not exactly keen on the prospect of bringing a knife to a gunfight.<<else>>grabbing your pistol and popping off a shot before the raider you're aiming at can be any wiser to you.<</if>> <a data-passage="3.30.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if hasVisited("3.30WakeZihr")>>\ <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Shit!" the guards shout just as you and Zihr both reach the same one. Your dagger lands in the raider's chest, while his is buried somewhere in the raider's ribcage. His partner finds himself in an even worse predicament as $hound is now atop of him, mauling him to death. A familiar scream tells you that Checl is now up and has figured out what is going on. The two other raiders abandon their previous task and pull their guns, shooting at you and Zihr as you hastily get to cover, dragging Checl along. "What's going on?!" she shouts, but you ignore her, looking for the last two raiders and finding that they're using the best cover out here, the wagon. "Get to Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zyrith<</if>>," Zihr orders, pushing Checl on her path. "Tell them to hitch up the dhole so we can get out of here." "$name." "Yea, I know," you grumble. You're going up against two guys wielding guns, with blades. $hound awaits a command, but you're not sure what kind of guns they have; certain ones can rip past an aiczeots natural armor, and if he dies out here, you won't be happy. Speaking of guns … If Zihr had the same idea as you, he's too slow to act on it. You leave cover to retrieve the now dead raider's weapon before ducking behind a large enough rock. The new angle gives you an excellent view of your two assailants, and you're able to shoot one without worry, but the other is now aware of your position, plus you doubt you killed the other. They fire a few rounds at the rock, and you're forced to retake cover, wondering if Zihr has decided to use his brain and flank them yet. Peering out, you don't see him, and so you go more with the former than the latter. You shift back over to your original cover, hoping that your constant moving is grabbing their attention enough for Prourc and Zihr to do what they have to do. <<else>>\ "Shit!" the guards shout just as you and Zihr both aim towards the same one. Your shot lands in the raider's chest, while his is buried somewhere in the raider's ribcage. His partner finds himself in an even worse predicament as $hound is now atop of him, mauling him to death. A familiar scream tells you that Checl is now up and has figured out what is going on. The two other raiders abandon their previous task and pull their guns, shooting at you and Zihr as you hastily get to cover, dragging Checl along. "What's going on?!" she shouts, but you ignore her, looking for the last two raiders and finding that they're using the best cover out here, the wagon. "Get to Prourc<<if $mentor is "alive">> and Zyrith<</if>>," Zihr orders, pushing Checl on her path. "Tell them to hitch up the dhole so we can get out of here." Zihr then turns to you. "You ready?" "I don't know how much I got left in my clip," you grumble, wishing to pop it but choosing against it. "We just have to keep them distracted for a little while." The way he says it makes you believe that he doubts his own words, and honestly, you can't blame him. You're relying on Checl getting over to Prourc, then them hitching the dhole up in haste. Neither of them are good under pressure. Mentally counting down, you finally shoot, hearing someone shout in pain as more shots join your previous. Neither of you are able to get a shot off like you were, and you're forced to consider if the raiders have charged weapons and not ones relying on clips and magazines. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<elseif hasVisited("3.25Raiders")>>\ <<if $guards_dead>>\ You aid $hound, forcing the second raider to take cover as $hound continues mauling into the other. You're not able to land any real shots as they take cover, but you don't care about killing this one, just getting out of here. At the end of the day, your side won. If they are all that survives this ordeal then they should count themselves lucky and figure out how to break the news to the rest of their group. If they die, well ... "$name," Zihr shouts, taking a position against the wagon. "Checl is helping with the wagon. $hound has one of the raiders pinned, probably dead by now. Leaving one left, but he's in cover." you tell him. He nods and rounds the wagon, probably to either flush the last one out or to flank them. You wait to see if they show themselves, preparing yourself. <<else>>\ As far as you know, that leaves one last raider to deal with, though they may have a front row seat to $hound tearing into their partner, not exactly a nice sight. From your current position, you can't see them and you're in no rush to shift around to find them. "Zihr!" you shout and when you don't hear anything back, you surmise that he's probably fighting the last one then. Less work for you. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>$hound attacks the one closest to him while the second charges towards you. The <<if $guards_dead>>last remaining guard takes a shot, the first missing and the second hits, but does nothing more than piss the creature off.<<else>> guards each take two shots, but if they even hit, they don't do much to sway the beast off its course.<</if>>You have nothing more than a blade, not entirely useless but wholly dangerous up against a nightbeast. The truth is simple, an irrefutable fact. You can't win this, and the only way to make it out of here with your life is to flee. That is, if you can escape the raging creature right in front of you.<<else>>$hound goes after one while you grab your gun and open fire on the second, shooting two shots, both landing on highly armored hide. The creature tears towards you, and Zihr takes a chance at landing his own shots, but it continues on its path. You attempt to dodge, avoiding the nightbeast, and barely miss being kicked by its back legs. Your ability to evade its attacks seems to anger it further. It rips around, rearing up, but before it can pound the ground, Zihr fires. You surmise that he hit a sensitive spot as its attention is redirected. After another set of rounds, the beast continues, caring little for the bombardment as it sets itself upon Zihr. It screeches just as it hits him, sending his body soaring to the side.<</if>> <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ [[Attack.|3.30Attack][$injury_leg to true]] [[Dodge.|3.30Dodge]] <<else>>\ <<nobr>>\ <<set $zihrinjured to true>> <</nobr>>\ "Fuck this thing!" the raza guard howls, taking shot after shot. Thankfully the shots aren't for nothing. The nightbeast roars and turns to charge toward them, allowing you to go after Zihr. Once there, you help him to his feet, glancing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> "This is pointless," you growl. "We need to get you out of here." "I'm okay," he grumbles, but you ignore him. <<if $zihrRoPo >=1>>\ "You know how I know that's a lie? Because you're letting me help you." <<if $zihrRo >=50>>\ "Maybe I just wanted you-" he starts to say in an out of character voice, but then his words trail off as if realizing just what he was about to say regardless of it being mocking. You can't help but laugh, even with remembering the precarious situation that you're all in. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you." "Shut up," he growls just as you get him to the wagon before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <<else>>\ "You haven't said anything outrageous either," he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear. "And you're helping me." There is a slight pause to your step, one that isn't obvious but there nonetheless. You aren't exactly sure what you expected Zihr to say, if anything at all. Thankfully, you're not allowed to think about it as you finally get him over to the wagon before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ At last, you make it to the awaiting wagon, helping him onto it before gazing back at the <<if $guards_dead>>guard.<<else>>guards.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\ <</if>>\
You have only a moment to decide what to do, and you choose to attack. Waiting until the last minute, you dive out of the way, avoiding its flailing limbs. Your grip tightens on the weapon, and you plunge it into the ankle of the creature. It comes down, but not before pounding you with its two mid-section legs. You grit your teeth as the pain shoots through your leg. In moments like this, you wish your body’s numbing abilities acted quicker. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Hey, I'm here," Zihr tells you, and you have to force yourself to blink a few times to figure out where he had come from. The nightbeast is no longer concerned with you; the guard seemed to have landed a lucky shot to the side of its face. "I'll get you to the wagon and then go back," Zihr tells you, but you shake your head, grabbing his arm tightly. "No. We're leaving." "The guard -" he starts, but you cut him off. "Is bait. We're leaving." <<if $zihr >=50>>\ He looks from you to the guard, who is still so caught up in fighting that they don't realize what's about to happen. "This isn't right," he mumbles but continues to move forward, helping you into the wagon. "We just condemned them to death." "If you think you can save everyone, then you're wrong. Sometimes, a sacrifice here and there is required to win in the end." "Then what's the point of it all?" he asks. You shrug, "the path paved to victory is splattered in blood or some shit like that." You perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <<else>>\ He shakes his head, "this isn't right." "We can talk about moral conundrums later. If we stay, then we're all dead." You remove yourself from his grip and limp towards the wagon, wanting to sigh when you don't feel his presence behind you. "Do you want to find out about your family and past?" You knew using that to get what you want would piss him off, but it would also bring things back into perspective for him. And though he gives you a dirty look, he moves forward. Once at the wagon, you perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <</if>>\ "Wait!" the guard barks, shooting a few more shots, "wait for me." "Prourc," you shout to the zeach, "go." He wastes no time, and the wagon lurches forward, both nightbeasts surrounding the screaming guard left for dead. Zihr may not like it, but you got what you want. You're guaranteed a spot into Taouron now. <<else>>\ "Hey, I'm here," Zihr tells you, and you have to force yourself to blink a few times to figure out where he had come from. The nightbeast is no longer concerned with you, but one of the guards seems to have landed a smart shot to the side of its face. "I'll get you to the wagon and then go back," Zihr tells you, helping you to the wagon's edge. As soon as he leaves your side, you check out your leg. It could've been worse. It would've broken bones if the creature had used its two forelegs. "Are you alright?" Checl questions, parting the curtains to look at you. "Fine. Just be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." She nods and turns back around. The three of them attacking the beast together actually manage to get it down, and $hound has already wounded the prey he was after. Both are injured, making it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as all three of them are darting towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is a piece of the injured nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall, taking deep breaths as you focus on the healing process. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Close quarters combat with a nightbeast is anything but a good time. Slowing your reaction speed to attack is even more foolish to you than the alternative, running. You dodge before the creature can get too close, skidding across the ground and then making to rise before dropping back down, just barely avoiding its flailing limbs. Its head lunges towards you, teeth snapping at air as it attempts to grab you in its jaws. You kick out on its next pass, landing a hit right under its eye. You believe it rears back and roars due to you but when it turns, you find Zihr behind it, using his blade to stab repeatedly at its hind-legs. The warning is on the tip of your tongue but its too late to utter it as the beast kicks out, sending Zihr flying across the sands. Thankfully, the <<if $guards_dead>>guard fires<<else>>guards fire<</if>> off another round of bullets, drawing the creature's attention as you rush towards Zihr. <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Can you walk?" you question, but he's unable to answer as he's gasping. The nightbeast kicked the air out of him, unsurprising but still rendering him unhelpful. You help get him to his feet and set off toward the wagon. Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Go." "Is everyone ready?" Prourc asks, and you exchange a glance with him. "Go." He realizes what's happening and nods, cracking the reins as the dhole starts to move forward. You return to Zihr, who frantically points towards the guard still fighting. <<if $humor >=50>>"Oh, right. Thanks, Zihr." You let out a sharp whistle, gaining $hound's attention. He abandons the fight and rushes after you. You don't need to look down to know that Zihr is glaring at you.<<else>>You ignore him, letting out a sharp whistle, gaining $hound's attention. He abandons the fight and rushes after you. You don't need to look down to know that Zihr is glaring at you.<</if>> "You're…" he attempts, his voice sounding hoarse, "you're killing them." "I am." It must be how you say it because Zihr ends his round of questioning there. You watch as the nightbeasts surround the guard left for dead. Zihr may not like it, but you got what you want. You're guaranteed a spot into Taouron now. <<else>>\ "Can you walk?" you question, but he's unable to answer as he's gasping. The nightbeast kicked the air out of him, unsurprising but still rendering him unhelpful. You help get him to his feet and set off toward the wagon. Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." They nod. The guards attacking the beast together manage to get it down, though the terran one gets injured due to maintaining most of its focus. $hound has already wounded the prey he was after, and with both injured, it makes it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as all three of them are darting towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is now a dead nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>\ <<if $guards_dead>>\ "I'll be fine," Zihr reassures you. "Go and help them." You snort. "No." "What?" "We're leaving." <<if $zihr >=50>>\ He looks from you to the guard, who is still so caught up in fighting that they don't realize what's about to happen. "This isn't right," he mumbles but continues to move forward, helping you into the wagon. "We just condemned them to death." "If you think you can save everyone, then you're wrong. Sometimes a sacrifice here and there is required to win in the end." "Then what's the point of it all?" he asks. You shrug. "The path paved to victory is splattered in blood or some shit like that." You perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <<else>>\ He shakes his head. "This isn't right." "We can talk about moral conundrums later. If we stay, then we're all dead." You remove yourself from his grip and limp towards the wagon, wanting to sigh when you don't feel his presence behind you. "Do you want to find out about your family and past?" You knew using that to get what you want would piss him off, but it would also bring things back into perspective for him. And though he gives you a dirty look, he moves forward. Once at the wagon, you perform a sharp whistle, and $hound abandons the nightbeast he's fighting to catch up with you. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ Once you ensure he's secure, you get in and head to the front where the curtain rests, parting it to see the two waiting zeaches. "Be ready to leave when you hear me whistle." They nod. The guards attacking the beast together manage to get it down, though the terran one gets injured due to maintaining most of its focus. $hound has already wounded the prey he was after, and with both injured, it makes it nigh impossible for them to chase you. "Hey!" you shout to them, "let's go." You don't have to repeat yourself as they both dart towards you, the beasts limping to give chase. You perform a shrill whistle to get $hound's attention, and he releases what you can only assume is now a dead nightbeast to catch up with you. At the same time, the wagon lurches forward, picking up speed as you get farther away from the pursuing beast, who soon makes the wise decision to give up. With a sigh, you place your head on the wagon's wall. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "Psst," you hear, turning just slightly to see Prourc sitting on the wagon, beckoning for you to hurry. Well, there goes your escape. You call $hound to your side and haphazardly grab onto rope resting on the side of the wagon. Placing your foot on one of the open bars near the front wheel, you pound your fist on the side, reassuring Prourc that you're ready. <<if $guards_dead is false>>Everyone else is on their own.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ You hear the raiders continue to shoot, but now it sounds like only one gun goes off as the wagon begins to move away; its pace slow as it gradually picks up. By the time you get far enough away, you see what's left of the camp. The fire has begun to dwindle, and there is very little movement surrounding it. One raider is most definitely gone; you can easily pin that death on $hound. The second body, you can't actually see from your current position, and the last two don't seem to be dead as much as injured. And yet, when that fire dies down, they'll wish they were. <<else>>\ You hear the raiders continue to shoot, but now it sounds like only one gun goes off as the wagon begins to move away; its pace slow as it gradually picks up. By the time you get far enough away, you see what's left of the camp. The fire has begun to dwindle, and there is very little movement surrounding it. One raider is most definitely gone; you can easily pin that death on $hound. It seems like the guards at least won their fight, though you can't tell if the others are injured or actually dead. And yet, when that fire dies down, they'll wish they were. <</if>>\ It is easy to imagine what they thought when they first pulled up on their speeders. Easy pickings. They probably believed they struck the treasure trove of goods and that you were all just another bunch of dumbass Outlanders who didn't know the rules of the Spires. Now, whichever raider group they belonged to will find themselves with four fewer people. You hum, tightening your hold on the rope as the wagon races on. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
It feels like forever before the wagon slows. "Is it safe to stop?" Prourc asks. <<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>\ "No," you answer, getting out the back and looking around. "But it doesn't really matter." The sun hasn't yet risen, but the shifting tones of the sky tell you that it'll happen soon. <<if $guards_dead>>You can feel Zihr's gaze scorching the back of your head, and you continue to ignore him. It's done. Staring at you will not save the guard or relieve him of whatever moral plight he finds himself sinking in.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ The <<if $mentor is "alive">>other three walk up and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<<else>>two zeaches approach and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<</if>> as he looks you and Zihr over. "Was that the plan?" You shrug and ask, "Did it mess up anything you have planned for yourself?" Instead of verbally answering you, he nods, seeming to be content. If only Zihr could do the same. "You're alright with that?" he questions. "$name left someone for dead, and you're okay with that?!" "Better them than us," Prourc huffs, done with the conversation. "Unless one of you has a problem with it, we'll stay here and have a quick rest." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <<else>>\ The <<if $mentor is "alive">>other three walk up and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<<else>>two zeaches approach and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<</if>> as he looks you and Zihr over, then turns his gaze to the guards. "Everyone looks to be okay." "Yea, we're good," <<if $injury_leg>>you tell him though you're staring at the large bruise that seems to be growing in size. It'll heal by the time you get to Taouron.<<else>>you tell him as you gaze around at this new area.<</if>> "Unless one of you has a problem with it. We'll stay here and have a quick rest." "And risk getting attacked by more nightbeasts?" the terran guard questions. "We're at risk whether we stay here or not," you tell them. "Better to let the dhole regain some energy instead of making it charge into another issue." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "No," you answer, getting out the back and looking around. "But it doesn't really matter." The sun hasn't yet risen, but the shifting tones of the sky tell you that it'll happen soon. <<if $guards_dead>>You watch Zihr as he gazes around, looking a bit shocked and stunned at whatever he's coming to grips with.<</if>> <<if $guards_dead>>\ "Both of the guards ended up dying," Zihr points out, just as <<if $mentor is "alive">>the other three walk up.<<else>>the two zeaches approach.<</if>> "Makes this all easier," you say with a shrug, realizing too late who your audience is. "Ah," Prourc smirks, "was that your plan this entire time?" You shrug and ask, "Did it mess up anything you have planned for yourself?" Instead of verbally answering you, he nods, seeming to be content. If only Zihr could do the same. "You're alright with that?" he questions. "$name purposely let two people die, and you're fine with that?" Zihr pauses, visually bristling as he narrows his eyes on you. "Did you push that guard off the cart?" "Better them than us," Prourc huffs, answering for you and putting an end to the conversation. "Unless one of you has a problem with it, we'll stay here and have a quick rest." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <<else>>\ The <<if $mentor is "alive">>other three walk up and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<<else>>two zeaches approach and join your side, Prourc huffing heavily<</if>> as he looks you and Zihr over, then turns his gaze to the guards. "Everyone looks to be okay." "Yea, we're good," you tell him <<if $injury_leg>>though you're staring at the large bruise on your leg that seems to be growing in size. It'll heal by the time you get to Taouron.<<elseif $injury_arm>>as you're reminded of your injury. You gaze at your arm and predict that it'll heal by the time you make it to Taouron.<<else>>as you gaze around at this new area.<</if>> "Unless one of you has a problem with it. We'll stay here and have a quick rest." "And risk getting attacked by more <<if hasVisited("3.25NB")>>nightbeasts<<else>>raiders<</if>>?" the terran guard questions. "We're at risk whether we stay here or not," you tell them. "Better to let the dhole regain some energy instead of making it charge into another issue." No one says anything more, and it seems like that's decided. While everyone else attempts to sleep, you stay up with $hound just as attentive beside you. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $injury_leg or $injury_arm or $zihrinjured>>\ <a data-passage="3.30.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <<else>>\ <a data-passage="3.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if $injury_leg or $injury_arm>>\ While everyone recovers from the attack, you look over your newest <<if $injury_leg>>bruise<<else>>injury<</if>>. Years of possessing this ability, and you still aren't quite used to seeing the grim consequences of not being quick or sharp enough, and yet, not actually feeling the pain. In the moment, it's there, but then comes the numbness, and after that, you can do nothing more than pray that your body's healing can repair whatever is happening. One day ... one day you know you'll sustain an injury that your abilities won't be able to heal, and you'll be none the wiser. A double-edged sword, like everything else about you. "That doesn't look good," Checl points out, coming to your <<$injury_leg>> side and kneeling. She eyes the bruise with unease. "Is it supposed to look that enlarged or that color?"<<else>>side and carefully taking your arm into her talons. She eyes the wound with unease. "Is it supposed to be that color?"<</if>> You open your mouth to question her lack of knowledge about <<$injury_leg>>bruises<<else>>bullet injuries<</if>>, but then close it upon remembering that she <<$injury_leg>>probably has never received anything greater than a minor one. Anything bigger would mean she had taken a nasty fall or gotten into an altercation, neither of which was her style. The only time you can even think of her obtaining any bruises is the time between her captured and put on smuggling ships to get her to the Outlands and sold to the stupidest bidder. You dobut they would want their 'goods' damaged during that time. Still it's an odd thought.<<else>>has never received one and you're not usually around her when you get yours. That, and it's usually hidden just so she can't fuss over you when she does see you.<</if>> "It's fine," you reassure her. The numbness has already kicked in, and now all you must do is wait. <<$injury_arm>>You've received plenty of bullet wounds, it's not a matter of //if// your abilities with successfully heal it and more so //when.// You sigh, it may leave a scar though. It was only but a graze, you should be fine, but you'll see.<</if>> "You don't always have to act brave." [[“I'm fine.”|3.30Fine]] [[“Act?”|3.30Act]] [[“No need in front of you.”|3.30NoNeed]] <<else>>\ While everyone recovers from the attack, you seek out Zihr, finding him leaning on the side of Prourc's wagon. He swiftly goes from holding his injured side to standing upright, grimmacing but attempting to look nonchalant, as soon as he senses you approaching. You slow, having no intention of being upbraided for the simple act of coming over to make sure he was still functional. Yet, his face tells you that is exactly what he plans on doing. He reminds you more of a predator that has tripped over his own folly and whose pride is now the most injured thing he possesses. You nod to his side. "Did you look over the damage?" If he had been a bit more primal he would've bared his teeth. "Did you come over here to chastise me about being injured?" [[“Now that you mention it.”|3.30MentionIt]] [[“I came to make sure you were okay.”|3.30Okay]] [[“Fuck you.” Walk away.|3.30FUWalkAway]] [[Just keep walking past.|3.30WalkAway]] <</if>>\
"Checl." "There's nothing wrong with asking others for help and then accepting the help they offer." "Checl," you repeat, but she continues on. "You won't be judged. None of us would think less of you. In fact, we may even end up feeling better about ourselves." Anyone else and you would believe them to be ignoring you on purpose, not Checl. She's probably so deep within her own thoughts that she has forgotten what started her down this path. <<if $checl_touch>>\ "Look at this, $name. This looks bad." <<$injury_leg>>She reaches towards your leg as if to feel around the area,<<else>>Her grip on your arm tightens as she moves to feel around the area,<</if>> but you snatch her wrist, ceasing her actions as she freezes and stares at you. "I'm fine." <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>She stares at you for a beat too long, and you realize that you have yet to release her wrist. <<if $checlRo >=50>>Worse, is coming to the conclusion that you do not wish to let go. You have always liked the feeling of her hand in yours, the softness of her pads soon interrupted by the sharp and rigid material of her light slate-grey talons.<<else>>You jerk your hand back, grimacing at the part of you that chastises you on such an action. The part that admits how it wished to prolong the moment if just a little longer.<</if>> <</if>>Checl says nothing about it, her smile soft yet distant and sad. "As long as you're fine," she mumbles, rising and walking away. You fight the need to call her back and form some kind of sufficient explanation, ignoring the fact that one doesn't exist. <<else>>\ "Checl!" you shout, finally gaining her attention. "I. Am. Fine." <<$injury_leg>>She stares from you to your bruised leg, still flaunting its new color as it swells. Everything about it defies your words. Back on Genesis, if you had an injury like this, you wouldn't be able to properly walk on your leg for a few days. In a way, maybe you still shouldn't. But that is a luxury you can't afford, not out here. Checl doesn't believe you, it's painfully apparent by how her gaze never strays from your leg. You push yourself up, finding no point in staying there.<<else>>You snatch your arm out of her grip, almost wishing to remind her to not touch you, but believe the action alone will suffice. Back on Genesis, if you had an injury like this, you wouldn't be able to properly move your arm for a few days. In a way, maybe you still shouldn't. But that is a luxury you can't afford, not out here. Checl doesn't believe you, it's painfully apparent by how her gaze never strays from your arm. You push yourself up, finding no point in staying there.<</if>> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Act?" you question, your brow furrowing as you look to her to explain further. "When do I act brave?" "If you ask me, all the time." "Am I acting brave or are you just mad that I'm not telling you every little thing?" She pouts in a way that only a zeach can manage to pull off. A combination of large eyes, a quivering mandible, and somehow getting the bottom part of their mandibles to poke out much like a child's bottom lip would. You simply roll your eyes. <<if $inv_medkit>>\ "I have a medkit in my bag, grab it." She excitedly does so. Easy to please, yes. But it is still all a waste of time and supplies. The things you do just to please this damn zeach. Your grumbling doesn't end as she returns, opening the kit and grabbing some ointment and rubbing it into your skin. <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>You find yourself holding your breath, behaving like a child who has finally been noticed by their crush. Despite this understanding, accompanied by your mind telling you to get a grip, you continue to behave as if this is some sacred moment. Your heart does a small skip and you fight a shiver that threatens to overcome you.<<else>>You wait patiently, busy with calming your warring thoughts on having no problem with Checl's help and the other screaming about receiving it. You need to get out of this headspace, this idea that in a few more days, you'll still have friends to rely on. You have no one, and that's how it should stay; otherwise, they'll disappoint you, or you'll ... or you'll disappoint them. <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>\ "Is that enough?" "Yes. Happy now?" you growl, not meaning to sound as irritated as you do. The ire is true but misplaced, its target far closer than Checl. "Yes. Thanks." You wave away her words and close the medkit back up, placing it back in your bag and escaping the odd air that has descended between the two of you. <<else>>\ "Alright," you grumble, pulling your <<if $injury_leg>>leg<<else>>arm<</if>> away as you put space between you and her. "Shouldn't you still be careful?" "I let you help me, now shut up about it." <<if $emotion >=50>>No, no, no. That came out far harsher than you planned; not even the words should have been uttered. You're grateful, but there's a wall there, but that's not something you can just say. You turn to explain it in a way only you can, but she has already started walking away, appearing crestfallen from your previous utterance. //Good job//, you snort.<<else>>You flinch but refuse to back down. Checl didn't deserve that, she just wanted to help. But sometimes … sometimes you just need her to understand that … understand what? Everything you want her to understand is something no normal being would. You have placed mandatory regulations on all parts of your life and have the nerve to be angry when others do not adhere to them. Yet another reason to be alone, you suppose. Or whatever it is you keep telling yourself to maintain distance.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "Look," you start, "even if I did want your help, there's nothing to be done about it. We don't have any supplies." Her face still conveys her disappointment. "If it gets worse, I'll sit in the back of the wagon. Okay?" "You should do that regardless." "And give Zihr a chance to question why I'm being lazy? Not a chance." She seems to think about it before letting out a huff and nodding. "You promise?" The phrase causes you to stiffen, an involuntary response you don't wish to think upon. Instead, you nod. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You snort. "What's the point of putting on an act in front of you? Zihr, maybe," you say and nod towards where the raza is standing, speaking to <<if $mentor is "alive">>Zyrith<<else>>Prourc<</if>>. "But you? No. You've seen me in far worse conditions." <<if $checlRoPo >=2>>\ "So then why don't you ever let me help you?" She says this while reaching for your hand <<if $checlRo >=50>>and you allow her as much. You focus on the feeling of the soft padding of her palm, sometimes momentarily disrupted by her talon. Innumerable thoughts run through your mind, but all that comes out is a sigh.<<else>>and though you don't entirely mean to, you move your hand out of reach. She stares at the place your hand once rested and turns away, her feathers beginning to rise.<</if>> "Because I don't need your help," you murmur. 'Because I've been doing this far longer than you could imagine, and if I didn't need you then, then I don't need you now. Because in a few days, when we go our separate ways, I want to remember as little as possible about you.' But of course, you keep all that to yourself. Every single bit of it. <<else>>\ "So then why don't you ever let me help you?" "Trying to become a meat shield?" "That sounds," she huffs, "disgusting." "You worry too much." "I think I worry a sane amount for someone who knows you. I feel I've seen you injured more than I've seen you okay." "Exaggeration." "Hardly," she snorts. "Everything is fine, Checl. Try to worry less." You stand, testing <<if $injury_leg>>how much weight you can put on your leg and acting surprised when you find that it's 'better.'<<else>>how much you can move your arm without it hurting, and then acting surprised when you find that it's 'better.'<</if>> You make a point of showing Checl before walking away. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Well, now that you mention it there are a few things I saw that you did wrong." "Are you serious?" he roars, breathing in deeply and wincing. "I can't believe …" He seems to calm down upon seeing your smirk, only to grow angry once more. "You're playing with me, aren't you?" "A favorite past time of mine if you haven't figured it out. Judging by how you can't seem to breathe without pain, I'm guessing that trip to the ground was pretty bad." "Immensely," he says, awkwardly collapsing against the side of the wagon. "Breathing hurts. Standing hurts. I'm not sure if they just hurt or if I maybe broke a rib." <<include "3.30ZihrProbe">>
"Actually, I was coming over here to make sure you were okay." He pauses, checking your face and demeanor before he begins to inflate. He practically collapses against the side of the wagon and lets out an unsteady breath. "Sorry. I'll admit I was being the asshole for that one. It hurts like hell. I'm hoping I didn't break a rib." <<include "3.30ZihrProbe">>
<<if $medical >=10>>\ "I can help you with that, let me see." He frowns, glancing from you to his shirt, and you roll your eyes. "Are you suddenly shy? I've seen you with your shirt off plenty of times." "Yes, but ..." He fails to finish the sentence, and you motion for him to quicken his pace. You help, eyeing the blossoming discoloration that spreads across his ribcage. Leaning in closer, you begin to softly probe the injured area, fingers kneading into flesh to elicit the proper tell-tale signs of broken ribs. You search for sounds of any grinding or crunching, but hear nothing. "Well, I didn't feel anything, so I'm guessing just a contusion." "A what? Is that bad?" "It's a bruise." "Then just say that next time," he growls, pulling away from you. You notice the tips of his ears are redder than usual, and though part of you wishes to tease him about it, you leave him be. <<if $inv_medkit>>\ "I have some ointment that you can put on it to help the inflammation. Won't really help the pain all that much but it'll bring down the bruising and swelling." "I'll take anything." You nod, retrieving the ointment and passing it to him. With that straightened out, you go. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "I'm not proficient, but I at least know a bit about a bruised versus a broken rib." "Of course you do," he mumbles, and you throw him an irritated glare, and you raise his shirt, wincing at the blossoming discoloration along his ribs. You place your hand against the injured area, only to jerk backwards when he does the same. "What? Did it hurt?" He turns away from you, doing a horrendous job of trying to act calm and collected as the tips of his ears brighten. "It just tickled a bit," he mumbles. <<if $zihrRoPo >=2>>\ "Oh ho," you laugh, "you shouldn't have told me that, Zihr." "Tell you what? That it tickles?" "Yea. Now, I know that you're ticklish." "Isn't everyone?" "No." His face practically goes through the seven stages of grief before he chooses to just ignore the subject altogether. "So, am I fine or not?" "I haven't checked," you snicker, motioning for him to approach. He does, and your fingers dance across his ribcage, feeling for any kind of crack. As you work, you are acutely aware of his breathing, primarily because it feels like he's holding his breath, his entire body stiffening. Multiple times, you have to keep yourself from glancing up, gazing into his eyes to see just how much your touch affects him. <<if $inv_medkit>>\ "Alright," you finally speak and he wastes no time in putting ample space between you. If he wanted it to seem like nothing you did bothered him, he should've been slower, more deliberate. But you don't point out this flaw, keeping it to yourself as you continue on. "It doesn't feel like it's broken. I have some ointment that you can put on it to help the bruising and swelling." "I'll take anything." You nod, retrieving the ointment and passing it to him. With that straightened out, you go. <<else>>\ "Well," you finally speak and he wastes no time in putting ample space between you. If he wanted it to seem like nothing you did bothered him, he should've been slower, more deliberate. But you don't point out this flaw, keeping it to yourself as you continue on. "It doesn't feel like it's broken, so possibly just bruised." "And if it is broken?" "Doesn't really matter," you admit with a shrug. "Just don't fight anymore and try to move as little as possible." "That I can do," he snorts. "Thanks." You hum, rising and leaving him to do whatever else he needs to. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ You snort but motion for him to let you check. This time, he maintains his composure enough for you to run your fingers across. There's no obvious sign, nothing that reminds you of the few times when your ribs were broken. And so, you deduce that it's just bruising. It's not like you can do anything if they were broken anyway. "Did you hear anything crack when you hit the ground?" "No, but it wasn't really my main concern either." <<if $inv_medkit>>\ "Well, it doesn't feel like it's broken. I have some ointment that you can put on it to help the bruising and swelling." "I'll take anything." You nod, retrieving the ointment and passing it to him. With that straightened out, you go. <<else>>\ "Well, it doesn't feel like it's broken, so possibly just bruised." "And if it is broken?" "Doesn't really matter," you admit with a shrug. "Just don't fight anymore and try to move as little as possible." "That I can do," he snorts. "Thanks." You hum, rising and leaving him to do whatever else he needs to. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You have no patience to hear his mouth rattle off things when he's the one who got himself injured. There are other things you can do. "Fuck you, Zihr," you chuckle, continuing past him, more than okay with leaving him to his own devices. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <<include "3.31">>
You have no patience to hear his mouth rattle off things when he's the one who got himself injured. There are other things you can do, so instead of fully coming to a stop, you continue past him and leave him to his own devices. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <<include "3.31">>
You all set off with the true rise of the sun, hoping to close whatever gap remains between you and the Taouron wall. <<if $guards_dead>>The now-dead guards have provided the three of you with a great opportunity. Whereas before you only had a chance to get in, now it is guaranteed. If Zihr is still bothered by how you handled the situation, he says nothing to provide you with the answer. Perhaps he finds himself far too occupied staring at what lies on the horizon and grows near.<<else>>The guards have chosen now, out of all times, to be vigilant. There's a chance that raiders and pirates will attack, but as the figures in the distance get closer, that possibility dwindles until it is nothing.<</if>> <<if $mentor is "alive">>You're not entirely sure what Zihr has planned for his mentor, if he's going to try and bribe the border guards or simply have him wait outside the gates until he has the funds to get him in. You suppose you'll find out soon.<</if>> The immobile objects you saw soon take the shape of tents and wagons, with multiple people moving around. Some stick to their caravans while others head towards the numerous stalls to trade in their goods for something else. "We did it," Checl murmurs, closing her eyes before repeating the words. "We're here." "What is this?" Zihr asks. "Why choose to camp out here?" "It's a rest area. Most cities have this if they have non-city limits," you answer. Prourc nods. "Some people aren't allowed in because of lack of funds or papers, so they wait here until they can get them. Others have family that they're waiting to be contacted. And some would just rather take their chances here than the Outlands." <<if $mentor is "alive">>Zihr's frown deepens, his eyes flashing to his mentor and its easy to suspect what conversation the two of them are about to have. Frankly, it's the wise thing to do. This area is safe and as soon as Zihr can get the funds, he can help his mentor get into the city. From there, well, you're not exactly sure what will happen.<<else>>Despite gaining answers, Zihr seems less than pleased and remains quiet. The obvious irritation radiating off of him causes you to raise an inquisitory brow, but you say nothing about the matter.<</if>> Prourc moves past the throngs of people, pulling his dhole behind another. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "Where are they going?" Checl asks, watching as Zihr and Zyrith head to the side. "He's keeping his mentor here until he can get money to help him inside," you answer, paying little attention to the two of them and more on the area before you. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
There are three lines of scanners, each manned by a group of three. Your gaze moves upwards to two sentry towers, but tinted glass makes it impossible to see how many people are within. Probably droids to eliminate the need for breaks. From there, the walls stretch to create the impassable circle that's several leagues long that houses the numerous city sectors and those within. How many times have you looked upon this wall? Not much. You remember staring down at it from the plane but that's it. Inside, you can't recall ever taking treks close enough to look upon it even though the safehouse was close. The small speeder in front of you is cleared, and your group moves forward<<if $mentor is "alive">> just as Zihr rejoins you, alone. You almost start to question him, but his facial expression warns you against it, you'd rather not hear his mouth<</if>>. "Halt for scan," an automatic voice states as three guards approach. One mans a device that scans the wagon's contents, and a second guard moves to speak to Prourc and look over his papers. The third stays back and observes all of you lazily. <<if $guards_dead>>\ Out of the corner of your eye, you see Zihr visibly gulp. His posture grows stiff as he resituates himself and then shifts to grab something but stops at the last minute. "You're making yourself look even more suspicious," you whisper to him. "What if the manifests are wrong and give us away?" "They won't." "You could've messed up. It tends to happen." "I didn't." "You say that like you can be sure," he barks, and you sigh heavily. "Everything okay with the two of you?" one of the guards asks, looking from Zihr to you with a raised brow. Their partner also pauses their conversation with Prourc and glances over. <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Lover's quarrel.”|3.31LoverQuarrel]]<<else>>[[“Lover's quarrel.”|3.31LoverQuarrel]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“He's nervous.”|3.31ZihrNervous][$approach +=3]] [[“He has to pee.”|3.31ZihrPee][$approach -=3]] [[Say nothing.|3.31ZihrSN]] <<else>>\ "Best hurry this up," the terran guard states gruffly, fixing their bandolier. "I have a date with a bar." "That's still your main goal?" the raza one asks, shaking their head. "I'm looking for a bed and a warm meal." "Two things I can get at a bar. On top of that, I can get a warm body to share that bed of yours with." Your attention drifts from them to the guard looking over the papers as his gaze rises to your group. "Are they with you?" they ask Prourc. "Just traveling companions. The papers detail the three of us." "Then you're clear. Surrender your weapons for registration, and you and your companions will continue to the disinfectant chamber. You'll be separated from your merchandise and creature to be checked acutely for contraband. Your creature will also be put through a disinfectant procedure. Do you comply?" "I comply," Prourc answers, and the officer nods, motioning for Prourc to dismount. "Head through." Another officer takes the dhole's reins and leads the creature towards a separate door. <a data-passage="3.32"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Everything is quite alright," you chuckle and nudge Zihr roughly. "Just a lover's quarrel. My partner loves to point out things from the past." Zihr guffaws. "Are you kidding me?" "You do love to argue with me, yes?" "I don't argue. I point things out because you're constantly wrong." You give both guards a 'see what I have to deal with look,' but they have already returned to their jobs. "Next time, //sweetie//, I really need you to learn how to play along. Or am I destined to always do the work in this relationship?" "Can you stop referring to me as your lover," he grumbles, finally learning how to whisper. [[“A fantasy huh?”|3.31FantasyHuh][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]] [[“My apologies.”|3.31MyApologies][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]
"Checking off too many personal fantasies at one time, huh?" you tease, smirking as the tips of his ears grow a shade darker than usual. Luckily, the guard speaks before Zihr can. <<include "3.31.2">>
"I'm sorry. But you see why I had to do it, right?" He stares at you briefly before huffing and nodding, "Yea, yea." <<include "3.31.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> Glancing at Zihr, you shrug, "he's nervous." "About?" "The manifest being wrong," you answer honestly, much to everyone's shock and Zihr's fear. You continue, "He's nervous you're going to find something there that shouldn't be." "Will I?" the guard questions, peering at Prourc and performing an even more pervasive check. "No. But nerves are nerves. Like when you get a surprise barrack inspection. You know you're straight, but that little voice in the back of your head says otherwise." One of the guards chuckles, and the one looking over the papers nods in understanding, his check coming to a sudden end. "Seriously?" Zihr whispers, "what if that didn't go as you predicted?" "Don't see how that would've been possible. You keep thinking I did something to the papers when I didn't." Zihr's mouth closes out of shock or from just having nothing to say. Who knows. <<include "3.31.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "You'll have to excuse him; he has to go to the bathroom." "He could have relieved himself in the camp," one of them points out, nodding to a few areas where you surmise a bathroom exists. "Too late now," you shrug, and he shrugs, continuing his job. "Leave my name out of it next time," Zihr growls. "Don't pull the focus to yourself then." <<include "3.31.2">>
You remain quiet, even having half a mind to walk away and remove yourself from the line of questioning. It takes a few minutes for Zihr to find his voice. "Everything is fine. Just …" He fails to come up with a lie and simply shrugs and lets out a nervous laugh. "I don't know." "Nervous one isn't he?" the guard speaking to Prourc comments. "You sure giving him a gun was wise?" "Good guards are hard to come by," Prourc chuckles wholeheartedly. "I was lucky to find either." With that smoothed over, the guards return to their work. <<include "3.31.2">>
"Alright, you're clear. Relinquish your weapons for registration, and then you and your companions will continue to the disinfectant chamber. You'll be separated from your merchandise and creatures to be checked acutely for contraband. While your creatures are put through another kind of disinfectant procedure. Do you comply?" "I comply," Prourc answers, and the guard nods, motioning for Prourc to dismount. "Head through." Another guard takes the dhole's reins and leads the creature towards a separate door while the third comes by to gather any weapons you have. Zihr's hand shakes as he hands over his blade, refusing to pull his gaze from the object until the guard has disappeared. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he displays a muzzle. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold. "It'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "If I have someone waiting in the camp for me, how-" Zihr starts but the officer waves him off. "Ask the receptionist your questions. I got a job to do." Zihr frowns but does as he is told. <</if>>\ You then head towards the door that the others wait for you by. They hiss as they part, opening into a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Your presence brings it to life, and the lights built within glimmer a faint blue as an automatic voice is heard overhead. <a data-passage="3.31.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Commencing disinfectant process. Please continue walking down the corridor." The others pull ahead as you take up the rear. Each step finds your breath quickening. You push yourself to go on just as the machine passes by overhead. Your chest feels like it's folding in on itself as soon as the spray rains down upon you. The smell of brimstone and sulfur assault and aggravate your senses. The lights overhead begin to amplify, and the feeling of a dozen other bodies push in on you. The feeling of the slick liquid against your skin causes you to want to scream and claw at it, to be free of the accursed feel. You retch at your own disgust, choking on the hallucinatory smell of ammonia as it wafts into the corridor and settles. A small voice reminds you where you are and who surrounds you. This is not the time. You need to keep going; better yet, you have to. What will you say when the others eventually ask questions? When they turn to see that you have paused? "You will show me your weakness, and I will show you your death," someone whispers. Your blood chills, and you fight an opponent that is not there. //Move//, you yell at yourself, //move//! "$name!?" Your eyes widen in shock as you're transported back to the corridor, back to the now with … [[… Prourc right beside you.|3.31ProurcTalk]] [[… Zihr right in front of you.|3.31ZihrFine]] <<if $checl_touch>>\[[… Checl clutching your face.|3.31CheclTouch]]<</if>>\
… Checl clutching your face between her softly padded hands. You look from her to your surroundings, finding breathing much easier once you focus on her touch. No, on her in general. Everything about her calm demeanor settles you. "Thanks," you say under your breath. "What was that?" she whispers so the others can't hear, though you fail to believe she can do so low enough for Zihr to stay ignorant. "Just a memory." <<if $idle is "cig">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab my e-cig." "$name," she says in her usual motherly tone. "Save it for later. Just give it to me." You inhale deeply as she rifles through your pockets, finally pulling the object out. You take it from her, cut it on, and take a long puff. A wave of serenity washes over you, and after one more puff, you're able to rise. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks. A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab one of my picks." She nods, rifling through your pockets, until pulling one of the slim objects out. You take it from her and put it in your mouth. Moving it from side to side and chewing on the harsh wood, you're hit with a splash of mint that causes a wave of serenity to wash over you. Getting the flavored pack was wise. A few seconds later and you regain your ability to interact with your surroundings. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks. A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ You nod towards your pockets. "My pocket," you choose to verbalize. "Grab a piece of candy." She nods, rifling through your pockets, until pulling one of the objects out. You take it from her and put it in your mouth. Moving it from side to side and chewing on the harsh edible, you're hit with a splash of mint and determine it to be a peppermint. You let the wave of serenity wash over you and a few seconds later you regain your ability to interact with your surroundings. "A memory can do that?" Checl asks. A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <<else>>\ You wave it off, seeking to stand up when she asks, "A memory can do that?" A dozen different answers come to mind, each revealing too much and yet, not enough. So you behave as if you hadn't heard the question, continuing down the path and pushing ahead of the others and into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
… Prourc right beside you. He looks like he wants to place his hand on your shoulder, but something stops him. Each time the thought arises, it's reevaluated a second later. "I'm alright," you reassure. "You can walk?" "Yes," to prove your words true, you rise to your feet and give him a look. "Very well." He turns and heads back towards the exit, and though the other two peer at you, wishing to question what has happened, you silently thank Prourc for never being too nosy. It makes a lot of things a lot easier to deal with. <<if $idle is "nothing">>You follow his lead through the door and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "cig">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket with shaky hands and pull out your e-cig. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Cutting it on, you take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket with shaky hands and pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<else>>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket with shaky hands and pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. A few seconds of sucking on it and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
… Zihr, right in front of you, now kneeling and examining you keenly. The look within those amber eyes could almost be mistaken for worry, but you tell yourself it is simply irritation and nosiness. "I'm fine," you tell him, gathering your bearings before attempting to stand. "You are now. But you weren't before. What was that?" "Curious one, huh?" Your usual snarky and teasing ways seem to do the trick like always, and with a roll of his eyes, he makes it easy on both of you and leaves your side. <<if $idle is "nothing">>Following after, you head through the door and into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "cig">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and, with shaky hands, pull out your e-cig. Hopefully this place doesn't have rules against it because you're about to break them. Cutting it on, you take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and, with shaky hands, pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. A few seconds of chewing and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <<else>>\ Before following behind him, you reach into your pocket and, with shaky hands, pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. A few seconds of sucking on it and you're ready to follow the others into the next room. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.31.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
A large desk rests against a nearby wall with a screen directly over it. Two people work the area, neither of them concerned with you as you enter besides to give you directions. <<if $idle is "cig">>Or at least they aren't at first. "Um, excuse me," one of them call out, waving at you. "You're not allowed to smoke in here." The panic attack has subsided enough for you to do as they ask and you give them a thumbs up as you cut it off and place it back in your pocket.<</if>> "Scan and register your chip over there," one says before glancing back down at their wrist terminal. Prourc is the first, and then Checl. Neither of the screens shows anything interesting as Zihr goes next, and finally you. You're aware of all three moving closer to see, and even you can't honestly blame them. You're also curious about what will show. You've gone from trarkran slave to Dinami hit-person with little to nothing in between. But the Dinami don't leave loose ends. In their usual fashion, they would've wiped or hidden all data concerning you. Buried as a faceless body and a nobody to those using technology to ID you. The information appears, and though you stare back at the basic information you supplied your abacus a year ago, you still feel like you're staring at a nameless nobody. "Expected more," Prourc snorts under his breath, moving on. You gaze at the screen for a bit longer before following. <a data-passage="3.31.5"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The next room is a holding one, simply a formality for them to say that they thoroughly questioned, examined, and reminded you of the laws. Each of those, they do half-heartedly if at all. For individuals like Prourc, they more so do that for one's goods, as that will land them in far more trouble than an individual who later commits a crime. <<if $mentor is "alive">>Somewhere between learning that specific kinds of seeds is regarded as contraband and that it is illegal to bring any kind of robotic helper into the city, Zihr stands and goes up to the receptionist. You don't hear what he asks her but imagining you do is at least more entertaining than whatever the holo-screen is trying to convey.<</if>> Only a few minutes go by but it feels like far longer due to Checl's excitement. She finds herself standing and pacing the room before retaking her seat, only to find herself far too impatient and repeating the cycle. Finally, you're given the green light and the doors to the city are open to you. As soon as you make it outside, $hound is by your side, <<if $species is "blight">>and then a few yards away, and then once again by your side. He bumps into you, and you turn to tell him to calm down, but he's once again gone.<<elseif $species is "spirit">>nuzzling close and letting out tiny, thankful chirps. You can do nothing more than pet his head and smile, wishing he'd been around when you entered the disinfectant corridor, perhaps … perhaps.<<else>>taking a seat. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was bored, but you do, and the way his slits shift in tones, you know it's far more likely he's aggravated and devising ways of tearing the muzzle adorning his snout off.<</if>> "<<if $species is "blight">>Quite a handful you got," the attendant tells you, their eyes never leaving the chaotic hound.<<else>>Never thought I'd see a tamed hound," the attendant tells you, eyeing the creature.<</if>> "In your own dwelling, the muzzle can come off. But in public, it stays on, or you will be fined. Understood?" You nod, hating the idea but understanding the reasons. "Let's head in then," Prourc states, already making his way toward the wagon and mounting it. Checl speeds past you and Zihr, calling the seat next to him, the only thing calming her down is Prourc's threatening glances. You and Zihr get in the back, opening up the covering so you can still see ahead. With a final nod from all of you, Prourc motions for his dhole to head down the road and towards the city. <a data-passage="3.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Prourc approaches you before he goes. "Good luck. I'll send my shop's address to your chip, just in case." "No need," you tell him, "wait for us." He opens his mouth but then closes it, letting out a chuckle. "I'll see you inside then." You nod your thanks, watching as he leaves, and the guard turns their attention to you. "You got something for me, I'm guessing?" Checl hands the funds over, and you wait as another guard approaches. The two of them count and discuss, taking only a few minutes before they turn to you. One leaves with the pouch as the other looks the three of you over, you can already tell that this will not go the way you wish. "Alright," they nod, "that's enough for one of you." "One of us?" Checl splutters out in disbelief. You wish you could match her shock, but this possibility reared itself a few times along your journey. Same as the guards simply taking the bribe and letting none of you or choosing two of you and leaving the last here to survive amidst the sands. "That bribe-" Zihr starts, but the guard cuts him off. "Is a bribe. Keep complaining, and all three of you will be turned away. Who wants that spot, I wonder." The vetix drums their gloved fingers against the top of their gun, glancing at each of you. [[Threaten them.|3.32Threat][$coercer +=1; $zihr -=3; $checl -=5]] [[Charm them.|3.32Charm][$charmer +=1; $zihr -=5; $checl +=5]] [[Bring up his superiors.|3.32Shame][$shamer +=1; $zihr +=3; $checl +=3]] [[Take it.|3.32Mine][$ticketforone to true; $checlLo -=1; $zihrLo -=1]]
While the other two panic, you choose to take a deep breath. You hoped you wouldn't need to do this; a mix of shaming but also informing. Unlike threatening or charming them, shaming them into letting you in is too risky a road. You're hoping that your words hit some sort of nerve that causes them to fear the future. What happens if their superiors are fine with them taking bribes, and these guards know it? What happens if they call your bluff and the only thing left for you to do is go through with the bluff? You step up, causing Checl and Zihr to quiet their fussing as the guard raises a brow. "I'm guessing there are cameras, right?" The guard gives his companion a look before turning back to you and nodding slowly. "And I'm guessing your superiors don't check those cameras often." A flicker of anger appears in his eyes as he begins to understand what you're starting to hint at. "Are you threatening me?" "For it to be a threat, you'd have to have done something wrong. Something worth telling your superiors about." He studies you, and though you want to stiffen, you remain relaxed. Any sort of posture change will let him know all he needs to know. He snorts. "You won't, because then none of you get in." "Hmm," you nod, "that's true. But I'll walk away knowing that you're out of a job, and I'll probably get my pouch back. I'll get in some other way, but you and your partner will be in the unemployment lines, hoping someone gives a shit. Or." You clap and glance around for any obvious cameras. "Or, you let us in because neither of us want the hassle." <a data-passage="3.33.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
While the other two panic, you choose to take a deep breath. You hoped you wouldn't need to do this; intimidation is never a fun road to travel down. No, it is, but it's tiring. There is always too much perception needed to break the target down and decide which course is best to take. Thankfully, this guard is just that, a guard, and though there are a few outliers, most of them are all the same. You step up, causing Checl and Zihr to quiet their fussing as the guard raises a brow. "This is how this is about to go," you begin, "you're going to let all three of us through with that bribe, or you're going to find that sleeping for the next few nights will get especially hard." He snorts. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" You lean in and whisper, "Dinami member 4-TGT-013. I dare you to act like you don't know what those numbers mean and what kind of situation you're in now." The latter isn't needed, as the guard stiffens, and you even see him gulp. "Then I let you in and not them." "I don't think so. Look me up if you want to fact-check me but know that the last thing you'll see is my threat level, if I even show up on any of your bullshit chips. You have a choice; let us in and continue living this mundane life of yours. Or create issues and see how exciting it can really get, no matter how short and fleeting that time may be." <a data-passage="3.33.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
While the other two panic, you let out a tired breath. You hoped you wouldn't need to do this; charming someone is never a fun road. It isn't the most challenging road to traverse, but it must be treaded upon carefully and skillfully. Thankfully, this guard is just that, a guard, and though there are a few outliers, most of them are all the same. You step up, causing Checl and Zihr to quiet their fussing as the guard raises a brow. "I'm going to reason with you," you begin, "we're not regular travelers, same reason why the previous man let us travel with them." "And what makes you so different?" You lean in and whisper, "I'm here on Dinami orders. These two are …" You look over at your companions and shrug. "Let's say the Dinami has plans for them, but they don't know about it." "And I'm supposed to believe you're Dinami?" "4-TGT-013," you answer nonchalantly. For a moment, you pray they don't gain the need to look you up, but you're reminded that they can't. Dinami records are classified. Anyone caught snooping will find themselves hacked and later visited. Much to your satisfaction, the guard seems to understand the numbers, something you're not shocked by. Most guards in areas like this know of the Dinami and a few of the intricacies due to them working closely with the organization's smugglers. "Hit-person," they mumble, and you nod. "So you either let us in, or I'll have to report back what's holding me up even more." "Even more?" "Someone decided to start a gang war in the Outlands, keeping us from getting here sooner." <a data-passage="3.33.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
They're quiet for a tick longer before taking an unsteady step back. "You're allowed in, just continue through those doors." "Glad to hear it." You say nothing more as you walk past the guard and towards the door, the other two bounding to your side and peppering you with questions you had been preparing yourself to get. "Does it matter?" you ask, turning to look at them, "we're getting in. So let's go. Quickly, before Prourc gets too far ahead." Used to the mounds of secrets you hold, Checl shrugs and continues on. It doesn't matter to her how you got past the guard, just that you did, and for that, you're thankful. The same can't be said about Zihr, who stays planted, ready to bombard you with even more questions. Thankfully, a guard holding a muzzle approaches, and you're able to set your attention on them. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he moves in closer, muzzle at the ready. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold, "it'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. You then head towards the door that the others wait for you by. They hiss as they part, opening into a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Prourc stands to the side, appearing bored until he sees you. "You made it." "Told you I would. Where are the guards?" "Already went through. Seems they have their own ways in." You nod as the lights built within the machine glimmer a faint blue and an automatic voice is heard overhead. <a data-passage="3.31.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Nothing personal," you say, stepping away from them and towards the guard, who laughs boisterously. You never liked that phrase. You know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a move like this, and you doubt it will ever be seen as anything other than personal. "$name," Zihr warns, and Checl cries out in shock. "I have things to handle," you tell them, "let's not act like this comes as a shock. I've always been in it for myself.<<if $mentor is "alive">> And look at it this way, Zihr, now you don't have to leave your mentor's side.<</if>>" Neither of them says anything as the guard beckons you along, leaving your two former companions standing there with helpless looks. They'll find a way if they genuinely want to make it past these walls. If not, then well ... that is no longer any business of yours. "The hound is yours?" a guard asks, and once you nod, he displays a muzzle. You're not surprised; just unsure of how easy this will be. You perform a series of clicks, and once $hound sits before you, you begin to work it on. He thrashes a few times but trusts you enough to let you fasten it. Once you step back, he shakes his head, rubbing it against the ground to do away with the contraption. "Stop it," you scold, "it'll be off before you know it. Now go with them, and I'll see you on the other side." You make a few more clicks and point to the guard, who seems to be questioning their job. Looking from you to $hound, they reach forward only to stop and simply decide that walking off and coaxing him to follow is wiser. $hound follows, but you're unsure what will happen once he makes it inside. There's no looking back, no hint of doubt in your actions as the metallic doors close behind you, and you enter Taouron. <a data-passage="3.33"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The procedure to enter the city is as extensive as you remember. After the doors close behind you, you find yourself in a long corridor where a large, rotating circular machine rests on the opposing side. Your presence brings it to life, and the lights built within glimmer a faint blue as an automatic voice is heard overhead. "Commencing disinfectant process. Please continue walking down the corridor." One step and it whirls to life even more; the second begins to head towards you; the third and fourth are taken just as easily as the first. But every step thereafter finds your breath quickening. You will yourself to go on just as the machine passes by overhead. Your chest feels like it's folding in on itself as soon as the spray rains down upon you. The smell of brimstone and sulfur assault and aggravate your senses. The lights overhead begin to heighten, and the feeling of a dozen other bodies push in on you. The feeling of the slick liquid against your skin causes you to want to scream and claw at it, to be free of the accursed feel. You retch at your own disgust, choking on the hallucinatory smell of ammonia as it drifts into the corridor and settles. [[Fight through this.|3.33Gut][$gut +=2]] [[Remind yourself where you are.|3.33Mind][$mind +=2]] [[Take a moment to breathe.|3.33Heart][$heart +=2]]
You grit your teeth and practically yell at yourself to continue on. You have never been the type to give up. That type of person wouldn't have been able to survive the ordeals you've been through. Every trial would have failed, and a fractured spirit would have crumbled. But yours has not. Yours, though cracked and damaged beyond repair, still carries on. You believe you scream, and internally you thrash, but it feels like you go nowhere, as if every ounce of you is fighting quicksand, armed with the knowledge that it is only dragging you down further. <<include "3.33.1">>
"It's not real," you tell yourself, reminding yourself where you are. "This is Taouron. You're on Crion." The more you remind yourself of this, the more it all fades. A sun twice the brilliance of the one you have grown used to is now overhead, pelting you with its rays. By your side are two figures that remind you of both simpler times and the most hellish times of your life. Behind you, you hear that ancient language, and persisting through it all is the sleek feel of liquid against your skin and the pungent gas that refuses to leave your nostrils. <<include "3.33.1">>
//Inhale. Exhale.// An intense sun looms overhead, pelting you with its rays and making every breath laborious. //Inhale. Exhale.// A crowd gathers around shouting things in a language you will one day come to understand but never find an appreciation for. //Inhale. Exhale.// You repeat these directions until the scenes manifesting become stills and then disappear entirely. Deep inhale, steady and controlled exhale. <<include "3.33.1">>
"Hey," someone questions, and your eyes open to find someone at the end of the corridor. You gather yourself, glancing around, almost shocked that you are here and not on Miarilia. "You okay?" <<if $idle is "cig">>\ "Just peachy," you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out your e-cig. "There's no smoking in here," the employee tells you. "Then it's in your best interest to make sure I get out of here as quick as possible." You take a long puff and revel in the wave of serenity that washes over you. One more puff and you're ready to move forward, the disgruntled attendant right behind you. <<include "3.33.2">> <<elseif $idle is "pick">>\ "Are any of us?" you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out a toothpick. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste that coats the harsh wood. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|3.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|3.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|3.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|3.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <<elseif $idle is "candy">>\ "I will be," you reply weakly as you reach into your pocket and pull out a pice of candy, peppermint. Putting it in your mouth, you shift it around, reveling as a wave of serenity washes over you along with the minty taste. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|3.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|3.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|3.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|3.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <<else>>\ "Just keep talking," you mumble, walking forward and fighting the daze that overcomes you much like a wave. With every step, it retreats further, but you still feel like you're trekking through knee-high water that reveals itself to be sludge. A bright light and the sound of Prourc's voice bring you entirely back to the now. You hold onto it, letting both things secure you firmly to the here and now. "Are you sure you're okay?" the attendant asks, glancing at their wrist terminal, "the data isn't showing anything medical-wise. But I can conduct another scan." [[“That's because I'm fine.”|3.33BecauseImOhSoFine][$open -=3]] [[“I'm okay, thanks.”|3.33ImOkay][$open +=3]] [[“No, that's fine.”|3.33NoFine][$open +=3]] [[Shove past them.|3.33ShovePast][$open -=3]] <</if>>\
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "That's because I'm fine," you growl, pushing past them and towards Prourc and the desk he stands in front of. <<include "3.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "I'm okay," you tell them with an easy and hopefully genuine smile, "those things just tend to freak me out." They gaze at you in confusion but question you no further, nodding as they close down their wrist terminal and head back to their previous spot. You wander over to Prourc and the desk that he stands before. <<include "3.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "No," you tell them, straightening up, "that's quite alright. I'll be fine." "Are you sure?" "Yes. Some things can't really be fixed with medicine and fancy technology anyway." The attendant simply nods and wanders off while you muse over your words. What will fix it then? There are times when you believe you're okay. Free from the struggles that the past has bequeathed you, but then times like this rear up. And you know that freedom and escape are illusions brought on by a defiled mind. <<include "3.33.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> They're adding to a headache you're actively trying to alleviate, so you push past them. You focus on getting to Prourc, who stands only a few feet away, gazing at a screen that shows his chip's information. <<include "3.33.2">>
He pauses momentarily to look at you, then glances behind you and snorts. "Took you long enough." You chuckle, secretly thanking him for the sentence. You're back, and only your still hastened breathing confirms that you have undergone anything mildly traumatic. <<if $idle is "cig">>To avoid further trouble with any of the employees, you take one last puff of your cigarette before cutting it off and putting it back in its original home.<</if>> "You gonna hold up the line or move on?" you joke, and he murmurs something before moving to the side so that you can register your chip. You're as curious as the still lingering Prourc concerning what will show. You've gone from trarkran slave to Dinami hit-person with little to nothing in between. But the Dinami don't leave loose ends. In their usual fashion, they would've wiped or hidden all data concerning you. Buried as a faceless body and a nobody to those using technology to ID you. The information appears, and though you stare back at the basic information you supplied your abacus a year ago, you still feel like you're staring at a nameless nobody. "Expected more," Prourc snorts under his breath, moving on. You gaze at the screen for a bit longer before following him. The next room is a holding one, simply a formality for them to say that they thoroughly questioned, examined, and reminded you of the laws. Each of those, they do half-heartedly, if at all. You're given your possessions back and then given the green light, the doors to the city are open to you. <a data-passage="3.33.3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
As soon as you make it outside, $hound is by your side, <<if $species is "blight">>and then a few yards away, and then once again by your side. He bumps into you, and you turn to tell him to calm down, but he's once again gone.<<elseif $species is "spirit">>nuzzling close and letting out tiny, thankful chirps. You can do nothing more than pet his head and smile, wishing he'd been around when you entered the disinfectant corridor, perhaps … perhaps.<<else>>taking a seat. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was bored, but you do, and the way his slits shift in tones, you know it's far more likely he's aggravated and devising ways of tearing the muzzle adorning his snout off.<</if>> <<if $species is "blight">>"Quite a handful you got," the attendant tells you, their eyes never leaving the chaotic hound.<<else>>"Never thought I'd see a tamed hound," the attendant tells you, eyeing the creature.<</if>> "In your own dwelling, the muzzle can come off. But in public, it stays on, or you will be fined. Understood?" You nod, hating the idea but understanding the reasons. "Want a ride?" Prourc asks though the question need not be asked. He's already motioning for you to follow, and you are already heading towards the waiting dhole and wagon. "So where are your two friends?" "Wouldn't really call them friends after how I left them." "You must love being on other's shit lists?" [[“It was nothing personal.”|3.33NothingPersonal][$open -=3; $attitude +=3]] [[“No, but it seems unavoidable.”|3.33Unavoidable][$open +=3; $attitude +=3]] [[“Yes, it tickles me.”|3.33TicklesMe][$humor +=3; $attitude -=3]] [[“I did what I had too.”|3.33WhatIHadToo][$humor -=3; $attitude -=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++ | Light ++</span><</if>> "It wasn't anything personal," you shrug, sitting beside him. "I fail to believe that they'll agree." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "3.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++ | Light ++</span><</if>> "No, but it always seems like something I can't quite avoid." "That's what happens when you put yourself first," he shrugs, "you'll always find yourself pissing off someone." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "3.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Humor ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> "Yes, actually," you snort, "it tickles me." "I can't tell if you're serious or not," he starts, shaking his head, "and I don't think I want to find out." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "3.34">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Serious ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> "You say that as if I go out of my way. I did what I had to, which just so happened to not be in their favor." "I hear you," he nods, "just make sure to understand that some things may not go your way either." The two of you end the conversation there as Prourc motions for the dhole to head forward. <<include "3.34">>
While the buildings in the distance dwindle, the ones closer magnify and begin to take up most of your field of vision. Indeed Taouron is exactly how you remember it, surprisingly un-dusty for an area that holds nothing but sand. The street turns to a welcoming metallic gravel as people stop and peer at you in confusion. You can hardly blame them. This isn't the agricultural side of the planet, and everyone who needs to head somewhere does so with a hover car or speeder. Shifting your attention to Prourc, you ask, "Are you going to sell the dhole?" "I don't know. I feel like if I sell her, she'll go to a slaughterhouse. She helped me get here. I'd hate for that to be her fate." There's a twinge of fear in his voice, one that you can at least understand. If his store is anything like you're thinking, it's no place for a dhole. Finding someone who works in agriculture will be a long and arduous process, and giving her over to just anyone may become a mistake. The black markets aren't just found in the Outlands, if anything the ones in cities are far worse. You can think of a handful of species that would happily guzzle down dhole meat. The thought causes you to look over at $hound, he too, has been getting a few looks, and the muzzle has only seemed to further his aggravation. Hopefully, you will find what you're looking for soon. Otherwise, you will have to think of what to do with him. <<if $ticketforone is false>>\ "Why not just keep it in your store?" Zihr asks, genuine confusion on his face. "Dhole's don't belong in stores," Checl answers, a look of confusion and humor spreading across her face. "They're too messy, and it'll scare customers away." "Not in the Outlands," Zihr points out but seems to realize his mistake and quiets down. None of you say anything, but you're sure all of you think the same, a fact that probably angers Zihr more. <<if $guards_dead>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $solars to 70>><</nobr>>\ "Also," Checl starts, turning and showing you the satchel. "It's not much but I managed to keep some of the solars. Seventy for each of us." You thank her and collect your pieces. "Try to turn those digital as soon as possible," you tell the two of them, noticing Zihr's frown. "I'll show you," Checl reassures him and though he nods, he is once again in a mood. If he's going to be upset each time something out here throws him for a loop or proves to make a fool out of him, he'll find himself always pissed off ... So, nothing new then ... <</if>>\ <<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "Prourc," Zihr starts, "the woman back there told me that for me to get Zyrith inside, I have to bring one hundred and sixty solars, plus prove that he has a place to live." "I hate where this conversation is going," the old zeach grumbles. "I'll get the solars on my own, no problem." You raise a brow at that but remain silent. "But it would be helpful if you could let me use your place as an address." "Absolutely not. I don't want that raza in my ear. I had enough of hearing his shit on the trip." "Please," Zihr says, no added inflection to his words, no shift in tone, just a genuine plea. He shoots you a glance, and though you roll your eyes, you smirk. "Just have him work for you when he gets here," you tell Prourc. "You're going to need the help anyway. Worse case is you kick him out and do it yourself, which you were planning on doing anyway." Prourc throws the idea around before sighing, pointing a talon at Zihr. "Fine, but he'd better pull his weight." You guess there is something to Zihr's previous words about Prourc having a soft spot for you. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <a data-passage="3.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Thankfully, Prourc's store and new home aren't far. A few miles in and not following the more congested streets that lead deeper into the city and towards the capital. It sits amidst a few other buildings that are all near the same height. One looks to be a restaurant, and another, a store. The store's front windows are the usual hologram kind that allows customers to truly window shop and peer at the inventory before entering. The store is made of bricks, giving it an older feel and look that would never endure deeper in the city. In fact, the entire area has a feel to it that makes one feel much more at home and away from the fast-paced life that lies deeper within. It is as close as you'll ever get to the life you once lived back on Terra Genesis. <<if $ticketforone is false>>\ "This is amazing, Prourc," Checl answers. "Not exactly what I was expecting, though." "And what were you expecting? Some ultra fancy spot further in?" "Well, everyone knows the capital is where you make your money," she chimes in. You almost wish to chuckle. The Outlands demeanor has been shed for someone far more comfortable in her surroundings. "I rather stay away from all of that. Even if I could survive, my store wouldn't." Checl says something else, but you have stopped paying attention due to Prourc's probing gaze. <</if>>\ "You've been quiet," he speaks, looking from you to his new home. "You don't like it?" [[“You care?”|3.35YouCare]] [[“Just taking it all in.”|3.35TakingItAllIn]]
"When have you ever cared about what someone else thinks?" "Never, until now," he admits. His tone makes an initially innocent statement sound far more cryptic, and though your eyes follow him as he enters, you remain silent. <<if $ticketforone>>\ He pauses at the door, turning to look at you, "You off?" "Yea," you nod, "I should get a lay of it all before dark. See if my memory is still on my side." "Will you be back?" "Maybe." He nods in understanding and then enters. It's an odd and incomplete goodbye, but you're determined to start now. You need to see if the Dinami safe house is there and if you can gain the information you so desperately seek. With one last look at the store and then adding the location to your chip, just in case, you trek off with $hound trotting at your side. Those you pass provide a wide berth for you, their narrowed stares glaring at you, but you are less concerned with them than you are your destination. <<include "3.38">> <<else>>\ <<include "3.36">> <</if>>\
"Just taking it all in. The area is nice, and you have a great spot from what it looks like." "Let's hope that's true," he sighs. At first, you believe he says that simply due to nerves, but that thought changes as you consider his deflated posture. He enters his store, but you remain outside. <<if $ticketforone>>\ He pauses at the door, turning to look at you, "You off?" "Yea," you nod, "I should get a lay of it all before dark. See if my memory is still on my side." "Will you be back?" "Maybe." He nods in understanding and then enters. It's an odd and incomplete goodbye, but you're determined to start now. You need to see if the Dinami safe house is there and if you can gain the information you so desperately seek. With one last look at the store and then adding the location to your chip, just in case, you trek off with $hound trotting at your side. Those you pass provide a wide berth for you, their narrowed stares glaring at you, but you are less concerned with them than you are your destination. <<include "3.38">> <<else>>\ <<include "3.36">> <</if>>\
Studying the immediate area, you attempt to remember the way to the Dinami base. It's been a year since you've been here, and though you wish to say you remember it all, you do not. At most, you know that you stand in a slightly hectic area, not as frantic as the capital but far more lively than the quiet agricultural areas. Many of those coming in from the Outlands see themselves here, causing several general and clothing stores to move to the site. Along with that, it also drew in recruitment spaces, hoping to find some fresh and overlooked talent desperate for a job. And finally, guards who work the walls will move their families closer to their place of work. This not only brought typical styles of commerce but an assortment of bars that wisely followed the pockets of the military. The problem you face is remembering where the safe house resides. The entire area is divided into sectors, with the center being the capital, Tebriri. The safe house isn't in Tebriri, but you doubt it is in Taouron, perhaps closer to the Phanta or Talke sector. You scratch your head. In the past, Tsering was always in charge of getting you from one place to another. A mistake, you see now. But you'll just toss it on the steady-growing pile of them. "So?" Checl inquires. You turn only your head to watch her and Zihr approach. "Where to now?" [[“Nowhere.”|3.36Nowhere]] [[“This is where it ends.”|3.36WhereItEnds]] [[“I know where I'm going.”|3.36WhereImGoing]]
"Nowhere," you answer, straightening up, "this is where our paths go their separate ways." <<include "3.37">>
"It's been fun, but –" "But?" You can see how much she stiffens, begging you not to say what she probably anticipates. "But this is where we go our separate ways." <<include "3.37">>
"I know where I'm going," you tell her, straightening up. "Don't know about the two of you but good luck." "Good luck?" Checl looks at Zihr and then back at you. "What do you mean?" "This is where our affiliation ends." <<include "3.37">>
At first, Zihr's expression is unreadable, but then he sighs, unsurprised, or at least doing his damndest to hide it. He turns on his heel to walk away, but Checl grabs him, yanking him back to her side with a force that surprises both of you. "No!" she shouts. "This is not how this ends." Her voice rises in a mix of anger and sadness. She turns to you with pleading eyes. "Please. We've been through too much." [[“It's been an adventure.”|3.37Adventure]] [[“Had to end sometime.”|3.37HadToEnd]] [[“Sorry, Checl.”|3.37SorryChecl]] [[Just go.|3.37JustGo]]
"I know this isn't what you want to hear," you start, managing a small smile as you take a few steps back to dissuade her from grabbing you, "but it's been fun, it really has. A real adventure." "Are you serious?" she shouts, glaring at you, "were you planning this the entire time?" "Checl," you sigh, "I've been planning this since I stepped foot in the Outlands." //Fell//, your brain chooses to correct and you roll your eyes at the reminder. "So we never meant anything to you?" Your gaze shifts to Zihr, who looks on inquisitively. On the one hand, there's no need to lie. This will be the last time you see each other, but that's just it. Why provide even more pain on a parting? "Goodbye," you tell them, turning and going on your way. <<include "3.38">>
"Had to end sometime," you point out, putting enough space between you to dissuade her from grabbing you. "How else would you like it to happen?" Looking both of them over, you hum in thought, realizing that this will be your last time together. A part of you, one that isn't so jaded from experiences like this, wishes to reach out and tell them your thoughts. How the last few months have meant something to you, even if on a scale that neither of them will appreciate. But that part of you is minuscule. So small that even a whisper can barely describe the depths of its persuasiveness on you. <<include "3.38">>
"Sorry, Checl," you start, trying to think of what else you can say, but the truth is, there's nothing more to add. You back away before she can grab you, and even then, continue to back away from the two of them. "$name," she shouts as you go, but understands that there's nothing she can do to stop you. You give her an apologetic glance, but say nothing more as you leave. <<include "3.38">>
Her hold is on Zihr, not you. And you take the opportunity to put even more space between you as you back away. "$name!" she shouts as you go, but understands that there's nothing she can do to stop you. You can imagine her anger but that isn't your problem anymore. <<include "3.38">>
As you go, you decide that your best course of action is to go to the places you believe the safe house to be. If that fails, you'll divide Taouron into a grid and check it piece by piece before moving on to the next sector. The thought causes you to cringe. It isn't the most time-efficient job, and though there is no time limit, you fear one may arise. <a data-passage="Chapter Four"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_4.png" alt="Chapter Four" style="float:center"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<set $guards_dead to false; $injury_leg to false; $deadgangmembers to false>> <<playlist "flashback" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<include "stattamer">> <</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2026.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2026. Location: Miarilia. Authorities are still baffled by the disappearance of yet another small town, this time in Arizona. This will be the third in the last four months. Some speculation accuses Terra Prime of nefarious purposes. By Unknown Reporter. Excerpt from “Midi Papers”"> <span class ="flashback">"Ayúdame!" "Gott stehe uns bei." "You fuckers! Let me out! Let me out!" "Padre nostro che sei nei cieli, sia santificato il tuo nome, venga il tuo regno …" It sounds like a hundred voices rise and fall like the crescendo of an orchestra. A culmination of their suffering for the grand climax of a tale that will have far more entries later. It terrifies you how easy it is to picture your voice joining theirs, your south-midi drawl singing about distant lands and the kind of folks that come from them. Singing about magnificent red rock mountains and sprawling deserts, about a distant ocean that you've never seen but heard so much about. From beside you, Dante whispers what you believe are assurances to a slumbering Camila. His grip around her is tight, as if his arms alone will shield her from the atrocities that now surround you. She, like most of the little ones who had been chosen, was asleep. Some had never truly woken up once the pods unlocked, their tired eyes hardly opening as willing adults volunteered to carry them. Others, like Camila, were awake for only so long before complete exhaustion overtook them. Part of you wishes the same had happened to you; at least then, you would be filled with a particular kind of ignorance.</span> <a data-passage="2FB"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">The cells you pass feel like something from a horror movie. A fetid smell pervades the air, and though a red barrier makes it difficult to see those within, those residing up against it are clear. They are disheveled, and their appearances alone tell you what to soon expect from your captors. Most of them appear haggard, skin hanging off of bones like the loose clothing you have all been given. One causes you to stop, their red-brimmed eyes wide as their mouth hangs open, and white liquid dribbles out of their mouth. Their skin is brittle and cracked, reminding you of a porcelain doll who has been dropped and whose repair has been put off. They catch your stare and, though you didn't believe it possible, their eyes enlarge. "You'll die here," they scream, their voice raspy but booming. Dante grabs your hand and yanks you after him, but your eyes do not shift from that figure as they continue screaming. You'll die here. You'll die here. Their screams cut off by their own gravelly weeping. You pass by a dozen more cells before your captors finally slow down and usher you and nearly a hundred others into a cell hardly bigger than your living room. Your living room. It all feels far away. The pods they shoved you into minimized brain activity, but didn't neutralize it entirely. Lying there, you felt like an inanimate object with just enough cognizant awareness to know where and who you were. Days upon days, maybe even a month or more of coming to grips with the loss of your entire family and home. All while watching those who took that away walk past, taking what you guess were diagnostics. At rare moments they would stop near your pod, interacting with something before speaking in that guttural language that you found yourself beginning to detest.</span> [[You screamed and cursed.|2FBScreamed]] [[You cried.|2FBCried]] [[You wanted answers.|2FBAnswers]]
<span class ="flashback">If you could have done it all physically, you probably wouldn't have a voice anymore. It would have grown hoarse from misuse. Mentally, you screamed all day and night. You cursed the trarkran and those who allowed their wretched ships to breach terran atmosphere. You prayed that they burn for their transgressions, rot in the same liquid prison you and the others currently find yourselves in. A condign fate.</span> <<include "2FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">Or at least your mind was sobbing. If any tears did escape, they were slow and minuscule, but you doubt it was possible. Instead, you feel like you spent the majority of the trip either asleep or weeping for all that you lost. You cried for all those surrounding you, for those who died in a puddle of their own blood, who were separated from their loved ones … and for the future you didn't dare try to imagine.</span> <<include "2FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">There were few things worse than being in suspended animation with a brain in a state of abeyance. There is a simple understanding that time is passing and you're headed somewhere. But your brain was never able to further that knowledge, its dormancy more of a wall than some kind of recommendation. So through all of it, questions began to arise that never met a question mark but were instead headed off by ellipsis.</span> <<include "2FB.1">>
<span class ="flashback">Now you are here. You can't recall much of what happened; it all passed by more like a dream than your actual reality. You only remember the trarkrans stripping you of everything you managed to have from Genesis before throwing you into a room with boiling water and some kind of dusty smoke shooting up around you. Many were fine, but few descended into fits of coughing, one even screaming as blood began to pour from their eyes. You remember …</span> [[… rushing to help them.|2FBRushingHelp][$medical +=3]] [[… standing there and just staring.|2FBStandStare]] [[… screaming for someone to come help.|2FBScreaming][$tact +=3]] [[… nothing.|2FBNothing]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Medical ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You weren't quite sure what kind of aid you could contribute, but you were determined to do all that you could. You knew very little about medical ailments, and what you did know dwindled even more when faced with alien origins. But you tried. You failed. But you did try. They didn't have long to live after blood began to seep from their eyes and then their mouth. They died in your arms. An adult gripping the hand of a child, as they craved contact for the last few seconds of their life. Then you were pulled away, whether by Dante or another terran.</span> <<include "2FB.2">>
<span class ="flashback">You found yourself unable to do much of anything besides stare on. It was something that the bulk of you did. None of you knew how to help them through the pain, if it was even possible, and most of you were still trying to overcome the constant visions of your family and friends dying. In a way, this was just another body to add to dozens, probably hundreds. What was a stranger when all those you loved had vanished? A stranger was just another face lucky enough to leave this plane.</span> <<include "2FB.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Diplomacy ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You recall screaming for others to help, grabbing onto who you thought was Dante, and trying to drag him over. The world felt like it had frozen in place, everything coming to a pause as you watch the person drop to their knees, their eyes pleading for some kind of succor. At that exact moment, despite you screaming, you recall wondering just what either of you expected to happen. Did they expect to find help? How long did it take for them to realize that they would see no more of this alien planet? That their last stop would be this room. This room with charcoal-colored walls that resembled that of coal and slate.</span> <<include "2FB.2">>
<span class ="flashback">You're not exactly proud of what you did, or more so, the lack thereof. When you say nothing, you don't mean that you just stood there and watched, providing a semblance of commiseration by remaining close so that they could die amongst those who understood their pain. That is what the bulk did. They stared on with sullen eyes but made no move to help, possibly because they understood there was nothing they could do. You hardly even heard their screams of pain. You continued preparing before moving towards the door, towards the guards, so that they could lead you to the next hellhole. That person with the bleeding eyes, if they were lucky, they'd die and free themselves from a fate the rest of you would have to shoulder.</span> <<include "2FB.2">>
<span class ="flashback">After all of that, they gave you a scratchy cloth that resembled both a robe and a bathing suit. If nudeness meant anything to them, they exhibited no signs of it being a taboo. The march from the smoke showers to the cell was done in the nude, and only once you crossed the threshold did they give you garments. Apart from that, the in-between flees your mind. You remember a few people screaming and fighting … then dying. Yes, you remember the death because you had stared at the way the blood boiled when touching the surfaces of the building. "Camila. $name," Dante had muttered as he pulled the two of you close. He grabbed both of your hands and squeezed. "Promesa. We do not separate; we are all we have left. And we do not forget where we came from. They will not take anything else from us." "Je promesa," you and Camila had both said, and Dante brought both of you in for a hug. You don't remember if you hugged him back, but Camila did. She had resided between the two of you and was whimpering off a prayer that you know she hardly knows or believes. You were raised by a religious mother and abandoned by a father whose religious affiliations were kept silent. If he was as holy as your mother, you can't rightfully recall. Before he left, you remember visiting church every Tuesday and Sunday. You stood alongside other children who didn't exactly understand why they were there, the depth that religion carried and how in ancient days, wars were held due to it.</span> [[You are one of them. (Atheist Standing)|2FB.3][$religious to "none"]] [[You understood and believed. (Theistic Standing)|2FB.3][$religious to "gp"]] [[You believed in teachings and that's about it. (Nontheistic Standing)|2FB.3][$religious to "gnp"]] [[You understood, but didn't truly care. (Agnostic Standing)|2FB.3][$religious to "unk"]]
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> <span class ="flashback">A quick jostling and you find yourself awake with what feels like a knot on the left side of your head. It takes less than a minute to remember where you are and what has probably transpired for you to have gained such a bruise. The auction has awakened. A glance up tells you the time of day, and due to not hearing a roaring crowd, you at least know that it has only just opened itself to the public. The auctioneers will be glancing over notes, learning who will be in attendance, and walking the halls to look at the stock to decide how best to pitch their sales. The technicians will be manning the containers and prepping the next merchandise haul. You can practically envision the guards sharpening their weapons, bored because they, just like you, know nothing will warrant their use. Those who wish to make an appearance will just now be making their way inside, while others bid from a distance. It took you less than a week—or what you believe is a week—to understand how this place functions, and that the person from before was not entirely wrong. ''You'll die here.'' Did they know how right they were? A cell once holding a hundred has slowly trickled down to a little over fifty for a multitude of reasons. And like your cell, hundreds of others exist. All packed with Terran Genisers screaming hollowly for who knows what anymore. Soon, all of your time will come when you are ushered out of your incommodious accommodations and into a bigger arena. "$name?" Camila questions, her eyes fluttering open, and her grip on your arm tightens. "I'm here," you whisper to her, finding your voice as hoarse as before. The water in the troughs has recently been refilled, meaning that instead of being room temperature at the very least, it was boiling hot. A few risked their throats simply to fend off the threat of dehydration. But boiling hot back home takes on an entirely different meaning here. So much so that you have come to assume that the trarkran species is naturally hot-blooded, able to withstand temperatures that would cause even the environmental-adaptive terran to cease to exist. And all of this fails to even mention the fact that the water was in a trough. How quick so many of you went from refusing to debase yourselves to caring nothing about personal pride. Food was less frequent and in the shape of odd rock-like nutrient bars. They did little for your stomach, typically requiring three or more to provide any kind of sustenance.</span> [[To make it worse, you usually give yours to Camila.|2FBHerFood][$pastAttitude +=5]] [[You ate whenever you could.|2FBMyFood]] [[You had yours and stolen those of others.|2FBTheirFood][$pastAttitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A few small bites would be all you took before handing the rest to Camila. Always making sure to get enough to somewhat stave off starvation and push away side effects skulking their way to the surface. The rest would be Camila's. Those who noticed this had once tried to interfere and take it for themselves, but Dante put a stop to that quickly. The general energy of your cell had deteriorated slower than most, or at least that is what you constantly told yourself.</span> [[You strove to be a light.|2FBTheLight][$pastAttitude +=5; $tact +=2; $medical +=2]] [[You remained in the darkness.|2FBDarknessHasCoalCookies][$pastAttitude -=5; $smarts +=2; $agility +=2]]
<span class ="flashback">Most of you learned to conserve the rocks. Bloody, chipped nails and teeth becoming an unfortunate consequence of not only picking slowly at their given brick, but also at the building as if it too would hold the same nutrients. You watched as decent people became monsters to their needs—fighting and sometimes killing simply to get more than what was given. At first, some would step in<<if $dante_brave>>, Dante being one of them<</if>>. But as time passed, all those who sought to maintain peace realized they didn't hold the energy for such preservation. And so, a death became a death. The general energy of your cell had deteriorated slower than most, or at least that is what you constantly told yourself.</span> [[You strove to be a light.|2FBTheLight][$pastAttitude +=5; $tact +=2; $medical +=2]] [[You remained in the darkness.|2FBDarknessHasCoalCookies][$pastAttitude -=5; $smarts +=2; $agility +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">It was a lesson you learned from another while watching him bully three children into giving up their rocks. As they let out hoarse-sounding sobs, the man devoured every last crumb, deaf to their howls. Dante argued with you when you first proposed doing the same, but that was another lesson you learned. Sometimes, even when others are not on your side, you still have to do what is best for you and those you love. Food became less of a problem after that. Despite being disliked, the general energy of your cell had deteriorated slower than most, or at least that is what you constantly told yourself.</span> [[You strove to be a light.|2FBTheLight][$pastAttitude +=5; $tact +=2; $medical +=2]] [[You remained in the darkness.|2FBDarknessHasCoalCookies][$pastAttitude -=5; $smarts +=2; $agility +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++ | Extrovert ++ | Medical ++ | Diplomacy ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback"><<if hasVisited("2FBTheirFood")>>It was an odd revelation for you, and perhaps those in your cell. One moment, you're stealing their food, coming up with a plethora of excuses. Next, you're helping them out by singing and telling stories to keep morale somewhat above disastrous levels. Dante despised the action a little less because of that, telling himself that it was similar to that of a tax or payment for how much you were helping others. You did not truly agree, but you also didn't truly care about pardoning yourself.<<else>>There was not much a child could do, but you found it easy to make others smile, and so you utilized that. You entertained others with stories, and when they decided to sing, you joined in. You helped whenever you could, whether it was by making the little ones feel better, helping the older terrans reach the bathroom pads, or providing a helping hand to the few who found themselves in the cell's makeshift infirmary. Anything to bring a little light to the darkness around you.<</if>></span> <a data-passage="2FB.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++ | Introvert ++ | Intelligence ++ | Agility ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You typically stayed away from the others, keeping to yourself unless socialization was needed. When they got together to recount stories, you stayed to your corner, ignoring Dante's probes of joining in. You ignored them when they sang and regarded their prayer circles as something that didn't concern you. You kept your mind sharp by viewing them, their individual quirks and how they created a social structure even when everything that you knew had been destroyed. When you weren't doing that, you worked out and kept your body in some kind of shape. Most of the time, you don't have the energy, so you kept fitness low on your list, but found a few ways to keep your muscles activated in other, creative ways.</span> <a data-passage="2FB.4"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"What's going on?" your sister asks, her question repeated by others now waking up. Your cell's barely transparent force field vanishes as a group of guards walks into view. At first, they speak amongst themselves, speaking in a language so harsh and profound that you had given up trying to discern one word from the next. But then the guards move in and, like cattle, split you into four groups. You release a sigh of relief to find that your remaining family stands beside you. As long as they are there, you can face whatever comes next. The coordinating guard issues more orders, and one by one, you're marched out of the cell and down a hallway. The first part feels familiar, a dank hallway smelling of sulfur. Shards of prismatic glass dangle from the ceiling, acting as a kind of refractory torch, as you walk further. You turn down another corridor into a large, square room that mirrors the hallways' appearance. The only difference is that the floor feels sticky and mechanical bars stick out of the walls. The entryways close, and a foreign, robotic voice begins to speak. Words that mean nothing to you echo throughout your mind as the mechanical bars move, spraying a slick and olid kind of liquid over all you. You're sure you're meant to feel clean, but you leave the area feeling the opposite. Instead, you feel like an intruder inside your own skin. You wish to gain freedom but find this glistening prison to be your tomb. The looming smell of fetid musk and ammonia no longer grips your nostrils, but another has only replaced it. You now enter a hall where you see your first rays of light. But it is short-lived as the guards refuse to let any of you stop. Every sliver of light you walk by mocks you. The warmth is there. It calls for you, and then suddenly, you are in front of it. You shy away from the intense heat that greets you, a welcomed encroacher that refuses to leave once you have asked it to depart. The thought that continues to ricochet through your mind is that this is not your sun. This is the sun of an alien species who stole you from your home, killed your family, and immure you worse than cattle.</span> [[Bile rises in your throat.|2FBSick]] [[It's hard to feel anything more than numbness.|2FBNumbness]] [[You fight against tears.|2FBTears]]
<span class ="flashback">The disgusting feeling of bile rising causes you to look away and stare at the ground. You need to focus on something, anything besides the giant, light blue flaming mass in the sky. Yet, even as you tell yourself not to think of it, your mind replays the massive size of the star, the color, and how you can hardly even look towards it without your retinas feeling like they'll shrivel. You choke on the chunky liquid in your throat, saved only by the soothing voice of Dante as he distracts your mind. "Focus on me and my voice. Hold my hand. Ground yourself."</span> <<include "2FB.5">>
<span class ="flashback">You've lost count of how long you had been in that container. All you know is that it's been too long, and after so much time, the thought of home feels more like some foreign thought that invades your mind less and less. You, like everyone else, have long since stopped crying. Instead, you stare into a void and wonder what this world will turn you into. Already, your skin has hardened to combat the overwhelming heat. Your insides shifting to adapt to the lack of water it receives. Physical changes have already occurred, and you know that all of you are simply waiting for the emotional and mental impact.</span> <<include "2FB.5">>
<span class ="flashback">Tears rush to your eyes, surprising you that you still have tears to shed. How many times have you cried since arriving here? Tears for a fallen family and a house and planet you may never see again. Tears for your sister and brother and the situation that you feel is hopeless.</span> <<include "2FB.5">>
<span class ="flashback">A guard grunts and points to a large dome-like platform where others reside then separate you into groups of ten. You're corralled to a circle where a force field appears as soon as the last person steps onto it, and the platform shifts, moving you away. The world on the other side of the force field is basically nonexistent. You can barely make out moving figures, but that's it. The only thing that has a true force is the sun. Omniscient amongst everything else. Though none of you can see, you can hear the proceedings. Though that does little for you when you fail to grasp what is being said. Along with the auctioneer, you can hear an automated voice that cuts in and out as new bids are placed. For something so fast, it is ridiculous how orderly it all seems. The auctioneer will scream, the automated voice then rings out, and your platform shifts as you surmise a new group is up to be bid upon. One thing that you notice is that everyone standing on the circle is moved. It doesn't seem like individuals are being bid on, but all those within. Or at least that is what you tell yourself to not panic. You need hope, no matter how foolish it seems. The platform moves, and this time a bright, but warm, light shines overhead, spotlighting all of you within. You can now make out some of those on the other side. Despite your assumptions, the crowd is relatively small. Perhaps a hundred at most when you previously believed there to be thousands due to the volume. You fail to make out faces. All the figures are simply that, figures. But you realize that at least one of these faces will be something more shortly. One of these faces will look upon all of you standing in this circle and chart your future. And you tremble as you realize there is nothing you can do.</span> <a data-passage="2.00"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<playlist "flashback" stop>> <<playlist "ambient" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_2.png"> In the distance, you can hear another building give way, finished with its struggle as it collapses into rubble. The sounds of war do not ebb, and you have no doubt it won't anytime soon. Pushing it to the side as best you can, you turn and wander back into the apartment. Checl flits around and with dexterous hands grab items and line them up on the kitchen counter before pausing, thinking something through, and then removing and replacing it with another. You take a seat, idly watching her work. There is little you can think to do. You fell from that plane with only the clothes on your back and since then, have had to rebuild.<<if $souvenir is "nothing">><<else>> The only reason you didn't lose your $souvenir is because you hardly go anywhere without it.<</if>> You'll pack a bag full of clothes, but nothing else comes to mind to take. You were never one to have keepsakes and most of anything having value remains in your Dinami room, probably thrown out or re-purposed for another. "Are you done packing?" Checl asks, moving a cluster of dehyradted food to the side before going to a new counter and looking through it. "We don't need dishes, right? Do you think we should take some of the dishes?" [[“Yea, because we'll obviously use them.”|2.00ObviouslyUseThem][$humor +=3]] [[“What will we do with dirty dishes?”|2.00DirtyDishes][$humor -=3]] [[“Try asking smarter questions.”|2.00SmarterQuestions][$checl -=3]] [[“You're carrying them then.”|2.00CarryingThem][$checl +=3]] [[Don't answer.|2.00NoAnswer]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Yes, because we will obviously need a bunch of dirty dishes while in the Spires. I love the idea of carrying something so heavy around bec-" "Alright, I get it," she huffs, "the answer is no." "Good catch," you sneer, rolling your eyes. <<include "2.01">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> "Checl, what will we do with a bunch of dirty dishes?" You don't allow her to answer, mainly because you fear she will actually attempt to find a reason. "Just leave them for whoever finds this place next." She nods, closing the cabinet door and moving on to the next. <<include "2.01">>
"Alright, now try asking a smarter question." "You know, $name, you can just say yes or no. You don't have to be rude." "Ever heard the phrase, ask stupid questions, get stupid answers?" "No, but it's nice to know that your answer was just as stupid as my question." "I do try and lower myself to the levels of those around me." She sends you a glare that just causes you to chuckle. You don't usually go back and forth with Checl, but it's nice to do so sometimes. It's better than doing it with Zihr anyway; he seems to take everything too seriously. <<include "2.01">>
"You bring 'em, you carry 'em." "They can't be that heavy," she pouts, and you raise a brow. "I can go fetch you a bag, and you can test those words for yourself." <<include "2.01">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Introvert ++</span><</if>> You hear her, but the words morph into every other thing that she has said since she started her journey around the kitchen. If it was important enough, she'll repeat herself, grab your attention, or all of the above. <<include "2.01">>
"Oh, but did you finish packing?" Checl re-asks. <<if hasVisited("2.00NoAnswer")>>You wave your hand as if that will get her to stop asking you questions, and talking to you entirely.<<else>>"Sure. Didn't have much to pack anyway."<</if>> She pauses, sighing as if all the steam has finally left her. "Do you need me to go through your room and double-check?" [[“Go ahead.”|2.01GoAhead]] [[“No, mom.”|2.01NoMom]] [[“Can you stop?”|2.01CanYouChill]]
"Knock yourself out. You seem to need something to occupy yourself with." <<include "2.02">>
"No, mom. I just said I already packed, I don't need you going in behind me like I'm some careless child." <<include "2.02">>
"Can you stop? Calm down. Breathe." <<include "2.02">>
"What else can I do?" she questions, continuing her flit around the kitchen. "Leaving until it's time to go is stupid because I may get caught up in the fighting. At least this will keep my mind off of it. Also, have you seen Zihr? I don't remember if he came back last night." You shrug. You haven't seen him either and just surmised that whatever business he had to handle was still happening. "I'm worried. Can-" "Oh, but you're not worried about me going out there to find him?" you snort, mentally finishing Checl's question. "You're right, that was thoughtless." Rolling your eyes, you stand, grabbing a bored $hound's attention as you do so. You might as well go and do something; otherwise, you'll be sitting here doing nothing for the next two days besides entertaining Checl's many packing questions. "Wait, so you'll really go look for him? Thank you, $name!" <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“I expect a kiss for my efforts.”|2.02Kiss][$checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=3]]<<else>>[[“I expect a kiss for my efforts.”|2.02Kiss][$checlRoPo +=1; $checl -=3]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You're lucky you're cute.”|2.02LuckyCute][$checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=3]]<<else>>[[“You're lucky you're cute.”|2.02LuckyCute][$checlRoPo +=1; $checl +=3]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“You're welcome.”|2.02Welcome]] [[“Yea, yea.”|2.02Yea]] [[“Anything else you need, Your Majesty?”|2.02AnythingElse]] [[Hum in acknowledgment.|2.02Hum]]
You huff, getting to your feet. "Alright." "Alright?" "Alright. But when I return, I expect a kiss for all my efforts." She seems flummoxed at first before your request truly sets in. When it does catch up, she avoids eye contact. "I'll promise one if you do one more thing for me." "Oh, so we're bartering now?" <<include "2.03">>
"Oh, you're so lucky you're cute," you point out. "Cute enough to ask you to add one more stop to your list for today?" "Oh, so now you're just using me?" you laugh, and she chuckles softly. <<include "2.03">>
"You're welcome," you reply. Again, it was better than just sitting around and doing nothing or being pulled into packing up the few things that matter in the apartment. "Oh, and one more thing?" "What is it?" <<include "2.03">>
"Yea, yea," you mumble, heading towards the balcony. "One more thing?" she calls out, and you glance over your shoulder, warning her with only a glance to consider her following words wisely. <<include "2.03">>
"Of course. Anything else you need doing, Your Majesty," you shout back, meaning to say it in a 'look what you have me doing' sort of way. Yet, Checl answers, telling you that she didn't pick up on your tone. She either ignored the "Your Majesty" line or the phrase failed to translate. <<include "2.03">>
You do nothing more than hum in acknowledgment as you start to leave. "Oh, also, can I ask one more thing?" You glance at her, awaiting the request. <<include "2.03">>
"Can you stop by the bar and tell Riq what's happening. I don't want her worrying that maybe the fighting got me." "Save the raza and quit your job for you. <<if $humor >=50>>Need me to cancel your cable for you too?<<else>>Got it.<</if>>" You're on the staircase balcony before Checl can mutter off a retort. While you leave the long way, $hound takes a much shorter path. The holes in the floors and walls all lead to the bottom anyway. You once tried to clear out the rubble along the path but find it to be too much and obscenely dangerous when a ladder existed. <a data-passage="2.04"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Once on the ground, you bring up your terminal and attempt to call Zihr, unsurprised when he doesn't pick up, though that could be due to a weak signal. Ever since the fighting began, the signal has fluctuated, meaning that the gang, purposely or not, had hit the northern towers and were well on their way to cutting off the Outlands from the rest of Crion. You wonder what will happen then. What sort of panic will take hold. Hopefully, no matter what it is, you'll be gone by then. [[But it bothers you that you're leaving the Outlands in such a state.|2.05][$attitude +=3]] [[It's not ideal but it must be done.|2.05]] [[Two days can't go by fast enough.|2.05][$attitude -=3]]
Your first stop is the cantina. Not only is it closer, but Zihr still hasn't returned your call, and if that continues to be so, you'll have to return home to get something that belongs to the raza for $hound to follow. The area is littered with people. The outside now houses interim tents and cots filled with bodies and those trying to help. You order $hound to wait outside and away from others. Hopefully, he'll find no problems, and if not, well … The inside is just as busy and crowded. A few zeaches are still dancing, entertaining the crowd closer to the stage, while everyone else is far more concerned with tending the wounded and providing meals for those who have sought such accommodations out. "$name!" Riq says breathlessly, approaching you. You can count on one hand how many times you've seen the woman out here on the floor and not behind the bar. "I'm so happy you're okay. Is Checl …" She doesn't let herself finish that sentence, her eyes portraying just how much the question has added to her mounting anxiety. "She's fine. In fact, she sent me to tell you that and also that she won't be back." Riq opens her mouth but then closes it as realization appears, nodding as she smiles softly. "You guys finally managed to scrounge up enough solars to get the hell out of this place, huh? Are the—" Riq never finishes her question as her eyes widen in fear, and the woman, who has never seemed afraid of others, shrinks. <a data-passage="2.06"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Riq!" a thick-necked raza leading two others shouts, opening his arms wide as if greeting an old friend. His primary color is a dark tan, with his secondary one being a toxic green. His face, like that of his compatriots, is covered with some kind of gang-affiliated marking that looks like it was performed erratically. "Did you give any thought to my proposition?" One glance tells you all that you need to know, not to mention that his friends seem to behave like stereotypical gang members. Whichever gang he belongs to, you don't really take note of. But his presence unnerves everyone who glances over. One of the members begins pestering a group eating, grabbing whatever food looks appetizing to scarf down while also chugging their drinks, caring little for the spit that dribbles down his chin. The third heads straight towards a working zeach, whispering something in her ear, and you can imagine that no is not a word that properly translates. "Would it matter what my answer is?" Riq shouts, and your attention returns to the leader, who studies her coolly, unfazed by her ire. "You didn't listen then, so I doubt you'll listen now." "I told you to think about it," he grins, shrugging as he vaults over the counter and begins perusing the bottles. "Get out of my fucking bar," she screams, shocking even you, but the raza acts as if she whispered the words instead. "Seems like I wasn't the only one not listening," he finally says after picking up a dark red bottle. He twists the top off and smells it. Seeming content with whatever it is, he takes a swig and leans forward. "I told you last time that this place ain't yours no more. It and its property belong to the <<link 'Howlers'>><<dialog 'Codex - Faction'>>The Wasteland Howlers is a gang local to the Dread Outlands, though they have a smaller pocket existence in the ''Restless Outlands.'' The group deals in extortion, drug creation and trafficking, and murder. They are notorious for bullying businesses into paying protection fees, where most of their income comes from. Most are nothing more than the common thug.<</dialog>><</link>>. You can either decide to work with us or get kicked out there on your ass." You see where this is headed. The sole question is, what are you going to do about it? <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>And it would be wise to remember that you no longer have a weapon.<</if>> [[Leave. This isn't your fight.|2.06Leave]] [[Talk him down.|2.06TalkHimDown][$approach +=3]] <<if not hasVisited("1.27Market")>>\[[He wants to get violent, you can get violent.|2.06Violence][$approach -=10]]<</if>>\
You don't even bother sticking around for whatever this is about to unfold into. You came by to tell Riq that Checl quit, and you did that. Whatever this was, it wasn't your business. Nodding a farewell to Riq, you head towards the door just as she grabs your sleeve. "Just like that?" she questions. "Any other day, I have to beg for you not to intervene, but //now// you choose to be a pussy and walk!?" <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>"What do you want me to do? I don't have a gun. I'd be bringing fists to a gun fight. I'm crazy but even I have limits."<<else>>"Yea," you snort, snatching your arm back, "because that's really the way to get me to stay."<</if>> "Let the painted-up terran go, Riq. They're just trying to make smart decisions. This isn't their fight." His words reach your ears but don't induce a reaction; nothing but his mention of your markings makes you want to twitch. "I'll pay you," Riq hisses 'neath her breath. [[Leave.|2.06Leave2][$approach -=5]] [[Take her up on the offer.|2.06Offer][$solars +=80]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> "You can't afford me," you hiss right back and head to the door. Riq doesn't stop you this time—though she doesn't keep her insults to herself either—and you return outside. Calling $hound to your side, you go down the road. You wonder what will happen to Riq and the bar. If she'll get herself killed or if she'll fold and do as they said. You doubt Riq would just give the cantina over to them; it was her life and pride. So if she chooses to die over it, who were you to get in the way of that? <a data-passage="2.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $approach >=60>>\ <<set $approach +=5>> <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> <<else>>\ <<set $approach -=5>> <<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <</if>>\ "Send it then," you answer, and though she seems angry that it has come down to her having to pay you, she also seems happy enough to do so if it means getting rid of these interlopers. She backs away, bringing up her terminal and typing. The raza at the bar stiffens, not understanding what's happening as he glances between the two of you. "There," she huffs, shaking her head and cussing. You get a notification. Eighty solars deposited. You suppose you should have worked out a price, but this will do; another version of you would have done it for free. Glancing over at the raza, he stiffens, knowing what's about to happen. You won't have the element of surprise on your side. Furthermore, he has two other people to supply him with backup, and they have placed themselves in strategic positions. It's wise to believe they are smart enough to have done such a thing purposely. It's also wise to assume that they don't care about casualties, <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>and unlike them, you don't have a weapon. Though, if you can get to the leader in time and take his, then you'll feel a lot less naked.<<else>>if you whip out a gun—like you plan to do—they will respond in kind and will shoot everyone until you are no longer a threat.<</if>> Those precious few seconds are all you get before the raza is moving to subdue you, his gun raised as a bolt of electricity races towards you. At least he isn't aiming to kill you ... yet. You can't say the same. Dodging, you lunge towards a bar stool and grab it, finding it heavier than expected. It won't hinder your plans for it, but it will eliminate some possibilities, like throwing it straight at the face of the shaph near those eating. Focusing on the raza, you rest two hands on the object and jab it into his face, thankful for how solid it is as he tries to shoot you again. He whimpers in pain as he stumbles back, and this time, when you jab, you use the momentum to throw it at his head and then vault the counter as shots ring out. The entire bar descends into chaos <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>, but now you have a gun at least.<<else>>and you can only hope that the many patrons choose to stay out of the way and not make a mad dash to the exit.<</if>> "You broke my nose," the man says, surprisingly still conscious. "Oh, for fucks sake," you grumble. [[Kill him.|2.06KillHim][$attitude -=5]] [[Stun him.|2.06StunHim][$attitude +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You can hear Zihr now, complaining about how vile and unnecessary your actions are. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveNone")>>But if you learned anything, it's to take care of even those who appear the least dangerous; your little friend from the other day has taught you as much.<<else>>But if you learned anything, it's to take care of even those who appear the least dangerous.<</if>> Everyone has teeth, and since you can't pluck them you'll have to act before they learn to use them. <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>Taking the gun off of its stun mode, you shoot the man and focus on his two pals.<<else>>You shoot him before he can say anything more, focusing now on his two pals.<</if>> <<include "2.06Offer2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You see little reason to kill him when you can facilely incapacitate him. <<if hasVisited("1.27Market")>>You shoot him in the arm,<<else>>Making sure your gun is on stun, you shoot him in the arm,<</if>> watching as the electricity races through his body as he convulses before passing out soon after. Now, you just have to deal with his two pals. <<include "2.06Offer2">>
Popping up, you grab a bottle and launch it at the closest body, which happens to be the shaph. Riq helps out by landing a beautiful punch. They'll be dazed after that, so you focus on the last one, a terran. Ducking, you inch closer to the end of the counter while they shoot at bottles as if the bullet will miraculously ricochet off and hit you. [[Take the shot.|2.06RiskTakeTheShot]] <<if $smarts >=10 or $weapons >=10>>[[Figure out the gun they're using.|2.06GunUse]]<</if>> <<if $markings is "blue">>[[Use your stealth abilities.|2.06StealthUse]]<</if>>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Chaotic ++</span><</if>> One in front, one behind, and the other to your left. If you didn't know better, you'd say they set themselves up strategically to quell any kind of conflict. It's wiser to believe them that smart than to underestimate them. It's also wise to assume that they don't care about casualties, if you whip out a gun—like you plan to do—they will respond in kind and will shoot everyone until you are no longer a threat. Bottles, the bar stool, and the counter. A plan unfolds, and you nod confidently before glancing at Riq, who has been playing verbal whiplash with the lead gang member. "Riq," you state, finally causing her to pause as she glances over at you. "You in the mood for my nonsense this time?" She gazes at you in confusion until realization finally appears, and she nods. Great. You walk to the bar and sit, sliding the nearest bar stool closer until you can comfortably prop your foot up on the bottom rung. Tilting it, you test how heavy it may be. Too heavy, you decide, so mark the stool off the list of potential weapons. "Can I get that green and white bottle," you ask the man, pointing to one behind him. "Do I look like the fucking bartender to you?" "Yes, very much so." You almost snatch his bottle but decide you would rather not place your lips on something with traces of him. "Get it your fucking -" The sentence is never completed as you surge forward and grab hold of his shirt and yank him closer. Once you can, you move so that your other hand moves to the back of his head and slams it down on the counter. You jump across the counter, grabbing the man and using him as a shield as both his compatriots begin attacking. He wasn't dead before, but he sure is now. Dropping him, you simultaneously grab a bottle with your free hand, launching it at the closest body, who happened to be the shaph pestering those eating. Riq even helps out by landing a beautiful punch. They'll be dazed after that, so you focus on the last one, a terran. Ducking, you inch closer to the end of the counter while they shoot at bottles as if the bullet will miraculously ricochet off and hit you. [[Take the shot.|2.06RiskTakeTheShot]] <<if $smarts >=10 or $weapons >=10>>[[Figure out the gun they're using.|2.06GunUse]]<</if>> <<if $markings is "blue">>[[Use your stealth abilities.|2.06StealthUse]]<</if>> <<if $markings is "pink">>[[Use your perception abilities.|2.06PerceptionUse]]<</if>>
There are only so many guns in rotation out here in the Outlands. All of them will be the more common ones because those are the only ones that end up making it out here. Probably some bounty hunter favorites since this place has no other form of military or law enforcement frequently seen. If you can get even the slightest peek, you'll be able to figure out the shot limit, when it needs to be recharged, and even the range and accuracy. <<if $markings is "purple">>You may even be able to take a shot. Your markings have made your skin more durable, like natural armor similar to vetix. It's not a replacement for a shield, but it lets you be a bit more reckless than normal.<</if>> You crouch walk to the closest corner, and peek your head out. You're given only a second or two extra due to the terran looking at both sides of the counter for you, their gun trained on Riq. Standard pistol. It's either the M9 Sideswiper or the Lingston Striker. Both have similar appearances with only a few key differences that you won't be able to distinguish between from here. Luckily, the two are nearly the same regarding the type of ammo they take and the magazine or charge number. Decent range. Unless their aim is trash, you'll be hit. <<if $markings is "purple">>Luckily, you know from experience that you can take a few scattered hits before the impact is too much and your body's natural armor suffers from the trauma. He won't get more than one.<<else>>You're not sure how many shots you have until he'll need to wait for the gun to cool down, but the gun is old enough to still have a magazine option, meaning it'll make an audible sound when it becomes overheated. If he's using a magazine, he's an idiot, and you'll hear him cuss when he goes empty.<</if>> <<if $markings is "purple">>You do a short countdown and once ready, surge forward. The first shot misses, the second shot hits you, and though it stings, you can still push through. The terran pauses, shocked when he sees the shot make impact but can't quite understand why you're still surging forward.<<else>>You peek out, acting as if you're about to take a shot, when he sees you and takes numerous ones at you, each missing. You'll have to rinse and repeat, being a bit dumber each time to ensure he continues to shoot without regard for his limit. Or, just scare the piss out of him. Peeking again, you actually take two shots, and the next spray does exactly as you wish. You hear a low curse and the steady beeping of the gun, alerting the user that he must wait for it to cool. You move to end this.<</if>> [[Tackle and punch them.|2.06TacklePunch][$attitude +=5]] [[Shoot him.|2.06Shoot][$attitude -=5; $deadgangmembers to true]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> Lunging, you wrap your arms around them and tackle them to the ground. They try to push you off but fail in their attempt, resembling more like a flailing child throwing a tantrum than someone with any idea of how to grapple. A few blows to the face seem to calm them down and, eventually, knock them out completely, but your hand comes back a bloody mess, and your knuckles are now numb. Regardless, this is over. <<include "2.06Violence2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You have a clear enough shot and waste no time to take it. Your shot, unlike theirs, is lethal, and they fall to the ground silently. Ending this conflict. <<include "2.06Violence2">>
You've never been a fan of doing this in front of others, especially when they knew your name. But in two days, you'll be out of here and will never see Riq again. In the past, enabling this stealth ability took a lot more focus. You never asked a shaph how they did it because you'd give away one of your most guarded secrets. You've learned everything independently, and this would be no different. Nowadays, it's second nature, and you can perfect the thought process by simply envisioning the cloak laying itself against your skin. It's not perfect, nowhere near it, but it'll aid you in reaching your goal. Not getting shot. Nearing the corner of the counter, you find the shooter, his eyes going back and forth along the counter, but his gun is now pointed at someone you suspect is Riq. It seems he made this easy on you. On deaf footsteps, you inch out just enough for an obvious shot and take it. It hits his shoulder, and just like that, he goes down. The easiest one, honestly. <<include "2.06Violence2">>
<<if $markings is "green" or $weapons >=5>>\ <<nobr>>\<<set $deadgangmembers to true>><</nobr>>\ Trust in your aim. It has hardly failed you in the past, and even though this isn't your go-to weapon, you've trained enough with all of them to have trust in hitting a target only a few meters away. If you fail a shot like this, the voice in your head will never shut up about how soft you've gotten since falling out of that plane. "One, two," you count to yourself, readjusting your grip on the gun. "Three." You stand up fully, take aim, and shoot all before the terran even realizes that you've got them in your sights. Your shot hits the area right above their heart, and judging by their still form, you surmise that it's lethal. <<else>>\ You'll have to hope your aim is true, especially when the target is only a few meters away. You've hit more challenging shots in the Dinami … but you've also never been one hundred percent accurate. Tsering was the shooter. You were comfortable around a gun but didn't rely on it. Readjusting your grip, you focus and tell yourself that this will be just like any other target practice, ignoring the voice that laughs and says that if you miss, it'll be even worse for your psyche. You stand up fully, take aim, and shoot. You see them go down before you duck, but you're not sure if they're dead or not until you hear them groan. So, you didn't kill them, but at least you hit your target. You'll just tell yourself that you weren't aiming for lethality. <</if>>\ <<include "2.06Violence2">>
Closing your eyes, you focus your breathing and extend your senses out to the immediate area. You've never really learned how to properly utilize this 'gift.' After what the Baron did, you found yourself with the odd ability of what you can best describe as enhanced perception. Little details that even the keenest eye may not notice were made obvious to you. You could place items and people within a certain radius, even without looking or knowing they were there beforehand. You aren't sure how far the ability can go and whether studying nurien abilities—who have something somewhat similar—may prove helpful. Riq's bar appears in your mind, your mind painting a picture of everything and everyone within. The man stands there, his gun now trained on Riq, though his eyes are on the counter, frantically moving back and forth as he waits for you to show yourself. At first, you plan to wait for his eyes to swipe to the other end, but realize that there is an even better position. The middle. Backing up slowly, you stop once in the middle and breathe, taking one last look at your mind's picture before springing up and taking the shot. It tears through his shoulder and with his last sound being a surprised grunt, he's down. The easiest one, honestly. <<include "2.06Violence2">>
Rolling your shoulders, you straighten and look around. Numerous ruined bottles, the wooden counter riddled with streaks of electricity, and bullet holes now add to the place's rustic charm. No one looks injured, though, so only the decor and product took a hit. "Are you okay?" Riq questions as she approaches, nudging the terran with her foot. "Peachy." "Thank you." <<if $deadgangmembers>>\ "Are you sure this is it? Or are they going to send more people?" "I don't know," she admits. "Only he's been bugging me. This is supposed to be neutral ground. I'd like to think these assholes thought themselves the new law, and that's it." "Here's to hoping. Take care of yourself, Riq." "You too, $name. Take care of our girl." You hum, preparing to leave when Riq calls for you. <<else>>\ "I didn't kill all of them. What's going to happen when they get back up?" "I don't know," she admits. "Hopefully just leave but I feel like that's a wish I won't see fulfilled." "You should drag them out somewhere. At least then they won't be waking up right in your face." "Maybe," Riq shrugs. "Or maybe I'll tie them up and beat them silly until they choose to leave me be." You snort. "Take care of yourself, Riq." "You too, $name. Take care of our girl." You hum, preparing to leave when Riq calls for you. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Lawful ++</span><</if>> You're not in the mood to get violent, especially when there are so many innocent people in the vicinity, and you're supposed to be out of here in two days. The last thing you need is something that will impede your ability to travel. But you're also not okay with what's happening, and the idea of leaving Riq to deal with this alone doesn't sit well either. "You want the bar," you start, "for personal reasons or because your boss told you?" "What's it to you?" he asks, taking another sip. "Interested party is all," you comment before nodding at Riq. "Riq's a friend. I'm just trying to watch out for those who watched out for me." "Well, learn to mind your business. A freak like you will already get some unwanted attention. Best not to open that mouth and add to it." Is it even possible to talk someone like this down? Rubbing your brow, you decide on the best course of action. <<if hasVisited("1.03.2")>>\ //There will be times when something in your inventory can be exchanged or used for something else. Sometimes there are other uses for such things. The choice of when to give/trade items is yours. In the end, if you hold on to things for too long, they will become unusable regardless.// <</if>>\ [[Use charm.|2.06Charm][$charmer +=1]] [[Use intimidation.|2.06Intimidate][$coercer +=1]] <<if hasVisited("1.03.2")>>[[Bribe with the datachip.|2.06Bribe][$broker +=1; $inv_bsdatachip to false; $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked to false]]<</if>>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Charmer ++</span><</if>> "What is this for?" you start, raising your hands in surrender as you focus on the leader. "Solars? Power?" "Don't act like you know me." "Trust me, I'm not. But out here, those are the only two things that really have any kind of weight behind them. Solars, you won't receive because if you take over this place, especially now, you're not going to get anyone but your own gang members. That will go nowhere fast, and soon, the only real bar in the Dreads will be nonexistent until someone becomes brave enough to open another. Which then leads to power being the motivator. Maybe your leader is impressed, but how long will that last when you have the entire population against you?" "You think you know so much, huh?" "I-" you bite your tongue, knowing how easily this can fall sideways if you say something wrong. "I know enough to say that no one will return if you take this place from Riq. You'll have the population pissed off at your little gang, and some will try to figure out how to get back at you. I mean, you took away their favorite drinking spot. People have killed for a lot less. They'll join the rival gang, swell those numbers, and drive yours to extinction. And then what? All that to get a bar that won't perform well under your leadership?" "Alright, smart ass," he starts, leaning forward after taking another drawn out gulp. You can see the flicker of worry in his eyes despite his words. "What do you suggest?" "Really?" "All ears." "Help out those in this area." He bursts out in laughter, but when you don't crack a smile, he seems to grow interested. <a data-passage="2.06Charm2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Why the fuck would I do that?" "For the same reason why you won't take this bar. Gang recruitment. You help the people in this area, and they will start seeing you as heroes. If one gang is going to win this war, it won't be hard for the average person to figure out which they'd rather see. The gang that helped them out and tried to fix the issue they started or the one that just destroyed their homes and lives. One of those has a pretty good chance of you being recognized. The other … well, you just gotta hope for the best. Quicker this war ends, the quicker you guys can go back to your scheduled asshole duties and everything falls back into a comfortable pattern. Only this time, you'll be on top." He pauses, taking a moment to think through everything you said. "I'll …" he clears his throat. "I'll discuss it with my boss." He motions for the other two to follow as he leaves. You're kind of shocked that worked, but a win is a win. "Thank you," Riq says once they're gone, already starting to clean up. "You won me another day and maybe even helped these people out." "Hope they see it that way," you sigh. His boss will either agree or kill him for thinking himself smarter. You tap the counter as you stand and say your goodbyes. <a data-passage="2.07"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++</span><</if>> "Look," you start, walking towards the bar at a leisurely pace that causes the raza's hackles to rise. "Calm down," you snort, grabbing one of the bottles and looking it over. Its primary purpose is just to give you something to do while you talk, and it can be used as an instrument, for example, in case the three gang members choose something other than sensibility. "You're in the middle of a gang war, and you act worse than a deer amongst trees." Taking a seat, you swill the liquid around and then take a tiny sip. It's atrocious; you should've grabbed one of the prettier bottles. "I get it. You're bored, and all three of you are so far down the pole that you feel getting this area would give you some kind of boost. Let me just tell you, it won't. If anything, you'll bring the war over here, and regular people will count you as their enemy." The raza is quiet for a moment before sighing and nodding. "Riveting speech. Really. I think I'm going to restructure my entire life on everything -" You wave your hands in the air, stopping him with an edge of irritation, steeling your tone. "Alright, so here's what's going to happen. You and the fucking goof troupe are going to leave out those set of doors and not even think about returning, or I'm going to kill you without breaking a sweat. And while you're at it, give me what you're drinking because this stuff sucks." He stares at you, a bit shocked. That blame can probably be rested on the shoulders of your last comment, but you don't care. You came here for something so simple, and these three idiots are making it complicated. "Who do you -" "I'm $name Moran. You are Gang Member #2943, and those two are probably even lower than that. In short, I don't care who you are, what gang you're a part of, or what you think you deserve. All of you look like dumbasses but prove me wrong. Walk out of those doors and form a better plan for another day." "Or not at all," Riq chimes in. <a data-passage="2.06Intimidation2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"I'm not scared of a terran," he sneers, and you motion for him to come closer. Your insides rage against what you're about to say, but you're running out of options that don't lead to a sufficient example of violence. "Do you want to see if these markings are //just// markings?" He glances at your face and gulps, stiffening as he seems to now take you seriously. You almost want to get violent. They look at you and see a defenseless terran. A terran that wields a gun much like a child with a toy. But as soon as you say something about your markings being more than just that, they seem to take you seriously. These atrocious dots that mark your skin. Given to you against your will and something you may forever be forced to bear as it mars every part of your life. You don't say much more as the raza continues to think over everything you said and hopefully considers just how calm you are. Snatching the bottle from him, you sniff it before turning to look at Riq. Leaving yourself open and vulnerable to an attack is beyond inane, but seeing that they are still standing there, you need one last push. "Riq! Do you not have anything that doesn't taste like liquid death?" "You have to mix them you, troglodyte." She stalks up to the bar and roughly moves the raza out of her way as she grabs a series of bottles and a cup. She makes you a drink, completely ignoring the alien as the others in the establishment begin to follow her lead, slowly going back to what they were doing as if nothing had happened. Paying no visual attention to him, you still follow his actions until he tells his friends to follow him and they make—what they think anyway—a silent exit. "Thank you," Riq says once they're gone, passing you the cup she just fixed. "So, was any of that true?" "Huh?" She points to her face. "That bit about your markings. I always wondered. I mean, it's the most blaring part about you. I thought they were just tattoos." [[Drink. Go.|2.06DrinkGo]] [[Just go.|2.06JustGo]] [[“Good luck with the place.”|2.06GoodLuck]]
Passing the cup back and forth between your hands, you swallow the contents in one gulp, focusing for a second on the taste before getting to your feet. "Thanks for the drink, Riq." <<include "2.07">>
You stand and get ready to leave. The job is done, and the bad guys are dealt with, so there's no reason for you to stay. <<include "2.07">>
"Good luck with the place, Riq," you say after finishing the drink and standing. <<include "2.07">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Broker ++</span><</if>> You snap your fingers, almost forgetting about the datachip that has landed itself in your possession. You fish it out, about to use it to your benefit when you realize that it will be pointless for you. You are to leave this place in two days, once you're gone, Riq will lose your protection. Thinking through your next actions, you flash the chip so that he can clearly see what you have before giving it to Riq. <<if $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked>>\ "You're probably wondering what that is and why you should care. Right?" He doesn't answer but you don't need him too. "That, is a data chip containing enough information to not only sink the Black Stars but to overtake and dismantle their entire operation here in the Dreads." There goes the glimmer. The thirst to learn more. There is something enticing about having that kind of information in your hands. Having the power to bring down those who think they stand on pedestals and end the day with them begging. <<else>>\ "You're probably wondering what that is and why you should care. Right?" He doesn't answer but you don't need him too. "That, is a data chip containing sensitive information pertaining to the Black Stars. Enough to bury them." Or at least that is what you hope it is. For all you know, it's filled with an ongoing game of terran chess or b've. But, he doesn't need to know that, neither does Riq. A bluff is a bluff. You can see the glimmer in his eyes. The thirst to learn more. There is something enticing about having that kind of information in your hands. Having the power to bring down those who think they stand on pedestals and end the day with them begging. <</if>>\ Growing up, watching the news and cartoon shows, you had believed that power comes from the strongest. The stronger you are, the more intimidating you are, the more power you can cultivate like a thriving garden. The trarkrans taught you the way the galaxy really worked. Strength only got you so far when the end result was all those muscles meeting the end of a gun or poisoned food. Those in charge were the smart ones. The ones who knew how to traverse the shark-infested waters they swam in and come out on the other side untouched. <a data-passage="2.06Bribe2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"What do you want?" he asks you but you shake your head, nodding to Riq who only then realizes what you just gave her. The grin she bears is one that you have worn many times as well. "Get out," she tells him and though he seems ready to say something, he does as she asks. He'll do whatever he can to now be on her good side. You watch as the trio leaves and turn to Riq. "Be careful. The more you do, the more they'll hate you and just bide their time to kill you." "I know how it works," she nods. "This is going some place only I know." She's smart, a fact that you should not be surprised by. Otherwise, she wouldn't have survived as long. With one last look at her and the cantina, you turn to go. <<include "2.07">>
"Wait," she calls out, "you know those idiots were here before. Once, they were bragging about a job they did that landed them a lot of physical solars. I got them drunk and found out where. I'll send you the coords and you can check it out if you're interested." You hum your thanks, pulling up your messages as you head out. The coordinates aren't too far; it's an unknown street, but still, it's not far. You can only hope that you won't be faced with any gang members or that the solars are still there. Preparing to call $hound to your side, your eyes sweep across all the makeshift camps and people struggling. [[You can help.|2.07Help][$attitude +=5]] [[Head to the coordinates.|2.07Coords][$attitude -=5; $solars +=80]] [[Stick to searching for Zihr.|2.08]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <<if $medical >=5>>\ You have enough experience with medical situations to help many of these people, probably more than the ones caring for them. Heading to someone moaning in pain, you kneel and look them over. A plasma round got them in the leg, and from the looks of it, it was haphazardly dressed and not even thoroughly cleaned. No wonder they're still in pain. You head inside for some clean water before heading back out and then to another who is suffering from a stab wound. Most of those you go to have stab wounds, most either not dressed whatsoever or very poorly done. One after another, you help those you can, stopping only once you feel like you assisted all you could. It may not be much, but it is at least something. With the day starting to end, you decide you should probably attempt to find Zihr. <<else>>\ "Is there anything you need help with?" you ask one of the people who seem to be in charge. "Oh, thanks," they start, nodding to a group huddled together. "Can you go ask Riq for some more blankets and water? I don't think she'll have a problem with it. But I'm also hoping that she has enough to spare." Some of the zeaches may not like it, but it's not like they'll have much choice when Riq is the one who gives the final verdict. You head back inside to ask for what was requested, and for an hour or so, that's what your day is filled with. Running small but meaningful errands to help those in the encampment get as comfortable as possible. With the day starting to end, you decide that you should probably attempt to find Zihr. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> Routing to the coordinates given to you, you walk down desolate and somber streets. The area looks more like a residential district, which makes sense why you've never been here. The market is on the other side and Riq's bar is as far as you usually go on this side of the Outlands. Entering the building in question, you're shocked to find that the Outlands hosts townhouses. Dilapidated, nearly about to crumble, no safety code to speak of, but townhouses nevertheless. This specific one looks as bad as it smells. Empty bottles, uneaten food containers, and other junk litter the floor and tabletops. You can't decide whether the floor is brown or dark gray. The fact that each time your foot falls, something crunches underneath makes you queasy. The chances of finding a bag of solars will be difficult if it's even still here. Leaving the living room, you head to one of two bedrooms, aiming for the room that has one bed within. Hopefully, the solo bed means that it's the leader's. If anyone had the solars, it would be him. You begin your search, turning over the room and noting that it now looks cleaner than before. Imagination isn't strong with these three, a search that should have taken forever—or not even have happened because no person with a functioning brain deals in physical solars—takes only a couple of minutes. Flipping the mattress, you hear items hitting each other from within. A bit of searching has you quickly finding the 'hidden' compartment and grabbing the bag of solars. It looks like at least sixty of the small spherical objects, not a bad haul when all you had to do was walk to it. You'll be unable to change them to their digital form until you get into the city. Now, you should probably go and search for Zihr. <a data-passage="2.08"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Glancing at your terminal, you find that Zihr still hasn't responded. Why are you shocked? You'll need to return to the apartment and let $hound sniff his things, and while you're at it, you'll have to figure out why you're going through all of this for Zihr, of all people. Returning, you immediately look around for an absent Checl. She wouldn't have just left the apartment without telling you, right? A few boxes and items are sitting on the kitchen counter; otherwise, everything else is gone, perhaps meaning that she's done. "Zihr, is that you?" you hear her call out from her room and head to it, pushing the door open as she glances up at you. "$name? Did you find him?" "No. He's not picking up, so I came to let $hound smell his stuff for tracking." "You don't think he's hurt, right?" "A possibility," you answer honestly. <<if hasVisited("2.02Kiss")>>"If he is, does that mean I don't get my kiss? She sends you a playful glare, shifting in her seat and allowing you to get a glimpse of the book resting on her lap. A copious amount of feathers stick out of the top, not all of them hers.<<else>>Zihr wouldn't call if he needed help and wouldn't pick up if he was okay. Anything could have happened, but you won't know until you find him. She shifts, and you notice a book full of feathers in her hands.<</if>> "What's that?" <a data-passage="2.09"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Oh. I don't know if there's a word for it in your language, but it's a collection of our feathers. When certain feathers fall, we put them in a book and write the journey about them. The ark's book is bigger, though. The entire ark records it in one book so that the future hatchlings can go back and read the journeys of those before them." "And each ark has this?" She nods. She was right. There's no single word you know of that would honestly describe that. Memorials, remembrances, or even historical events, but none of those feel right. "Did you know that some of those working in Riq's bar are the zeaches you helped save alongside me?" "I had a feeling." She hums. "One or two left, but most didn't know what to do, and Riq and the other zeaches were right there, ready to help us. I collected their feathers because, for this past year, they were my ark." She sends you an apologetic glance. "If only you had feathers, huh." [[“I'm not your ark.”|2.09Ark][$checl -=3; $emotion -=5]] [[“I understand, Checl.”|2.09Understand][$checl +=3; $emotion +=5]] [[“I should go find Zihr.”|2.09ShouldGo]] [[Say nothing.|2.09SayNothing]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Numb ++</span><</if>> "I'm not your ark," you tell her without a hint of feeling. "Simple as that." "I mean, you are-" "Not," you say, a bit more directly and glaring at her to end the conversation there. <<include "2.10">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Warm ++</span><</if>> "I understand what you mean, Checl," you start, wanting to add that despite your understanding, she shouldn't believe such a thing. She doesn't know you, and the things she knows are either accidentally or deliberately shown. It's wiser to keep it to yourself, though. "Guess I'll go find our golden boy," you tell her, turning and heading towards Zihr's room. <<include "2.10">>
"I should go find Zihr," you tell her, jabbing your thumb toward the living room. "Oh yea, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you." You nod, leaving and heading towards Zihr's room. <<include "2.10">>
You have little to say, so you leave her to her memories as you turn and head to Zihr's room. <<include "2.10">>
Within Zihr's room, you grab the first piece of clothing you see and hover it above $hound's slits. <<if $breed is "blood">>This would be ten times easier if Zihr had traces of his blood just lying around. But seeing that $hound isn't redirecting his attention, you assume there's no such thing.<</if>> "Track," you order, following the word up with a whistle that you feel you should work on. You're not a fan of how close the whistle is to 'leave it alone.' $hound raises his head, his crest nostrils expanding and restricting until he turns and heads out of the room. Hopefully, Zihr is close, or even better, on his way back. <a data-passage="2.10.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Of course, you aren't lucky in that regard, and the farther you go, the more you see the devastation left behind by the gang's numerous battles. It's not that you've never seen destruction. Such carnage feels as much as part of you as your own name. But it would be a lie for you to say that this type of atrocity is something you have seen time and time again. Your memories have been bathed in blood and then exposed to every cruel horror that only aliens could deliver and teach. You've seen families ripped apart, children scarred and beaten, you've witnessed estates razed to the ground, and your own skin opened and rippling with foreign bodies. Warehouses turned into cemeteries, streets mirroring those out of an urban warfare film. Only once have you ever seen an actual civilian area affected by such horror. Viscera lying on top of bloody puddles with disfigured limbs not too far off, nearly unrecognizable due to the debris that coats it. Two thoughts arise, and you're unsure which you fear more. The first is the understanding that what rests before you is very much your fault. Regardless of the prospects of when it would happen, you caused it now. And the second thought that hits you is the realization that this may just join every other landscape. How long until a sight like this is met with a numb understanding that in times of strife, this is what blooms. [[You cannot and will not let this become your norm.|2.11][$attitude +=5; $approach +=5]] [[Sometimes things happen, even when you try your best to avoid it.|2.11][$attitude -=5; $approach +=5]] [[Yes, you caused it. And you'll help others when possible. But you can't undo it with hopeful wishing.|2.11][$attitude +=5; $approach -=5]] [[This stuff happens. You're not about to cry about it.|2.11][$attitude -=5; $approach -=5]]
From beside you, $hound hisses, his tongue flicking through the air as he leads you down some alleyways and then to another ruined street. He approaches a figure sitting amongst the debris, their once tan and crimson face now caked in black soot. "Zihr," you greet, the raza failing to turn to face you. Only once you're directly beside him does he finally speak. "What are you doing out here?" "Checl is worried sick about you." You realize that parts of his arms are bleeding from scratches, matching bloody and grimy fingertips. Your eyes scour the remains of the building, noticing the unmistakable appearance of charred bones blossoming through the ruins like some cynical gothic flower. "I'm fine. Just searching and hoping and …" he trails off with each new edition. The pain evident in his tone as he grips what looks to be an intact brick. "For who?" "My mentor." [[“Then you found him.”|2.11FoundHim][$emotion -=5]] [[“Did he have back up places?”|2.11BackUpPlaces]] [[“I'm sorry.”|2.11Sorry][$emotion +=5]] [[“Your mentor?”|2.11Mentor]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Numb ++</span><</if>> "It seems like you found him." "No!" he hisses, the sudden shift in his attitude catching you by surprise as you almost stumble backward. "For once, can you not go for the worst-case scenario?" "Zihr, it's more like the only case scenario." "These bones could belong to anyone." "Truly? How likely is that?" "Very!" he screams, getting to his feet. His actions are enough to earn him a warning hiss from $hound who doesn't move from his position but is now paying greater attention as his tongue repeatedly flicks through the air. "You're the last person to say anything to me." <<include "2.12">>
"Did he have back up homes?" "No, but there were places I went to that I know he frequents." "And?" Zihr is quiet for a moment longer. "He wasn't there." "Zihr," you start, trying to gather the words. But he turns to you instantly, a harsh glare decorating his face. "Don't. Not you, of all people." <<include "2.12">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Warm ++</span><</if>> "Zihr," you start, trying to gather the words. But he turns to you instantly, a harsh glare decorating his face. "Don't you fucking dare say it. Not you, of all people." <<include "2.12">>
"Wait, your mentor? I thought you weren't from the Dreads." "I'm not, but when I decided to strike off and come here, I brought my mentor, too. He didn't care to stay there anyway; it wasn't like he was part of the gang that took me in." "And your mentor has no clue who you really are?" Zihr shakes his head languidly. "All he knows is that a raza basically shoved me into his arms along with my dagger and told him to keep me safe. He said the raza looked nothing like me, so he doubted we were family. For all I know, that raza is the one that kidnapped me." You begin to say no, it would be pointless to keep him alive if that was the case but you refrain. This entire situation is already uncomfortable enough. "Look, Zihr," you start, searching for words and failing. You've never been on this side, but always in Zihr's place trying desperately to make sense out of things that lie exposed. "No," he hisses, "of all people. You don't have a right to say anything more." <<include "2.12">>
"Spare me the morality lesson." "Spare me another moment of cleaning up your fucking mess then, $name. It's the same old shit with you. You fuck something up, and I gotta clean up behind it. Only this time, I can't clean it up, and it … it might've …" He starts to choke, his eyes landing back on the pile of rubble as he shakes his head. "No. Fuck that. He's not dead. I heard that Black Star always take prisoners to sell as slaves or to use them as …" He doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to. You see the bodies just as clearly as anyone else. The thought is sickening. "Would that not be a fate worse than death?" <<if $emotion >=50>>Your tone is soft, allowing your words to come out more as a whisper than a callous question.<<else>>Your tone is harsh. All you needed to do was add a snort at the end to push it over the edge.<</if>> <a data-passage="2.13"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It means he's alive!" he begs more than states. "He's alive, and I can save him. I just … I just need to find him." You know this feeling well, the task of despondently pulling fiction from fact and dressing it up in macabre tones while plastering a fake smile on your face. It only lasts for so long and that is more to do with truth than fact. It does not like to be ignored. He wipes at tears that haven't quite fallen. Inhaling heavily, he shakes his head. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to feel. He was the only reason I was thinking about staying. I didn't want him to get lonely and …" His frown grows heavier as he stares at his surroundings. "And the universe seemed to want to help me with that decision." <<if $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked>>You stuff your hands into your pocket, brushing across the datachip that still resides there, still hoping to find a purpose. You pause. The datachip that contains information on Black Star logistics, including base locations.<</if>> [[“It has a way of doing that.”|2.13WayDoingThat][$mentor to "dead"]] [[“What do you need?”|2.13WhatNeed][$mentor to "dead"]] [[Sit down beside him.|2.13SitDown][$mentor to "dead"]] <<if $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked>>\ [[“I may know where he is.”|2.13MentorLocation]] <</if>>\ [[Leave him alone.|2.13LeaveAlone][$mentor to "dead"]]
"Yea," you sigh tiredly, "the universe has a way of doing that." "I never had someone die. People in the gang did all the time, sure. But I didn't know them. I didn't care about them. Sometimes, I was even secretly happy about it because they were horrible. Death is … Death was this force that was always around me but never really affected me." <<include "2.14Stay">>
"What do you need?" you ask after a moment of silence. He snorts. "For you to fuck off." No surprise there. "Alright," you whisper, turning to go when Zihr grabs your hand, shocking you as you turn to face him. "I … I need you to tell me it's not real." He releases your hand as if scared he'd burn you or dirty you up. "Tell me that he's alive, or explain this pain away." Carefully, you take a seat beside him. "What does it feel like?" "Unreal," he snorts. "I never had someone die. People in the gang did all the time, sure. But I didn't know them. I didn't care about them. Sometimes, I was even secretly happy about it because they were horrible. Death is … Death was this force that was always around me but never really affected me." <<include "2.14Stay">>
Quietly and slowly, you take a seat beside Zihr. Is this what you would have wanted someone to do when you found out that you were the last Moran alive? One after another. Death tumbling by like leaves during autumn. You may never truly get an answer, it was such a long time ago. "I never had someone die. People in the gang did all the time, sure. But I didn't know them. I didn't care about them. Sometimes, I was even secretly happy about it because they were horrible. Death is … Death was this force that was always around me but never really affected me." <<include "2.14Stay">>
"I … I may know where he is." "Your humor is sickening." "<<if $humor >=50>>That would be a pretty sadistic joke, huh? But no, I'm serious."<<else>>It's not a joke."<</if>> You pull the chip out of your pocket to show him. "This is a Black Star datachip. When I checked it the other day, I found that it contained information regarding their shipments, members, deals, and the one thing you'll actually care about, their base locations." "$name," Zihr whispers, his eyes clenched closed. "Please tell me …" He seems to shrink away from his own statement before getting to his feet, pulling free his gun. "Let's go." "Whoa. Let's calm down for a moment. We need a location and a plan." He snorts, more so sneers as he regards you. "When do you ever do anything with a plan?" "Just because you don't know about it doesn't mean I don't make plans. We have no idea which location your mentor may be held at, if he even-" Zihr raises a warning finger, keeping you from completing your sentence. "Just. Let's think." "You can think," he grumbles, outstretching his hand. "I'm going to go find my mentor. Just give me the chip." [[Go with him.|2.13ZihrMentor][$zihrLo +=1; $mentor to "alive"]] [[Give him the datachip.|2.13ZihrChip][$inv_bsdatachip_unlocked to false; $mentor to "unknown"]] [[Refuse.|2.13MentorRefuse][$inv_bsdatachip_unlocked to false; $inv_bsdatachip_unused to true; $zihrLo -=1; $mentor to "dead"]]
"Ah," you answer plainly, clicking your tongue as you regard him. "Sure." You toss the chip to him, cocking your head to the side as he stares at it. "I'm curious. How are you going to decode it? And then after that, how are you going to parse through the data to figure out which base is the one your mentor may be held at? Planning to go from one to the next, hoping that the entire time you do that, the Black Stars don't realize what's going on and warn ahead?" "I'll—" You snatch the chip back out of his open palm. "Good news is that I'm coming, so you don't have to worry about half of those things. But out of the two of us, I'm the one with experience infiltrating places, so I'll be calling the shots." "Fine," he grumbles. With the decision made, you lead him to the shops, knowing that Prourc has an external terminal that you can use. Inserting the chip, you run the program <<if $tech <10>>that Lahka sent you<<else>> to open the files<</if>> and navigate your way to the appropriate folders. The bases are spread out all through the Dreads, far enough away to make it impossible to visit each and every one of them, with time playing a vital factor. You remove the base that you had ransacked, and then two others located in areas that you know. It leaves nine more, each of them either big enough to hold a large number of people or in an area where the influx would go hugely unnoticed. <a data-passage="2.15ZM1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You don't truly care about Zihr's mentor, and as far as you're concerned, you did your part. Thinking freely, the chances of Zihr finding anything is close to—if not exactly—zero. You gladly plop the chip into his hand, regarding him for a moment. You're quite unsure whether he'll be able to find a way to actually decode the chip like you did. Zihr wasn't savvy with technology, and this wasn't some quick hack. Not to mention how hard it''ll be for him to properly locate the base without rousing suspicion or being detected. He gets two chances before alarms are sounded and the gang starts looking for him. But again, it's none of your buisness. You start to head away, shouting over your shoulder. "Good luck." There is no response. <<include "2.15">>
"No," you tell him, placing the chip back into your pocket. "What do you need it for." You shrug. "Who knows." "$name," he says carefully. "Don't be an asshole. Just give me the datachip. We'll be out of here in a day; there's nothing you can do with it. I can save people with it." "Thinking yourself a hero, again?" "Don't make me—" "Don't make you what?" you challenge. "Is this the day you choose to fight me? Almost a year of us knowing one another and you finally decide this is it?" He stares at you for a minute too long. Enough time passing for you to think that he may actually attempt something. His body language says he will, tense and sure. You stiffen, readying yourself to be tackled or to pivot out the way of an incoming punch. But in the end, he just turns and walks away. An action that you soon mirror, though in the opposite direction. <a data-passage="2.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You don't know what to do in this moment. There's nothing you can think of to say, and judging from your relationship, you're probably not even the best person to console him. Somewhere deep inside you is the memory of losing your family members one by one. Watching them walk out that ornate wooden door that was supposed to represent safety, home, and love. Or watching them get shot by aliens. That memory houses every feeling you felt, every fear, and sob you wept. In that memory, all is encased, and in that memory, that's where they'll stay. Buried deep to serve no other purpose but to help create the person you are now. That is what Zihr will soon go through as well. Turning to go, you hear Zihr chuckle and angle only your head to see him glaring at you. <a data-passage="2.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yea," you nod. "You feel invincible until the world finally decides to pop in and tell you you're not." "Yea. Indirectly too. He … he didn't deserve this. And I … I don't even know how he died and if it was fast or-" "Don't," you command, snapping for extra emphasis. "Don't do that. You're going to fall into a cycle where your mind continuously thinks of different ways he could've died and what you could've done until it starts to eat at you. And in the end, when you're feeling bad for yourself and behaving more like a ghost than a person, what does it change? They're gone. You're here." "The last time we talked was so normal. I was telling him that we would be free of this place and wanted to know what he wanted to do. No part of me thought it would be the last time I saw him." Suddenly, he winds back his arm and throws the brick as hard and far as possible. His gaze turns to you, burning and furious. <a data-passage="2.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We're leaving the Outlands to face this," he sweeps his hand out. "We're running away." "We're making a tactical exit." "For once, just be honest. We're running away. We could help them. We could-" "Could what? There are two of us against hundreds of psyched-out gang members who aren't even dying for a cause; they're just doing it because someone stronger said so. We'll get ourselves killed before we even make a dent." "You can take out ten folks without breaking a sweat. I've seen you strategize. Why are you suddenly so afraid?" [[“Not my fight.”|2.14NotMyFight][$zihr -=3]] [[“Why are you so suicidal?”|2.14Suicidal][$zihr -=5]] [[“Make me the scapegoat, that's fine.”|2.14Scapegoat][$zihr +=5]] [[“My condolences for your lost.”|2.14Condolences]]
"This is not my fight!" you yell. "Stay here and play hero. I don't give a damn. But I have personal shit of my own out there. And I be damned if I die in this off-the-grid hole because a group of trigger-happy children learned which way the gun is meant to face." He nods as if he already knew your reasoning but wanted to hear you say it. The look on his face sombers up, and he turns away. Good, because you have nothing left to say. <<include "2.15">>
"And why are you so suicidal all of a sudden? You're not stupid, Zihr. There's no way you believe what you just said. I get it. That moral compass of yours forces you to say things you know won't happen, that you're honor bound to say it for the sake of someone having to remind everyone. But then that should be it. You and I both know that if we walked into any fight, we'd get slaughtered." "You're -" "Not immortal," you growl. "If you want to go risk your life for a place that will just descend right back into chaos a whole day after your noble sacrifice, fine. But stop adding me to your plans." Nothing left to say, you go. You don't look back. You don't even focus enough to hear if he has more to say. <<include "2.15">>
You start to respond but can't help but laugh, shaking your head as you inhale and exhale calmly. "Fine. Go ahead and make me the scapegoat. Blame every little thing going on, on me. It's okay, I can take it. I'll sleep like a baby while bullets whiz past my window. If that's what makes you feel better in the end, whatever. Because I know for a fact that in one more day, you'll be right there with me and Checl, standing in front of Prourc, ready to leave this place behind. If you cared, you'd stay. No one's stopping you. You're the coward. Hopefully, one day, you can admit it to yourself." Nothing left to say, you go. You don't look back. You don't even focus enough to hear if he has more to say. <<include "2.15">>
You stare at him for a while, studying his face and just how serious he seems to take himself. You can't figure out if he genuinely thought himself invincible, a force to be reckoned with, or if he felt like giving his life to some greater cause. Either way, you aren't about to entertain him further. Nodding to the bones, you say, "my condolences for your loss." And with that uttered, you turn and walk away. You don't look back. You don't even focus enough to hear if he has more to say. <<include "2.15">>
There's only one thing you're genuinely concerned about: making it home before the sun resides for the night, giving way to the true hunters of the Outlands. That night, between the worried squawks originating from Checl and the howls of the Nightbeasts, you don't hear Zihr return. [[And you hardly get a wink of sleep.|2.16]] [[And you sleep easily.|2.16]] [[You sleep, but nightmares plague you.|2.16]]
"What's taking so long?" Zihr questions, leaning in to see your screen. "If you keep talking, it'll take even longer." He grumbles, but does as you ask as you continue looking at the locations or messing with $hound. You need to figure out which one is correct. You have one guess at this. "Prourc," you start, gaining the zeach's attention. "How much do you know about other vendor shipments?" "Depends on which vendor you want information for." "Food vendors. Do you know anyone who sends out bulk shipments?" Prourc remains silent as he contemplates your question, finally squawking in what you hope is a revelation. Qreth and Shrnval are the first to come to mind." "Expensive?" "Moderately. They're not the cheapest." You shake your head. "Any that are either cheap or more so, send their scrap and leftovers off?" "How is this helping us?" Zihr finally questions, but you ignore him. He'd still be at square one if he were doing this on his own. "The only one that fits that is the butcher. Normally, they send any unwanted and unsold parts out in bulk." "Where?" "Someone to the far south. Always believed it to be a slaughterhouse due to the fact that he'd sometimes send the rancid bits too." Looking back at the map, there's one base that sits far south, out of the way, but not so much that it would have been an obvious contender. You turn to Zihr. "Alright, let's go." <a data-passage="2.15ZM2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The base resembles every large, abandoned-looking building in the Outlands. Made out of spare or stolen parts, in horrendous disrepair, and looking like it may just come toppling down if someone steps on the wrong panel. What gives it away is the number of people walking around, all guards with guns and nothing better to do. <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "This is stupid," you mumble from your spot. "This is the literal definition of turning up to a gun fight with knives." Zihr spares me a confused look, his brow furrowed. "Well, yes. That's because we have knives, and they have guns." You're about to remark that in your culture, it's a saying, but choose to remain silent, finding no reason to speak more about it. Not when you have bigger issues to deal with. "If we can figure out the layout of the base. We can get in and out, no problem. Does that diagram of yours show it?" <<else>>\ "How do we go about this?" Zihr asks from beside you, his gun already in his hands, and you surmise a fresh magazine loaded. "Planning to storm the place?" "If that means charging in and killing everyone in my way, yes." "We don't have enough firepower," you snort, sighing as you relax, scratching your chin as you try to think up a plan. "Fine. Did that diagram of yours have blueprints of the place?" <</if>>\ "No. It only had the coordinates. We'll have to figure it out the hard way." Sitting back on your heels, <<if $idle is "na">>you close your eyes and force yourself to focus on the facts laid out before you.<<else>>you dig your hand into your pocket, searching for <<if $idle is "cig">>a cigarette<<elseif $idle is "candy">>a piece of candy<<elseif $idle is "pick">>a toothpick<</if>>, hoping you kept one. Upon finding it, you <<if $idle is "candy">>plop it into your mouth and focus on the taste.<<elseif $idle is "cig">>stick it in your mouth, lighting it, then taking a long, ruminative puff.<<else>>placing it in your mouth. You shift it around, playing and biting on it for a while.<</if>> A wave of calmness overtakes you, a moment of clarity that gives way to a higher degree of concentration.<</if>> You gaze shifts to $hound who is shifting uncomfortably, probably bored of just sitting here, an attitude that you can't wholly disagree with. <<if $markings is "pink">>Maintaining focus, you stare at the building, hoping to use your abilities to see those within. But, you find that the building is too far to get a read, so you abandon the task.<</if>> The issue with these buildings is that they can have sub-levels. The Outlands have existed for a long time; those before have built tunnels, and those after have either expanded on them or reinforced them, turning their singular uses into many. To find them, you'll have to get inside, guesswork won't help. You need a plan to get in. [[Blend in.|2.15BlendIn]] [[Sneak inside.|2.15SneakInside]] [[Hear out Zihr's plan.|2.15ZihrPlan]]
"Got any ideas?" "The only one I can think of is sneaking in. That'll at least make it to where we don't end up in a fire fight." "Agreed." You move to look past your cover, focusing on finding the best way to sneak inside. "$name," Zihr whispers, nudging you and then gesturing to an area near the back of the compound that looks like it would hold a back door. "That's hoping there aren't more guards." "This place is in the middle of nowhere, and Outlanders are more than happy to turn a blind eye as long as it means they're not in any danger," Zihr points out. "The only folks dumb enough to ever try and storm this place are the Howlers ... and I guess us. Plus, there's a war; I'm sure they have the bulk of their forces focused elsewhere." He has a point. This place is probably working on a skeletal crew, enough to make sure no one goes anywhere but not much else. "Then let's go." Much to $hound's chagrin, you motion for him to stay put as the two of you abandon your cover. You place a wide berth between you and the building before moving back in, keeping low and looking for any kind of door. You spot one, two guards a ways off as they smoke and converse, paying little—if any—attention to their surroundings. Sneaking past them and inside is simple, even easier than coming up and deciding on a plan. The facility itself is exactly what you expected: run-down, with just as many holes as the apartment. There are fewer gang members here; in fact, it's damn near empty. Zihr slowly closes the door behind you before coming to your side, his brow furrowed as he seems to come to the same conclusion as you. "Where is everyone?" <a data-passage="2.15Bingo"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Let's try sneaking in," you tell Zihr. "If we can get past the guards, then that should be enough. Once inside, we can act like we belong there." "And if we get caught?" <<if hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>\ "Guess we'd better hope we're faster than a gun, right?" "Says the terran that can heal. Not all of us have superpowers." "Kinda sucks to be you then. You might want to run faster than me." Zihr is not as amused as you are, but you pay little more attention to it, focused on finding the best way to sneak inside. <<else>>\ "Guess they'll be a shoot-out. You know, unless you're too worried about all the innocent lives that may be lost." "No one here is innocent besides the prisoners," he growls. You almost want to roll your eyes, but say nothing as the two of you both plot out the best way to sneak inside. <</if>>\ "$name," Zihr whispers, nudging you and then gesturing to an area near the back of the compound that looks like it would hold a back door. "That's hoping there aren't more guards." "This place is in the middle of nowhere, and Outlanders are more than happy to turn a blind eye as long as it means they're not in any danger," Zihr points out. "The only folks dumb enough to ever try and storm this place are the Howlers ... and I guess us. Plus, there's a war; I'm sure they have the bulk of their forces focused elsewhere." He has a point. This place is probably working on a skeletal crew, enough to make sure no one goes anywhere but not much else. "Then let's go." Much to $hound's chagrin, you motion for him to stay put as the two of you abandon your cover. You place a wide berth between you and the building before moving back in, keeping low and looking for any kind of door. You spot one, two guards a ways off as they smoke and converse, paying little—if any—attention to their surroundings. Sneaking past them and inside is simple, even easier than coming up and deciding on a plan. The facility itself is exactly what you expected: run-down, with just as many holes as the apartment. There are fewer gang members here; in fact, it's damn near empty. Zihr slowly closes the door behind you before coming to your side, his brow furrowed as he seems to come to the same conclusion as you. "Where is everyone?" <a data-passage="2.15Bingo"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We can attempt to blend in. Make it seem like we're one of them." "What?" he questions, brow raised while you shrug. The more you linger on the plan, the more you end up liking it. "I doubt they know every single face in their organization. You're a raza so you'll blend in easily enough. Plus, you were raised in a gang; I'm sure you can copy their mannerisms without problem." He seems to want to utter a remark to your latter statement, but pushes it down. "And what about you? You couldn't blend in if you tried." "True. But I'm also the one who stole their precious cache, robbed what I believe to be their main base, and started this whole war in the first place." "So you want me to act like I caught you and I'm just bringing you in for interrogation?" "You still sound so skeptical." "The plan won't work," he huffs. "You look like regular Outland trash, not Outland trash that was captured and beaten for all your transgressions." <<if $zihrRoPo >=1>>\ "Seeing this as a chance to rough me up a little, Zihr?" "If we want to pull this off, I think that's needed." You hum, smirking and doing your best not to laugh. "You almost sound like you're excited to put your hands on me." "I wouldn't describe it as excited, as much as there's a need." Oh, that one almost has you. You let out a short snort as Zihr glances at you in bewilderment. <<if $zihrRo >=50>>\ "There's gotta be a little bit of excitement then, dontcha think?" you question, placing a hand on Zihr's chest. He glances from it to you, his face scrunching up even more in confusion. "$name, what are you talking about?" He seems to answer his question before you even get a chance. "Is this another one of your strange terran innuendos?" "Something like that," you hum, ending the teasing there. You need to focus on the task at hand. <<else>>\ "Please don't, I'm fragile." He frowns as he stares at you, scowling a moment after. "Are you joking?" "Only a little," you chuckle, focusing back on the task at hand. <</if>>\ <<else>>\ "That " <</if>>\ <a data-passage="2.15BlendIn1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"We'll just say that the boss didn't want anyone touching me because he has specific plans for me or something. Can you make that work?" "Of course," he grumbles. You glance at your clothes and do your best to make it look like the two of you had been in a tussle. You take some of the dirt and place it on your clothes, face, and <<if $length is "bald">>scalp<<else>>hair<</if>>. "How do I look?" "Like Outlands trash," he snorts, enjoying himself, you notice. "Hand me your weapons just in case they check you." You try to keep your eye from twitching, but do as he says, handing both your gun and knife over. It'll be fine, you'll get them back once you're inside. Much to $hound's chagrin, you motion for him to stay put as the two of you abandon your cover and head down the road. Once there, Zihr grabs you harshly, shoving you in front of him but keeping his hold tight as he leads you towards the guards. "Shit," he grumbles, "this better work." He's not wrong. You're close enough now to where basic assault rifles will make short work of you. A few more minutes and you'll be staring into the barrels of shotguns. <a data-passage="2.15BlendIn2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Did Jarek get here yet?" Zihr questions, shifting his hold to your bicep as he shows you off to the guards that loom. You keep your face tired and disgusted, reminded once again of why you hate acting. "Jarek never comes here," one of them states, their scowl shooting from you to Zihr. "Who the fuck are you? And how'd you catch that one?" You're actually surprised they know who you are. You ponder whether you'll find a bulletin board with a blown-up wanted poster of yourself. "None of your business since you're obviously just a grunt. Just tell Jarek when he shows up that the terran he requested is waiting for him in the interrogation room." Zihr confidently shoves past them, walking you deeper into the yard. When you're halfway through, and no one shoots, you relax, only to remember that there's still an act that you have to keep up. You put up a half-hearted struggle as you get past the doors and into the facility. The facility itself is exactly what you expected: run-down, with just as many holes as the apartment. There are fewer gang members here; in fact, it's damn near empty. Zihr releases you, his brow furrowed as he seems to come to the same conclusion as you. "Where is everyone?" [[“Bingo?”|2.15Bingo]] [[“How did you know Jarek?”|2.15Jarek]] [[“Was a bit cocky with that guard.”|2.15CockyGuard]]
"I don't know, bingo?" "What?" Zihr asks, and you simply wave him off, not wishing to waste five minutes on explaining something as mundane as bingo. Zihr nods to the left hall. "We should head that way." "Been inside one of these facilities before?" "No. I just have a feeling." It was a 50/50 chance anyway; might as well go with his hunch and see where it leads. <<include "2.15Inside">>
"How did you know about Jarek?" "Unlike you, I learn about my enemies." "I learn about my enemies." "How long did it take for you to even learn the name of the gangs in the Outlands?" You clap, causing him to jump from the sudden action as you motion to the hallways. "Do you want to find your mentor or stand here continuing this back and forth?" He snorts, but heads down the left hallway, and you follow close behind. <<include "2.15Inside">>
"You were a bit cocky with that guard, don't you think?" "That's how they expect to be talked to. If I talked to them like I was an equal, we would've been found out." "Learn that from observation or from your past life." "Both," he grunts, nodding to the hallway leading to the left. "Let's go that way." "Been inside one of these facilities before?" "No. I just have a feeling." It was a 50/50 chance anyway; he might as well work off his hunch and see where it leads. <<include "2.15Inside">>
The number of guards doesn't improve the deeper you get. You see one or two, but they pay you little mind, probably assuming that you're meant to be here; otherwise, how did you get in in the first place? What does increase is the number of prisoners transporting prisoners. You watch as one dirty and disheveled captive leads others, and not in a way that tells you that they're simply the strong watching out for the weak, or a burden has been placed upon their shoulders. They manhandle them, pushing and threatening them, one even pushes another to the ground and kicks them as they shout a slew of obscenities. "Rats," Zihr mumbles, and you turn to face him. He nods at the scene you had just been viewing. "We called them rats. In my old gang, when they would take prisoners, some would try and do everything they could to curry favor, even betray those in the same position." "Unpaid prison guards?" "Essentially. They do the gang's work for them, and in return, they aren't treated like shit. Or at least not as bad as the other prisoners." "Wish I could say I'm surprised." <a data-passage="2.15Inside2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Zihr hums, leaving your side as he approaches one, grabbing them roughly. "Stain, do you know the location of a thing named Zyrith?" "Yes, yes," the terran states, bowing their head as they rattle off some directions that make little sense to you due to their jumbled speech. Rejoining your side, Zihr motions for you to follow him, leading you down one hall after the other until he stops at a moldy door. You back away, taking a moment to not only bolster yourself from the smell but to push away the memories that charge against walls meant to protect you. Zihr pushes open the door, grunting a bit as it slowly slides open, letting out the full extent of the putrid smell. The conditions inside are similar to those you experienced under the trarkran's, albeit yours were cleaner, if only due to the facilities. At this point, the Black Stars seemed to just be collecting bodies. If you were healthy enough to sell, that was your fate. The rest were either chosen to be walking bombs or some other fate. Your mind flees back to the bhela and raza in the cells, and ... the one alien eating another. You shoo the thought away, focusing on Zihr, whose walking through the minefield of body waste like this was a typical activity for him. Most of those within flinch away, hiding their face or openly begging for mercy. You let out a shrill whistle, gaining the attention of everyone while Zihr continues searching. "You're free. Get out of here, be careful." So many of them just stare at you; a few shift but do nothing more as they wait for another to act. [[“Do I look like Black Star?”|2.15IAintOneOfEm]] [[“Help whoever you can.”|2.15HelpOthers][$attitude +=2]] [[“Your choice.”|2.15YourChoice]] [[“Then stay here.”|2.15StayHere][$attitude -=2]]
"Come on," you snort, trying to provide some semblance of humor to the situation. "Do I look like I'm with Black Star?" The majority remain quiet, but you can see a few glance at one another, seeming to agree with the assessment that you're not. Two stand up and creep towards you. Once they make it past you without any fight, the rest of them rise and make a mad dash for the exit. You watch them go, glancing back into a mostly empty room. All that remains are those injured and left behind, dead, and Zihr with an older appearing raza. <<include "2.15Inside3">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Go, and along the way help whoever else you find." That seems to get enough of their attention as one by one, they rise and slowly creep towards the door. You move, showing that you're not the threat they fear you may be. Once a few get past the doors, the others begin to rush, spilling out in a mass exodus. You watch them go, glancing back into a mostly empty room. All that remains are those injured and left behind, dead, and Zihr with an older appearing raza. <<include "2.15Inside3">>
"It's your choice," you tell them with a shrug. "But you may want to make that choice before your jailers come by." Two stand up and creep towards you. Once they make it past you without any fight, the rest of them rise and make a mad dash for the exit. You watch them go, glancing back into a mostly empty room. All that remains are those injured and left behind, dead, and Zihr with an older appearing raza. <<include "2.15Inside3">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You shrug, unable to care about their well-being when they themselves seemed so nonchalant about it. "Or stay here. I don't really care." Shifting the bulk of your attention to Zihr and who you assume to be his mentor, you notice a few inching towards the entrance, their gaze constantly swiveling back to you every other step. When they finally make it to the threshold and see that you do nothing to stop them, they dart. That's all it takes for the rest of them to follow suit and leave a mostly empty room behind. All that remains are those injured and left behind, dead, and Zihr with an older appearing raza. <<include "2.15Inside3">>
The two men stand with their arms wrapped around one another. Zihr's eyes filled with tears as he tightens his grip. You can just barely hear his mentor—or Zyrith if you recall the name Zihr said from earlier—say, "You came for me, my boy." "Of course. I'm just happy I was on time. How did they capture you?" "I was helping others get off the street when they began to send their …" He looks ready to vomit. "… bombers. The building we were in was hit, but a few others and I managed to get most of those out, only for us to be rounded up." Zihr starts, but you interrupt him by clearing your throat. "We should go while the crowd is still nearby," you point out, gaining both of their attention. "It's easier to disappear in a frantic crowd." Zihr nods, motioning for his mentor to lean on him. You wouldn't be surprised if he just opted to carry the man. The three of you successfully escape, finding those who have escaped fighting and overpowering the guards. A few dead bodies lay scattered around, but you push on, grabbing $hound, and putting space between you and the building. "$name," Zihr calls out, and you stop short, turning to face him. "I'm going to take him somewhere safe and speak to Prourc about some things." He rolls his eyes, but you notice a smile gracing his lips as he nods his head. "Thank you for helping me." [[“Let's not make a habit of it.”|2.15NoHabitsMade]] [[“No problem.”|2.15NoProblem]] [[“Wow, a thank you.”|2.15AThankYou]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Do I get a kiss for my services?”|2.15ServiceKiss][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Do I get a kiss for my services?”|2.15ServiceKiss][$zihrRo -=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“It was my pleasure.”|2.15MyPleasure][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“It was my pleasure.”|2.15MyPleasure][$zihrRo +=5; $zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[Nod.|2.15Nod]]
"Yea, well let's not make a habit of it, okay? Our relationship won't survive it." He snorts, rolling his eyes as he nods. "Deal." You watch as the two men turn down the road and head opposite of you. "Let's head back," you say to $hound, your eyes still watching them as they get farther and farther. "Before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter and you can just head straight to sleep. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"No problem, Zihr." He seems not to know how to react to that, and so, leaves it. Giving you one last nod, the duo heads down a road that is opposite the direction you are soon to be headed. You watch them go for a while before turning to an impatient $hound. "Let's head back," you tell him, your eyes still watching the duo as they get farther and farther. "Before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter, and you can just head straight to sleep. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Wow, did I just receive a thank you from //the// Zihr Highstrider? Imagine my shock to learn that such a phrase is even in your dictionary." "I take it back. Go fuck yourself." "That sounds more like the Zihr I know," you snort, and Zihr shocks you even further by actually smiling. It's a sight you rarely see much of anymore, if at all, now that you think about it. You can probably count on one hand all the times that you can remember Zihr actually genuinely smiled, not smirked, smiled. Seeing that your business is now concluded, Zihr heads down a road that is opposite of the direction you are soon to be headed. You watch them go for a while before turning to an impatient $hound. "Let's head back," you tell him, your eyes still watching the duo as they get farther and farther. "Before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter and you can just head straight to sleep. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"So," you smirk, leaning on $hound's head, surprisingly he stays put, though you can already feel his impatience, ready to pounce on you for the action. "Do I get a kiss for my service?" "Fuck off," Zihr growls, but the tip of his ears betray just how embarassed he now is. He tightens his grip on his mentor as he stalks away. You watch for a while, reminded of your current positioning thanks to $hound who shakes his head, and subsequently, you. You playfully shove him before walking away. "Let's head back before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter and you can just head straight to sleep. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"It was my pleasure, Zihr. I'm always here to help." Zihr's brow cocks upwards, and you can see the question that he wishes to vocalize but never will. You suppose that's fair, especially when the two of you have such a tumultuous relationship. Not to mention that he's probably trying to figure out just how sincere you are. The more you think about it, the happier you become when you find he doesn't respond, since the matter of how much you help versus hinder will surely arise. The thought causes you to zone out, and by the time you come back to the now, you find that Zihr and Zyrith have disappeared down the opposite road. You turn your attention to $hound. "Let's head back before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter, and you can just head straight to sleep. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You stare at him for a moment before nodding. You helped, that's it. You aren't exactly looking for a medal for it. He tightens his grip on Zyrith as he stumbles away. You watch for a while before turning to $hound. "Let's head back before Checl decides to scream at us." If you're lucky, she won't hear you enter and you can just head straight to sleep, you feel tired enough. <a data-passage="2.16"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> The next day, you wake to the sound of Checl chuckling, her voice soft and nowhere near as anxious as it was yesterday, and a second one can also be heard. Zihr. You sit on the edge of your cot, listening to their muffled voices as they laugh and tell what you perceive to be stories. You hear Zihr mention a lesson his mentor taught him, and Checl pipes up to agree and share a similar situation. Back and forth they go, and no matter how much a part of you says you don't care, you find that you do. Does anyone truly crave isolation, or are they forced into a corner so often that it's all they really know and trust? "Ugh," you growl, going to the window and sliding it up so you can escape. "Now I'm sitting here feeling bad for myself. Come on $hound, let's do an errand or two." <a data-passage="2.17"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Heading into what you call the underground market, you notice that most of the stalls have cleared out or been replaced by others. Even some of the sellers who have been here since you arrived can no longer be seen. It's not hard to figure out where they may be or why they are no longer here, but you also do not wish to think too hard about it. Unlike the main market area, it exists in a different location and sells products that are significantly more niche. You also suspect that the price to set up here is considerably cheaper than the main one, making it accessible to almost anyone who wants to dispose of their trash. Still, it has its uses. [[Check out the mod and abacus shop.|2.17ModAbacusShop]] [[Go by the general shop.|2.17GeneralShop]]
You head to the cart in question, curious to see if any of the prices have lowered or if you can persuade Lundar to give them to you for free. The latter part comes with heavy doubt, but you've seen odder things. "If it isn't my favorite shaph," you greet, rapping your knuckles on the counter. "If it isn't my least favorite terran," they greet back, shaking their head as they look you up and down. "Looks like you've been keeping out of trouble. Surprisingly." "I do actually make an attempt sometimes." They roll their eyes as they cross their lower set of arms. "What do you want, $name?" "What anyone comes to talk to you about, your wares." "I don't have any wares." "Oh, so we're lying to one another? I know I'm not exactly your favorite person after what happened to that-" "Shut up," they hiss, "I'm serious. Everyone came through to scoop up as many mods as possible." They snort. "As if that's going to save them from what's coming. I got three of them, and I doubt they'll do you any good." <a data-passage="2.17ModAbacusShop2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Let me be the judge of that." True to their word, the only mods to appear are: radiation shielding, something called the banshee call, and then an emergency manual sealant. Off the top of your head, you know the first and last. Radiation shielding is precisely what it sounds like, shielding devoted to reducing radiation. You're unsure when you'll ever need it, seeing that you're not wading through seas of pollution or particle emissions. The emergency manual sealing works when everything else goes dark in armor failure. Sometimes, the armor's backup sealing fails or has already gone off when another emergency appears. This mod is either verbally or physically inputted, and it'll seal all cracks, even those that aren't exactly unsealed. "The banshee call," you start, "what is that?" "AoE, from what I recall. If you find yourself surrounded, use this, and it's supposed to let out a shrill alarm. The closer someone is to you, the more they'll hear it." [[Get the radiation shielding.|2.17ABuy][$mod_shield_rad to true]] [[Get the banshee call.|2.17ABuy][$mod_banshee to true]] [[Get the emergency manual sealant.|2.17ABuy][$mod_sealant to true]] [[Buy nothing.|2.17ANothing]]
"Eh," you answer, "I can't see any of these being of any use." "Alright, suit yourself," they shrug. "So how's that hot zeach friend of yours doing?" <<include "2.17.1">>
"Alright, I'll buy this one off you." "No worries," Lundar hums, passing you the small installation chip. "I probably won't ever be able to sell these last three, so you taking one off my hand is payment enough. Especially if you throw in a date with that hot zeach friend of yours." <<include "2.17.1">>
You freeze, your nose wrinkling as you glance over at them. They couldn't possibly be talking about Checl, right? "Hot zeach?" "Yes," they draw out dreamily. "Sometimes I'll head by the outdoor market just to get a glimpse of those sexy tail feathers of his." "Ah, Prourc," you nod, shivering at the thought. That is not a thought you wish to entertain, even more of the idea that zeaches have tail feathers. "We'll be leaving tomorrow, so I don't think you'll ever get that chance." "You're messing with me for the sake of messing with me." "Sadly, I'm not." "The pods hate me," they sigh, shaking their head but seeming to get over it in the next few seconds. "If that's going to be all, I'd rather you take you and that ugly face elsewhere. Won't be able to sell these two mods if you're stalking around." [[“You're so sweet.”|2.17SoSweet]] [[“I just livened this place up.”|2.17LiveUp]] [[“Yea yea.”|2.17YeaYea]] [[Flip them the middle finger.|2.17MiddleFinger]]
"Oh, how are you still single? You're always so sweet and nice to your customers." "You're not a customer. Name the last thing you bought from me." "Not from a lack of attempt. Stop giving me your leftovers for free." "That shield mod wasn't a leftover," they grumble, but you fail to see their point. That was given free, too, after the two of you reached a deal about where you'll bring some of your items Prourc refused to buy. [[Leave the market.|2.18]] <<if not hasVisited("2.17GeneralShop")>>\[[Check out the general shop.|2.17GeneralShop]]<</if>>\
"Oh, trust me, I just made this booth more appealing. You need a famous face to get folks to talk." "Yes, the speckled terran. You're famous for one thing, and it has nothing to do with your skills." You lean in, trying to keep the sneer from your face. "And your name is forgettable. Known for nothing, will die with nothing." "You're still here?" Lundar snorts, crossing both sets of arms. At least you have proof that your words bothered them. Great, you'll both end this conversation with sour moods. [[Leave the market.|2.18]] <<if not hasVisited("2.17GeneralShop")>>\[[Check out the general shop.|2.17GeneralShop]]<</if>>\
"Yea, yea," you chuckle as you move away from their table. [[Leave the market.|2.18]] <<if not hasVisited("2.17GeneralShop")>>\[[Check out the general shop.|2.17GeneralShop]]<</if>>\
You don't say anything, just flip the middle finger their way as you head out of the area. [[Leave the market.|2.18]] <<if not hasVisited("2.17GeneralShop")>>\[[Check out the general shop.|2.17GeneralShop]]<</if>>\
Heading over to a vendor that you can best describe as being a 'general' one, you look over what they still have in stock. You've seen them sell everything from food to blankets to books to repair tools to even pieces of paper that are not wholly unsoiled. The kicker is that what they have today may not be what they have tomorrow, like a constantly rotating store that feels more like a speedy auction. In addition, it's always someone new. The longest you've seen the same person manning the cart is three days; after that, it is someone new and not even the same species all the time. You're sure that there's a story behind it, but it's always wiser to mind one's business, lest one wish to be included in whatever dark tale is being told. "Can I help you?" the nurien questions, their upper dark blue tesi are wrapped around one another to mirror something resembling a mohawk while the others are bound, poking out at different angles like a star. Leave it to the inhabitants of the Outlands to come up with creative tesi-styles that those in the city would probably faint from. You chuckle at that, sparing the storekeeper an apologetic glance. "Not yet," you tell them, looking over their stock. The first thing you notice is the small glass-appearing bottles that immediately cause you to grow excited. "Are these polycarbonate?" <a data-passage="2.17GeneralShop2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Yes." They answer too fast and with a frown, you 'accidentally' drop it. When it doesn't shatter, crack, or even appear to be damaged, you get your answer. This is one of the few types of containers that can be used to store $hound's spit, which can then be turned into toxins, as the BPA does not neutralize or negatively influence the chemicals. <<if $breed is "electric">>Though, now that you remember, $hound's spit can be turned into anything so the cannisters will probably be pointless.<</if>> "How much?" "Fifty for five." There is nothing else catching your eye. You have no need for blankets, clothing, or ... you pause, spotting a first aid kit. That would be helpful, and you doubt you possess one back home. "And the kit?" They have to glance to see what you are referring to before nodding. "Forty." Opening it, you find the usual items. Gauze, three different kinds of pain killers, scissors, syringes, tweezers, gloves, and an anti-disinfectant that brags about being safe for at least six different species. <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the canisters.|2.17GBuy][$solars -=50; $inv_5canisters to true]]<<elseif $inv_5canisters>>You already own the canisters.<<else>>You do not have enough solars to buy the canisters.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the med kit.|2.17GBuy][$solars -=40; $inv_medkit to true]]<<elseif $inv_medkit>>You already own the med kit.<<else>>You do not have enough solars to buy the med kit.<</if>> [[Move on.|2.17GNothing]]
<<if $inv_5canisters and $inv_medkit>>\ With your thanks uttered, you go. There's nothing more this particular vendor has that you want. <<if not hasVisited("2.17ModAbacusShop")>>\[[Check out the mod and abacus shop.|2.17ModAbacusShop]]<</if>>\ [[Leave the market.|2.18]] <<else>>\ You transfer the solars and once the nurien receives them, they pass the goods over. "Anything else? You seemed interested in the <<if $inv_5canisters is false>>canisters.<<else>>med kit.<</if>>" <<if $solars >=50>>[[Buy the canisters.|2.17GBuy][$solars -=50; $inv_5canisters to true]]<<elseif $inv_5canisters>>You already own the canisters.<<else>>You do not have enough solars to buy the canisters.<</if>> <<if $solars >=40>>[[Buy the med kit.|2.17GBuy][$solars -=40; $inv_medkit to true]]<<elseif $inv_medkit>>You already own the med kit.<<else>>You do not have enough solars to buy the med kit.<</if>> [[Move on.|2.17GNothing]] <</if>>\
Nothing catches your eye so you move on from the vendor. [[Check out the mod and abacus shop.|2.17ModAbacusShop]] [[Leave the market.|2.18]]
You take your time heading back to what has become your temporary home, your mind everywhere and nowhere. Walking streets you've never been down, and some that you have but have been altered by the war. Home. When was the last time a place truly felt like home and not just someplace you'd visit to rest your head? The Baron's house was a prison, and the Dinami, a slaughterhouse. This place was probably the closest, but it always held a time limit. <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> Entering the apartment, you find it dark, and all the boxes that once littered the counter are now missing. You wonder if Checl sold them or just gave them to Riq or someone she knew. Or … she might've just delivered them to Prourc, she probably hadn't wished to get rid of everything you all had. Noise from out on the balcony catches your attention, and you approach to see Checl standing there alone. <a data-passage="2.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You look deep in thought," you say in place of a greeting as you join her. Besides a light breeze, everything else feels still. The regular crowd hanging outside the building is absent, leaving their fires unlit. It's odd to not hear the cackling fire, even odder to see the dark, monstrous figures shooting past, their bravery unhindered now as they seek out their night's meal. <<if $mentor is "dead">>\ Part of me feels like something bad is going to happen," Checl sighs, both of you pausing and turning to see Zihr joining you. He spares you a glance and a nod but that is all. The real greeting he offers Checl makes it obvious that your conversation from the previous day has not yet left his mind. <<elseif $mentor is "unknown">>\ Part of me feels like something bad is going to happen," Checl sighs, both of you pausing and turning to see Zihr joining you. He doesn't even spare you a glance as he greets Checl. So either he failed to find his mentor, or he found him dead. Otherwise, he'd at least be in happier spirits, right? Though this is Zihr. For all you know, he actually did find his mentor safe and sound, but hasn't forgiven you for refusing to help in his quest. <<else>>\ Part of me feels like something bad is going to happen," Checl sighs, both of you pausing and turning to see Zihr joining you. "$name," he greets, with a nod, giving the same kind of greeting to Checl as he takes a seat. <</if>>\ "It's completely crazy to believe that in a few hours, we'll be out of here. That we'll once again be part of civilization." "Why do you keep saying that?" Zihr mumbles, leaning on the railing, his eyes on the stalking nightbeasts below. "This is civilization. Just because it's not to your liking doesn't make it barbaric." Checl's feathers rise. "Yes, you're right." <a data-passage="2.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Zihr is quiet for a moment before asking. "What is the city like? How different is it?" "So different," Checl draws out, her excitement hardly contained. "Everything is brighter and livelier, and there are so many different things to do, and see, and taste, and experience. You're going to love it, I know it." "I'll hold you to that," he finally says, giving her a light smile that causes her own smile to brighten. You're the only one who notices how it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You suppose you can't quite blame him. There's a difference between leaving because you've been dreaming of ridding yourself of the town you grew up in and knowing that no matter how much you love it, you'll have to go for the sake of your future. Would you have left Terra Genesis at all if given the choice? [[No, an entire planet to venture. You would've been happy to stay.|2.21][$view +=3]] [[No, you loved your home and the area.|2.21][$view -=5]] [[Yes, even though you knew you would return one day.|2.21][$view -=3]] [[Yes, you always wanted to see the world … the galaxy.|2.21][$view +=5]]
For a moment, you're lost in thought. Thinking what could've been if your little town was left alone. How many family members would still be alive if they weren't so prone to telling that one lie? //I'll be back.// They never return. Always leaving you to pick up the pieces and decide what to do next. Each lie saw you one step closer to being utterly alone until no one was left to tell that lie. <<if $souvenir is "nothing">><<else>>You instinctively reach for your $souvenir, part of you calming when you touch the familiar <<if $souvenir is "hat" or $souvenir is "scarf" or $souvenir is "jacket">>fabric. Once, it smelled as close to home as it could. Smelled like fresh dew and pine needles with a hint of whatever the merchant's store caused it to pick up. You hadn't washed it for weeks, just to savor that smell for as long as possible.<<else>>material.<</if>><</if>> What would've happened if your mother hadn't gone? If she stayed with the rest of you? Dimitri would've probably still been terrified, but he would've been able to cling to his mother for support, and she, as any mother knows how, could have soothed him. Would the trarkrans have forced them apart or let it stand for the simple fact that the two were compliant? And then Isaias. His lie was told years before, but what would have become of him if he never left to join the military? If he stayed with the family for all those years? The officer would've never come by. Would've never requested his help and thoughts because Isaias would've been just as clueless as any other citizen. Your mother wouldn't have gone, and your entire family would've all been there. Your mind attempts to go further than that. To the day the first lie was told. The man who started the Moran tradition of leaving and never returning. But you don't allow it. Maybe some other night you'll let that specific kind of torment eat at you until you're too mentally exhausted. Not tonight. Returning to the now, you realize that only one of your companions remains on the balcony with you. [[Checl.|2.21Checl]] <<if $mentor is "dead" or $mentor is "alive">>[[Zihr.|2.21Zihr]]<</if>>
She's staring out with reverence in her eye. If you didn't know her and hadn't just had your previous conversation, you'd think she was sad to leave because she had fallen in love with the Outlands. But no. That look was her imagining what lay beyond. To the 'civilization' she loved and had grown enamored with and was far too excited about returning to. "You know, when I was still in the ark, we would watch these holo-shows and movies made by other species. Some were funny or romantic or more action, but they were all so amazing and always showed these amazingly beautiful places that I couldn't wait to go and see. Do you know why?" You shake your head. "For the clothing," she giggles as if she said something more akin to a joke. "I saw these colors and how other species' bodies were made, and I just wanted to make clothes for them. From the simplest designs to really elaborate ones that would match their emotions and character. There was a pjulner who was playing this romantic villain. He was in love with a friend who made it clear that she would never love him that way, so he sabotaged every one of her relationships in this very dramatic way. I had sketched out some costume ideas, adding colors and making sure that every part of it would stress what kind of character he was. I had made one for every sabotage that he did." "This story has a happy ending, right?" "Why would it not?" "People, no matter the species, tend to bring others down for a long list of reasons. Even if they only want what's best for you. Their wants and beliefs sometimes leak in, and they forget it's not their life." Checl hums. "I guess if I showed interest in something that wasn't the arts, I'd receive that kind of reaction. But …" She trails off, glancing up at the velvet ethereal expanse and smiling. "But, I think they would be happy with anything I did. What about you?" "What about me?" <a data-passage="2.21Checl2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Come on," she begs, coming to your side but still retaining some distance. "There is so little I know about you. Anything I do know I found out on my own, or you told me because you really had no choice. Give me something fun. What is your favorite place?" "My favorite place?" "You have a favorite place, right? Something that just … makes you feel like you can relax?" You raise a brow but actually think about what she says. Do you? When is the last time you've actually done something relaxing? Technically, this entire visit to the Outlands would be the first time you actually had downtime. "Rooftops." "You know," she chuckles, "I should have guessed that by how many times you go up to ours. I never really considered it your 'getaway' place, though. What started it?" <<if $flirt_checl>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Isn't it past your bedtime?”|2.21CBedtime][$checlRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Isn't it past your bedtime?”|2.21CBedtime][$checlRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\ [[“I don't know.”|2.21CIDK]] [[“Enough.”|2.21CEnough][$open -=5]] [[“Answer truthfully.”|2.21CTruthfully][$open +=5]]
"Seriously?" you ask, glancing down at your wrist and bringing up the screen to show her the time. "I think it's past your bedtime." "I don't have a bedtime." "You haven't seen your feathers after a day of no rest. You need a bedtime." "Did you just call me ugly when I get no sleep?" You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you, shaking your head as you look over at Checl, who seems offended. "Come on, Checl," you smirk, "you and ugly can't really be put in the same sentence. Not unless there's an 'isn't' or a 'not' there too." "You could've just said no," she mumbles, glancing away as she fiddles with her feathers. "And miss out on a chance to compliment you? Never." "Thank you," she whispers, her voice soft as you notice she's standing closer than before. You don't allow your mind to go any further, already knowing what path it will head down and that it will be met with a dead end. <<include "2.21Checl3">>
"I don't know," you say without thought. When there is no other lie to fall back on, complete ignorance—with a touch of puerility—is always the solution. "$name." "Checl." She seems to get the message and takes a step back from you and the conversation. You have to give her props on her many attempts to get closer and establish a connection that goes past what you have already allowed. Out of everyone you know, you feel that Checl would be the last person to betray you. But there is still that chance. Even the kindest herbivores will eat meat. Furthermore, Checl presents you with an even bigger problem than mere betrayal. The understanding that if she was ever to see who you really were, she would run for the trees, screaming in terror and begging for another to save her. You are a monster, and a figure like Checl could easily sway you to leave your cave or the shadows. But once you entered the light, when there was nowhere to hide your numerous foibles, that would be all it took. And seeing that you never had to witness such a thing, you were loth to start now. <<include "2.21Checl3">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "Enough, Checl," you groan, hoping that every part of you portrayed just how over and done with the conversation you are. "Is it me or-" she starts, but you don't allow her to finish. "I said enough!" This time, she shuts up. Backing away and nodding in an apologetic-like fashion. You have to give her props on her many attempts to get closer and establish a connection that goes past what you have already allowed. Out of everyone you know, you feel that Checl would be the last person to betray you. But there is still that chance. Even the kindest herbivores will eat meat. Furthermore, Checl presents you with an even bigger problem than mere betrayal. The understanding that if she was ever to see who you really were, she would run for the trees, screaming in terror and begging for another to save her. You are a monster, and a figure like Checl could easily sway you to leave your cave or the shadows. But once you entered the light, when there was nowhere to hide your numerous foibles, that would be all it took. And seeing that you never had to witness such a thing, you were loth to start now. <<include "2.21Checl3">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> You shrug. "Fear. Wanting to breathe. Wanting to escape or imagine that I could be teleported miles … no, light-years, away from my world. I'm pretty sure stars would be the loudest thing in the galaxy, yet they're silent." You shake your head, laughing a little at how the explanation means nothing. What does it matter about stars and galaxies? And yet, as you glance up at the sky, there's just something about the entire universe being flaunted before you on such a minuscule scale that calms your errant soul. "Thank you for answering." Her voice feels like someone poured ice-cold water over your head when you were already freezing. Your heart skips a beat, and a gagging chill coats you like a new layer of skin. <<include "2.21Checl3">>
"You should get some sleep," you tell her, already standing to do the same. "I'll see you in the morning." You don't wait to hear anything else she'll say. You enter and head straight to your room. One last night here. One last night sleeping in this bed. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "So," you start, "how did it go with your mentor?" "It dissolved into a big argument that I ended up winning. Prourc was harder to win against. I almost wish I had brought you along, he likes you." "Prourc doesn't like anything but money." "Then you're the lone exception. I was there when you asked about the caravan; he folded quick. Getting him to even let me talk was a headache all its own." "What did you ask him?" "A spot on the caravan, I wanted my mentor to come with us. Even volunteered to give up my seat if that meant I could get him out of this place. I managed to get him the seat, but once we're at our destination... well, I guess I'll figure that out when it comes to it." "I have to ask. From what it sounds like, he raised you, right?" "Yes." "Then why do you simply refer to him as your mentor? Why not your adopted father, guardian, or at least by his name?" He shrugs. "Used to it now, but when I was younger, I refused to ever believe he was on my side. I blamed him for everything. Not knowing my parents, his fault. Not knowing where I came from, his fault. Growing up in the gang, on him and his bad decisions. Leaving the gang and coming here, his fault too." "What changed?" "I'm not exactly sure. Honestly, probably nothing. As a kid, I needed someone to blame, and if it wasn't his fault, then it was mine. And ... well, I couldn't be the reason. The older I get, the more I realize how wrong I was, but then who do I blame?" [[“Are you religious?”|2.12ZReligious]] [[“The universe.”|2.12ZUniverse]] [[“Maybe no one is to blame.”|2.12ZNoOneBlame]] [[“Your life, your fault.”|2.12ZYourFault]] <<else>>\ Neither of you says much, and for a while, you wonder if it would be wiser just to go inside and let him have whatever moment he seems to want to experience. "So, tell me the truth," Zihr starts, readjusting his stance. "How is it really?" [[“Checl was telling the truth.”|2.21ZTruth]] [[“Less amazing.”|2.21ZLess]] [[“I'm the wrong person to ask.”|2.21ZWrongPerson]] [[“Every place is different.”|2.21ZDifferent]] <</if>>\
"I'm curious, are you religious?" "That whole 'believe in a higher power' thing? No. Never was. My mentor never mentioned one, and the gang definitely didn't believe in them. I don't think I even knew that stuff existed until I talked to some regular people, and even then, it took them explaining for me to understand. I thought they were referring to some omnipotent leader." Zihr pauses, his brows furrowing as he cocks his head in your direction. "Are you?" "<<if $religious is "none" or $religious is "unk">>No. I was raised to believe, but it never struck, not with everything I've been through.<<elseif $religious is "gp">>Yes, and even after my faith was tested multiple times, I still believe.<<else>>Kinda, my beliefs don't really line up with a religious figure like most people. I believe in teachings and philosophies from those who preached them.<</if>>" <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"Just do what I do, blame the universe." "That seems gigantic." "Which makes it the easiest to blame. There are tons of people who think the universe controls all our fate and blah blah blah ..." You sigh, glancing up at the sky as if it'll give you a sign that it heard and rebukes you. But, of course, nothing happens. <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"So, what? Bad things just happen because they can?" "You know, if anyone else said that, I would call them childish. But, you probably actually believe that, huh?" "Sounds like I shouldn't answer that." <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"It's your life, makes sense that it'll be your fault." "So, all the bad things that happened to you ..." "Bold of you to think that I don't blame myself?" "Doesn't sound healthy." "Neither does placing blame on someone who doesn't deserve it. We all have our horrible coping methods." <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"For the most part, she was telling the truth." "Seriously?" he chuckles. "Yea. It is definitely louder and brighter, far more claustrophobic. Some of the cities can overwhelm your senses if you're not used to it." <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"Far less amazing than the picture she's trying to paint. It's wondrous, yes. Beautiful at times. But the way she made it seem …" You simply shake your head with a sigh. "And she was a slave," he reminds, his face contorted into confusion. "How can she still see the world as something beautiful when she was put through that?" You'd love to ask her the same question. It took an interesting breed of person to see the good when all you've been handed was the bad. <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"I'm not exactly the right person to ask that too." "Why?" "My experience isn't really similar to the average citizen. The things I experienced were widely different from all the other species." "I gotta ask, does the mysterious act ever get tiring?" "Nope," you snort. <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
"Telling you about one place wouldn't do another justice. It's not like the different Outland areas where the only true differences are architecture and the surrounding landscape. One city can be far larger, less diverse, and have more sights and less nature than the next. Another could be under the control of a certain species, so it follows their rules." <<include "2.21Zihr2">>
<<if $mentor is "alive">>\ "Do you think I'll finally be able to figure something out about my past?" "<<if $view >=50>>Maybe. You'll be surprised how easy it is to come across certain pieces of information, especially if you know what you're looking for. Easier if you came from some important family, but I don't know if raza work like that, not like other species at least.<<else>>Doubtful. The universe is big. Unless you know what you're searching for, you probably won't find anything pertaining to your history. Unless, you're some long lost prince. But I don't think raza work on that kind of spectrum, not like how other species do.<</if>>" <</if>>\ "How many species are out there?" "How many do you think are out there?" "More than a dozen, of course. Even if we don't get tons here in the Outlands. Can't picture anything more than maybe ... thirty?" "You would be so wrong," you chuckle, "there are hundreds." "Hundreds?!" You hum your answer, producing a small smile as you sit on one of the stair's steps. <a data-passage="2.21Zihr3"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Are raza that common, or is it just because of here?" "Oh no, your species is one of the more common ones. I'd say the top five would be the trarkran, zeach, raza, terran, and vetix. Though I guess that's not fair when nuriens can be found almost everywhere too." "What about the shaph?" "Common, but not as much as terran. I'd place them just a bit below nuriens. But seriously, don't take that as them not being common. They are everywhere too. A lot of species are. Shaph, nuriens, fy'licia's, and arxric. All of that is just off the top of my head. That's not even hitting on half-breeds." "You must be proud. I at least know that your people were-" "They are not my people," you hiss, correcting your expression of emotions before the word 'people' makes it past your lips. You sigh, squinting as you look in the distance. "I understand," Zihr finally replies. "I don't feel much like a raza either." [[“It's not the same.”|2.21ZNotSame]] [[“Because you were out here?”|2.21ZOutHere]]
"It's not the same. You are still of the species raza. The only thing I have in common with the terrans you usually see is the word terran. Our system has two types of terrans: Genisers and Primers. I'm the former." "Evolution differences?" "Yea. You won't see a lot of Genisers out here. Not unless-" You almost slip. The words are almost said, but you catch yourself. Just like that, it was going to come tumbling out. A pretty night is all it took. How pedestrian. <<include "2.21Zihr4">>
"Because you don't know your family?" "Yes and no. Mostly because I wasn't raised around the culture; I was raised to be an Outlander. I don't know one thing about them. For all I know, I don't even act like a raza." "I know what you mean, but you don't have to worry about that at least. One specific kind of personality isn't really something you'll see in most species." "It happens in terrans?" "Not Genisers. Primers, who knows." "Genisers," Zihr says slowly, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I've never heard of either. Are you two different kinds of evolution?" "Yea. You won't see a lot of Genisers out here. Not unless-" You almost slip. The words are almost said, but you catch yourself. Just like that, it was going to come tumbling out. A pretty night is all it took. How pedestrian. <<include "2.21Zihr4">>
You stiffen, about to suggest that you both head inside to sleep. You'll have to be up early if you want to get to Prourc in time. "My mentor used to say to me again and again: if you don't talk about it and keep it in, it'll start to eat you from the inside. It'll taint all of you until that rot makes it outside, and by then, there'll be nothing left for you to do about it." [[“Too late.”|2.21ZLate]] <<if $mentor is "alive">>[[“My mom said the same.”|2.21ZMom]]<<else>>[[“If only he told that to his killers.”|2.21ZKillers][$zihrLo -=1]]<</if>> [[“And did you talk more?”|2.21ZTalkMore]] <<if $flirt_zihr>>\ <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“You offering?”|2.21ZOffering][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“You offering?”|2.21ZOffering][$zihrRoPo +=1]]<</if>> <</if>>\
You chuckle softly as you replay the words in your head. There is truth in them. Sadly, it is far too late for you to heed them. Decades too late. If this sort of stuff truly devoured and contorted, it'd make sense why you hardly recognize who you are anymore. Each time you truly study yourself, someone else stares back. "Well," you grin, "it's a little too late for that." You nod to the door. "I'll see you in the morning." You don't wait around to hear if Zihr says anything else. You just head out and go to the bed you'll sleep in one last time. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"My mom used to say the same," you admit, "a bit different. Less talk about rotting and more talk about how it'll just cause you to blow up." "Not prone to taking her advice then?" he asks, attempting a smile that you don't reflect. "No, just never been a fan of taking advice from someone who doesn't follow it." You nod to the door. "I'll see you in the morning." You don't wait around to hear if Zihr says anything else. You just head out and go to the bed you'll sleep in one last time. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"If only he told that to his killers. Maybe they wouldn't have blown up his home." You don't give yourself enough time to see how Zihr's face probably contorts in anger, and you damn sure don't wait around to hear him talk about how much he detests you. Re-entering the house, you glance around the darkness before heading towards your room to sleep in your bed for one final time. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"And did it make you talk more?" Zihr snorts, shaking his head as he turns to face you. "No, not really. More like it just pissed me off, and I told him that he's the last person to ever say that to me. He knew most of my problems." "Most?" "As I grew older, I took on more and stopped talking to him as much. He could read me easily enough, though, so whenever he knew I was stuck in my own mind, he'd say it." "So, you heard it a lot, huh?" He barks out a laugh, nodding. "Yea … yea, I did." At the mention of his mentor, the mood plummets even more. There is little if nothing more to say, so you stand, performing a light stretch as you nod back to the building. "I'll see you in the morning." You don't wait around to hear if Zihr says anything else. You just head out and to the bed you'll sleep in one more time. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You offering to be that ear?" "Something tells me that if I said yes, half the things you say wouldn't be truthful." You shrug. "Can't say you're wrong. Maybe once I was the more talkative sort, but if I was, then I can't even remember when that was. Years and years later, and this is the outcome." "Almost sounds like you've given up." "And if I have?" "Never thought of you as the type to give up." You stand and stretch, scanning your immediate surroundings one last time before focusing back on Zihr. "That's because you don't know me." You head back inside and towards your room to sleep in your bed for one final time. <a data-passage="2.21.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Or not so much sleep. <a data-passage="2.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> You return to the balcony, this time alone. Your eyes rest on the land stretching out miles before you. In a day, you will traverse said land, and soon after, you will finally be amongst the so-called peak of civilization. And from there, this yearly vacation will come to an end. Contacting the Dinami is the first thing on your list and quite possibly the only thing. It's been a year since Tsering's betrayal, and he has either spun a cluster of lies, or the Dinami have punished him. The latter is far more welcomed, but the chances are low unless the events of that cargo plane aren't as simple as you have already guessed. There are too many factors that you know nothing of. But you will find your answers soon. <a data-passage="Chapter Three"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_3.png" alt="Chapter Three" style="float:center"/></a>
<img src="images/compendium.png" width="80%"> <div class="codex"> <a data-passage="StatGuide">guide</a> <a data-passage="Locations">locations</a> <a data-passage="Species">species</a> <a data-passage="Flora/Fauna">fauna</a> <a data-passage="Factions">factions</a> <a data-passage="Dictionary">dictionary</a> </div> @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
<h2>Crion</h2> [[Return|$return]]
<<link 'Bhela'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/bhela.png" align="right" width="30%">The bhela (be-la) is a sentient, bipedal mammalian species hailing from the Cyule solar system, originating from the planet Inveron. Due to their unique bone structure and need for darkness, they are not as widespread as other species at the same technological level. The species themselves are highly social and typically live in the cave systems of their planet and on planets farther from the sun, in darkness. The species has an uncanny resemblance to terrans with familiar body proportions. The main difference between the two is that the bhela have hollow bones, allowing them greater mobility and endurance but rendering them far weaker, nearly fragile. As a result, many bhela work in extremely low-risk jobs, though a few have been known to push themselves and pursue careers such as dancing. Most options are cut off by employers who would much rather not have to deal with a figure who could potentially snap their bodies in two. Appearance-wise, they resemble skeletons with thin, sunken, pale skin and dark circles around the eyes. They have no pupils, and their eyes look similar to those with cataracts. Their noses are inverted, pushed further into their faces, rendering their smell borderline rubbish. Mostly, they rely on eyesight, but it is only helpful in the darkness. The species shows no dimorphism, with all bhela resembling one another. They are not an individualistic people; instead, they show allegiances based on their colonies. These allegiances are shown through a variety of markings that they paint on their heads and bodies.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Nurien'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>> Nuriens are a bipedal mammalian species that come in only two colors: purple or blue. Despite this, the scaling that can be found all over their body could be a vast array of colors besides pure white, though a grey shade has been seen in several of them. On their foreheads are two slightly inward curving horns whose primary color matches their scales, while the secondary color relies on genetics. Their faces are similar to that of the trarkran species, with the exception that they have four nostrils in the form of slits rather than holes and that their noses are much flatter, resting against their faces. They possess lips, blunt teeth, rigged ears, and two front-facing eyes. Their sclera is commonly the opposite color of their skin, with purple-toned nurien having blue and blue with purple. Size varies significantly, with most of them being an average of 160 pounds, but it is not difficult to find those that are thinner or thicker. Unlike most species with head crests, a nuriens crest can grow in many different ways. Some find them growing in specific directions, others have far thicker crests, and others find themselves with thinner ones. The length will grow over time, much like that of terran hair. If a nurien wishes their crests to be shorter, they have to burn the edges until they shrink and fall off. This does hurt them, unlike cutting, which will then cause intense pain and bleeding. Due to this, the nurien species can rearrange their crests in different styles that most cannot. Though the species has sexual dimorphism between their two sexes: female and male, it can only truly be seen through the actual body, with females possessing breasts and vaginas and men with no breasts and a penis.<</dialog>><</link>> *Raza *<<link 'Shaph'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/shaph.png" align="right" width="30%">The shaph is a bipedal creature that possess four arms of the same length with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers holding an opposable thumb. They are flat-footed with feet possessing four toes. They are a muscular and bulky species, weighing anything between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg) though this number has been known to be higher. Their skin is made up of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood and has a texture similar to the plants from their homeworld, Stronoe. A Shaph's skin is smooth but thick, providing natural armor but also skin that takes an exceedingly long time to adjust to new temperatures. The ideal temperature is between 70°F/20°C and 80°F/26°C. An individual can live in temperatures higher and lower but will find themselves extremely uncomfortable and find it hard to function for a few months until they are adjusted. The wider the gap, the longer it will take for a Shaph to adjust. Due to this, most Shaphs will stay in familiar biomes or will need to wear protective suits to combat the temperature shifts. A Shaph's blood is black, similar in color to the nitrogen oxide gas that they can naturally emit. As many species see and experience it, the shaph do not have binary sexes but trinary. All three sexes are needed to properly "give birth." Each shaph is born with one of three different facial markings which act as the only visual identifier to an individual's sex. Shaph is a genderless race and do not recognize the use of pronouns. Instead they simply use their names.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Terran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>>Terrans are a sentient, bipedal mammal race originating from the planet Terra Genesis in the Terra system. Thanks to their high fertility and quick breeding capabilities, they soon became one of the dominant species (rivaled only by the trarkrans and raza). This earned them the ire of the galaxy, but at the same time became highly favored for many tasks due to their high adaptability. Whereas other species could not do various jobs due to several things, terrans proved fairly adaptable and hardy enough to exist throughout multiple places in the galaxy. A terran's base senses are average, which is neither good nor bad compared to other species that find one sense surpassing others or all senses being sub-par at best. A terran's anatomy allows them to be fairly flexible, built mainly for endurance. Once struck by cosmicium, the terran adaptability trait evolved. Once able to simply adapt to specific circumstances, reasonable temperatures, and mild changes in the environment. Being touched by cosmicium saw their adaptability occurring at a far faster pace. Though there is still a limit to how the body will change, a terran's body and senses will evolve to better accommodate their surroundings. Hybrids, commonly known as tetigit terran, see a greater range of senses and adaptability. They also possess a range of psionic powers that range from diminutive to immense.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Trarkran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/trarkran.png" align="right" width="30%">(Tu-wahk-wen) The trarkran are native to the Lyrae System, originating from Miarilia. They are the most prominent species in the galaxy and the first to discover and utilize cosmicium. Almost every species, save for vetix and draqe, have them to thank for where they are today. They are a traditional and highly competitive society that openly views their ways as superior to other species. The trarkran basic anatomy is similar to the terran's, with significant differences being their cartilage-based head crests, tails, and having only four digits on their hands. Their head crests are flexible and hardy and, therefore, able to be moved in a series of different styles without concern of damage. Crest limitations and growth are specific to the individual, with some finding their crest growing only a few inches before stopping and others finding their crests thicker and longer than others. Their crests are always an ombre color, with the base being the same as their skin and the tip being the same shade as their facial marking. They possess two sensitive ears that sit high on their heads and are used as a form of expression. They possess flat noses with ridges and small spikes on both sides of their jaws. They also have tails, with males possessing only one and females possessing two. In both circumstances, these highly flexible tails are used for balance, piercing, and are later shown to also be used to care for the young. The tail is strong enough to lift various things, and a child is one of them. Due to females being the primary hunters, the extra tail allows for additional balance and mobility, and when used during hunts as a rudder, allows for sharper turns and a boost of speed during these turns. The species' skin tones range from shades of brown, orange, and red, while facial markings rely on their skin tone but will predominantly be shades of brown or grey. Their eyes have been observed to exist in every color save for white and black. Their pupils are slits that can get rounder upon dilation, and their brightly saturated irises are large and always resting against a black sclera. Cosmicium reacts different to all species. For trarkran, it led to a manipulation of their blood, thus allowing them to inflame a mix of energy and blood and use it as a power source known as moi̥. Able to be utilized as a defensive and offensive ability, trarkrans must also discharge it in an act called 'sparking.' A buildup of blood and energy can lead to death if not emptied. Severe heat temperatures will also cause the sensation to grow faster, while colder temperatures are slowed due to the buildup being burned off to heat the individual.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Vetix'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/vetix.png" align="right" width="30%">The third most widespread species would be the vetix and, similar to terrans, have races within their species: the Voth, Askax, and Vranok. War and religious infighting plagues their history and has led to the destruction of their planet. Vetix generally stand around 5'8 (172.72 cm) to 6'6 feet (198.12 cm) and are all quite muscular. Their bodies are made up of soft reptilian-like scales and far more rigid chitin material covering their sides, back, and the upper part of their heads. They have olive toned blood that will darken upon exiting the body. Whereas their body can exist in orange, tan, brown, and black colors, their chitin markings are always dark grey, brown, or black. These markings have three different styles, which differ depending on one's race. They are primarily a monomorphic species with only head crests giving any visible sign of a difference between genders. Females' head crests lie closer to the cranium and do not travel as far as males'. They have four fingers with sharp claws and two toes at the end of each foot. Their legs have a slight digitigrade appearance, and on the back of each calf are two upturned, thick spikes. Similar curved spikes can also be found on their elbows and exist in threes. They have three slits on both sides of the neck that help with temperature regulation. Though their other senses are nowhere near lacking, the one sense that vetix are best known for is their sight. They have exceptional sight that becomes even more so in the absence of light. While many species portray their emotions differently, vetix mainly shows theirs through their eyes. When portraying moods that the individual perceives as negative, their eye color will lose saturation, while positive emotions will find the saturation growing. All races can share memories through their eyes. Intentions and prolonged eye contact are required for the action to occur.<</dialog>><</link>> *<<link 'Zeach'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/zeach.png" align="right" width="30%">The zeach are a sentient, bipedal avian race that once held the ability to glide but has since lost such a function. They originate from the planet Dichi, but after surrendering to the vetix, can now be found largely on Cheria. The zeach have slender frames and stand anywhere between 5'7 (68 inches) to 6'5 (77 inches), though head feathers may add a few more inches. They have two arms with three fingers on each hand and two toes. The palms of their hands are softly padded while their nails are slightly curved and talon-like. Two sets of three, thin ears resembling butterfly wings rest along the side of their face. These ears are extremely sensitive and help regulate the species temperature. Mandible flaps exist around their mouth and lend credence to an all vegetation diet. The most notable feature on a zeach are their head feathers. Feathers can be found on both the species head and the elbow area. They have wide eyes with their sclera being either white or gold and the actual iris being black with no visible pupil. Unlike most species, the zeach have no kind of natural armor, a fact that may be due to the lack of predators on their home planet. They have a faster metabolism than many and their bodies are made for quickness and agility, not strength or endurance. Their skin tones can range from gold and browns to black and white and grey, and though not common, red. Along with obvious genitals, one can tell the difference between the sexes due to feather coloring. Male feathers are often shorter with muted colors of brown, black, white, and grey. While the female sex possess longer feathers that are thicker and bolder in color.<</dialog>><</link>> [[Return|$return]]
*Aiczeots *Boaroc *Dhole *Nightbeasts [[Return|$return]]
*Dinami *Tebriri Nightwalkers *Black Star *Wasteland Howlers [[Return|$return]]
@@.center;<h1>SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE</h1>@@ Many languages exist in the Republic of America with some areas having an official language recognized, while others have long given up such a journey. In the Southern Midland part of the country lies Neo Mexico, Arizona, Louisana, and New Texas where Spanish, English, and French have combined to form a new dialect known as South Midland Creole (or referred to as South Midi for those who speak it). Along with words from all three languages, new words and phrases have also been created uniquely to the area. *''buenas tardes'' - Spanish greeting meaning 'good afternoon' *''canza'' (can-zya) - less of a word and more of a quick combination of 'can' and 'ya(you)'. Most will shorten it even more such as 'canza calm or canza quiet' meaning 'can you be calm' or 'can you be quiet' *''connasse'' n. - French derogatory meaning 'bitch' *''cré'jo'' n. - usually used as a derogatory term of endearment meaning 'cretinous idiots' or 'absolute idiot' *''Être bucké'' - a French expression meaning to be 'stubborn' *''frère'' n. - French for brother *''fiche le camp'' - a French phase meaning 'get out of here' *''hace mucho calor'' - Spanish phrase referring to the weather. Means 'it is really hot' *''je promesa'' - A mix between Spanish and French meaning "I promise" *''je t'aime'' - French for "I love you" *''lil'étoile'' - French and English mix for little star *''mi culo'' - Spanish phrase meaning 'my ass' *''moche'' adj. - French word meaning ugly or (in context to the story) lousy *''pendejo'' n. - Spanish derogatory for 'idiot,' though the word may shift depending on area. *''por qué'' or ''pourquoi'' - Spanish or French for 'why'. Native speakers often say a mix of both. *''prigar'' v. - meaning 'beg' and 'plead.' Usually can be seen in sentences like "I vous en priega" or "I t'en priegas" *''salut'' - French informal greeting meaning 'hello' *''shi'quoi'' - an exclamation more than a question meaning 'what, really!?' or "what, seriously!?" In certain parts of Neo Mexico and New Texas it is used as an insult, calling someone a 'clueless piece of shit'. *''tais-toi'' - French for "shut up" *''te ves como mierda'' - Spanish for "you look like shit" *''tout d'suite'' - a French phrase meaning 'immediately' or 'right now' *''un momento'' - Spanish for 'one moment' *''va t’a la chingada'' - A mix between Spanish and French meaning "go to hell"<br> @@.center;<h1>TYLI'QU | TYLI'KILSI</h1>@@ Nicknamed the language of the civilized galaxy, Tyli'qu is the most recognizable language in the galaxy. Even if most abacuses failed, the majority would be able to at least somewhat communicate due to this language (save some of the newer discovered sentient species). It was created by the trarkran species, and a modified version exists named Tyli'kilsi, which is a creole mix between the original raza language and Tyli'qu. *''kursur'' (ˈkulku) n. - a derogatory term used to describe someone of poor character who betrays those they know for baseless desires. It was usually used by raza and given to other raza who gave others up to trarkran forces for little gain. *''lu̥skolki̥'' (lu̥s / kolki̥) n. - a utensil that appears like chopsticks with sharp, pointy ends and serrated sides so the sticks can be used for both cutting and poking. *''mao'' (ˈmao) v. - fight, attack, assault *''u̥kti'mam'' n. - translates into divided group/community/herd etc. *''moi̥'' (mu-we) v. - means to shine, glow, radiate, sweat, blush. It is also the name used to describe the trarkran's specific fire/spark ability. *''pem-rits'' (pem / riʦ) - with pem meaning 'blood' and rits representing the preposition 'of' this combined phrase is present in every trarkran name. It shows at the end due to structure and points at the bloodline of the individual. *''relsim'' n. - idiot or fool.<br> @@.center;<h1>PENCHI</h1>@@ One of the last remaining languages considered 'ancient,' the Penchi language has seen little evolution through its centuries of existence and has only seen any kind of mild introductions due to outside influences such as the vetix. The language is that of the zeach and most of their phonetics is a variety of sounds that are very much bird-like. *''hovni'' (oph-nee) v. - found in the Penchi language. Equivalent of the derogatives shit and fuck.<br> @@.center;<h1>SIKSTAN</h1>@@ Sikstan is the language spoken by the botanical species of the shaph. The language itself is made up of verbal and gestures components. Due to having more than the standard two arms, many of the gestures cannot be replicated by most and so the language has modified versions. *''khingʻ'' (xiŋʔ) v. - found in the Sikstan language. The word describes a process where a shaph will sit and connect to a power source, usually done in the vicinity of a large plant like a tree. At this time they are essentially recharging and feeding themselves. In other languages, this words is translated to meditation and in others, to sleep. *''skuwim'' n. - the closest translation is person, though in Sikstan it is more so used to describe what they are 'a soul of the ground and roots' *''syaks'' (swujaks) n. - found in the Sikstan language. Origin, root. @@.center;<h1>OTHER</h1>@@ *''tu mad, huh? If a dirt, a dirt. If squelch in tib, keep flying. Heard?'' - A phrase spoken by Isaias that consists of a mix between South Midland Creole, Jamaican patois, Genesis military slang, and Caribbean Republic Creole. In basics, he is asking: "if Moran is mad. That it is, what it is and that if you step in oil/mess while in a ship tube then you just have to keep going as there's no point to stopping. Understand?" [[Return|$return]]
<img class="img-invert" src="images/bumstudios.png" width="500" height="111" align ="center"> @@.center; ©2023 Bum Studios LLC. All rights reserved. @@ All images and audio are licensed under Bum Studios LLC. Copyright infringement is punishable by law. Audio belongs to respected artists and courtesy of Storyblocks Audio, Envato, and Incompetech. Incompetech attribution found in ''CREDITED MUSIC'' section. ''CONTACT'' If you have any questions or issues please contact me @ ... email: 13leaguestories@gmail.com tumblr: 13leaguestories.tumblr.com ''CREDITED MUSIC'' Music: Lorem Ipsum (With Sum Crossings) by Lilo Sound Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/9863-lorem-ipsum-with-sum-crossings License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license Artist website: https://electronicmoods.com/ ''CREDITED ART'' Species Art by [[Beto Miranda|https://betomirandaart2.carrd.co/]] Character and Aiczeots Art by [[Nilus|https://nilusart.tumblr.com/]] Moran Compendium Art by [[Cakeatoolovesyou|https://www.tumblr.com/cakeatoolovesyou]] ''TWINE WIDGETS'' By [[HiEv|https://qjzhvmqlzvoo5lqnrvuhmg.on.drv.tw/UInv/Sample_Code.html#Main%20Menu]] and [[Chapel|https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/#/]] [[Return|$return]]
<span class="sidenote">Select the title image for an in-depth look at each category when applicable.</span> <a data-passage="Sidebar_Personal"><img src="images/personal.png" alt="Personal"/></a> ''Name'': $name Moran ''Brain'': <<if $mind gt $gut and $mind gt $heart>>Rational<<elseif $heart gt $mind and $heart gt $gut>>Emotional<<elseif $gut gt $mind and $gut gt $heart>>Instinctual<<else>>Balanced<</if>> ''Alignment:'' <<if $approach >=60>>Lawful<<elseif $approach <=40>>Chaotic<<else>>Neutral<</if>> <<if $attitude >=60>>Light<<elseif $attitude <=40>>Dark<<else>>Neutral<</if>> ''Class'': $class ''Health'': $health ''Account'': $solars ''Agility'': $agility ''Combat'': $combat ''Medical'': $medical ''Weapons'': $weapons ''Diplomacy'': $tact ''Technology'': $tech ''Intelligence'': $smarts ''Comic'' <meter @value="$humor" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Sober'' ''Zealous'' <meter @value="$view" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Jaded'' ''Candid'' <meter @value="$open" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Evasive'' ''Warm'' <meter @value="$emotion" min="0" max="100"></meter> ''Numb'' <sub><<link 'see number version'>><<dialog 'Personal'>>''Comic'': <<print $humor>> ''Zealous'': <<print $view>> ''Candid'': <<print $open>> ''Warm'': <<print $emotion>> <</dialog>><</link>></sub> <a data-passage="Sidebar_Loadout"><img src="images/loadout.png" alt="Loadout"/></a> <<if $ch_loadout is 0>>\ ''Dinami GoTo'' ''Armor'': Javelin Light Armor <<if $markings is "purple">>(+10 Natural Armor Bonus)<</if>> ''Primary Weapon'': Eli IV Pulse Pistol ''Secondary Weapon'': Common Tactical Blade <<elseif $ch_loadout is 1>>\ <<if $ch4captured>>''Loadout'':<<else>>''The Outlander''<</if>> ''Armor'': No Armor <<if $markings is "purple">>(+10 Natural Armor Bonus)<</if>> ''Primary Weapon'': <<if $ch4captured or hasVisited("1.03GiveHalf")>>No Weapon<<else>>Desert Heat Pistol<</if>> ''Secondary Weapon'': <<if $ch4captured>>No Weapon<<else>>Common Tactical Blade<</if>> <<elseif $ch_loadout is 6>>\ ''Nightwalker'' ''Armor'': $armor_type ''Primary Weapon'': $w_primary ''Secondary Weapon'': $w_secondary <<else>>\ ''Loadout'': ''Armor'': $armor_type ''Primary Weapon'': $w_primary ''Secondary Weapon'': $w_secondary <</if>>\ <a data-passage="Sidebar_Relations"><img src="images/relations.png"></a> <<link "Tsering Arinasai">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/tsering_card.jpg" alt="Tsering Arinasai"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $tsering >=50>>Playful<<else>>Serious<</if>> Loyalty: $tserLo <<if $flirt_tser>>\Romance: $tserRo/<<if $tserRo >=50>>Dominant<<else>>Submissive<</if>><<else>><</if>>\ <<if $unlock_checl>> <<link "Checl Queziz">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/checl_card.jpg" alt="Checl Queziz"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $checl >=50>>Sheltered<<else>>Hardened<</if>> Loyalty: $checlLo <<if $flirt_checl>>\Romance: $checlRo/<<if $checlRo >=50>>Nervous<<else>>Teasing<</if>><<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_zihr>> <<link "Zihr Highstrider">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/zihr_card.jpg" alt="Zihr Highstrider"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $zihr >=50>>Rebel<<else>>Compliant<</if>> Loyalty: $zihrLo <<if $flirt_zihr>>\Romance: $zihrRo/<<if $zihrRo >=50>>Direct<<else>>Reserved<</if>><<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_ne0>>\ <<link "ELN-L593-NE0">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/ne0_card.jpg" alt="ELN-L593-NE0"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $ne0 >=50>>Emotional<<else>>Logical<</if>> Loyalty: $ne0Lo <</if>>\ <<if $unlock_sin>> <<link "Sin D' Baloren">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/sin_card.jpg" alt="Sin D' Baloren"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $sin >=50>>Patient<<else>>Strict<</if>> Loyalty: $sinLo <<if $flirt_sin>>\Romance: $sinRo/<<if $sinRo >=50>>Career<<else>>Family<</if>><<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_minute>> <<link "Minute">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/minute_card.jpg" alt="Minute"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $minute >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $minuteLo <<if $flirt_minute>>\Romance: $minuteRo<<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_seben>> <<link "Seben">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/seben_card.jpg" alt="Seben"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $seben >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $sebenLo <<if $flirt_seben>>\Romance: $sebenRo<<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_dereje>> <<link "Dereje Āl-Memphis">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/dereje_card.jpg" alt="Dereje"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $memphis >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $memphisLo <<if $flirt_memphis>>\Romance: $memphisRo<<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>> <<if $unlock_jakari>> <<link "Jakari Āl-Memphis">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ <img src="images/cards/jakari_card.jpg" alt="Jakari"/> <</popover>>\ <</link>>: <<if $memphis >=50>><<else>><</if>> Loyalty: $memphisLo <<if $flirt_memphis>>\Romance: $memphisRo<<else>>Not Romanceable<</if>>\ <</if>>
@@.center;<h1>BIOGRAPHY</h1>@@ ''Name'': $name Moran ''Gender'': <<if $trans>>Trans <</if>>$gender ''Pronouns'': ?he/?him ''Appearance'': Your eye and marking color is $markings and you <<if $length is "bald">>are bald.<<else>>have $length, $color <<if $hair is "braids" or $hair is "dreads">>$hair<<else>>$hair hair<</if>><</if>>. You have <<if $tattoo is "none">>no<<elseif $tattoo is "few">>a few<<else>>several<</if>> tattoos and <<if $scars is "none">>no<<elseif $scars is "few">>a few<<else>>several<</if>> scars. Your most prominent scar(s) are: a jagged one resting across the right side of your back<<if hasVisited("8FBSpit")>>, another arching across your right cheek<</if>>. Your genitals are <<if $sex is "v">>a vagina<<elseif $sex is "p">>a penis<<else>>not disclosed<</if>> and you have <<if $chest is "p">>visible breasts<<else>>no visible breasts<</if>>. ''Current Health'': $health ''Current Injuries'': <<if $injury_leg>>Leg injury.<<else>>You have no current injuries.<</if>> @@.center;<h1>PERSONALITY & SKILLS</h1>@@ ''Brain'': <<if $mind gt $gut and $mind gt $heart>>Rational<<elseif $heart gt $mind and $heart gt $gut>>Emotional<<elseif $gut gt $mind and $gut gt $heart>>Instinctual<<else>>Balanced<</if>> ''Alignment:'' <<if $approach >=60>>Lawful<<elseif $approach <=40>>Chaotic<<else>>Neutral<</if>> <<if $attitude >=60>>Good<<elseif $attitude <=40>>Evil<<else>>Neutral<</if>> ''Manipulation Style:'' <<if ($coercer gt $charmer) and ($coercer gt $silencer) and ($coercer gt $broker) and ($coercer gt $evader) and ($coercer gt $shamer)>>Coercer<<elseif ($charmer gt $coercer) and ($charmer gt $silencer) and ($charmer gt $broker) and ($charmer gt $evader) and ($charmer gt $shamer)>>Charmer<<elseif ($silencer gt $coercer) and ($silencer gt $charmer) and ($silencer gt $broker) and ($silencer gt $evader) and ($silencer gt $shamer)>>Silencer<<elseif ($broker gt $coercer) and ($broker gt $charmer) and ($broker gt $silencer) and ($broker gt $evader) and ($broker gt $shamer)>>Broker<<elseif ($evader gt $coercer) and ($evader gt $charmer) and ($evader gt $silencer) and ($evader gt $broker) and ($evader gt $shamer)>>Evader<<elseif ($shamer gt $coercer) and ($shamer gt $charmer) and ($shamer gt $silencer) and ($shamer gt $broker) and ($shamer gt $evader)>>Shamer<<else>>Mixed<</if>> ''Comic'' vs ''Sober'': <<if $humor >=50>>Comic<<else>>Sober<</if>> ''Zealous'' vs ''Jaded'': <<if $view >=50>>Zealous<<else>>Jaded<</if>> ''Candid'' vs ''Evasive'': <<if $open >=50>>Candid<<else>>Evasive<</if>> ''Agility'': $agility ''Combat'': $combat ''Medical'': $medical ''Weapons'': $weapons ''Diplomacy'': $tact ''Technology'': $tech ''Intelligence'': $smarts ''Threat Level'': U0 ''Class'': $class ''Leadership'': $leader @@.center;<h1>QUIRKS & MISC</h1>@@ ''Religious'': <<if $religious is "none">>Moran does not believe in religion of any sort, theistic or non.<<elseif $religious is "gp">>Moran believes in the god(s).<<elseif $religious is "gnp">>Moran does not believe in god(s), but instead believes in teachings to help live one's life by.<<elseif $religious is "unk">>Moran believes in something greater, but nothing more is questioned.<<else>>Moran's stance is not yet known.<</if>> ''Idle Hobby'': <<if $idle is "cig">>Cigarettes<<elseif $idle is "candy">>Candy<<elseif $idle is "pick">>Toothpick<<else>>Nothing<</if>> ''Homeplanet Souvenir'': <<if $souvenir is "hat">>A hat<<elseif $souvenir is "jacket">>A jacket<<elseif $souvenir is "necklace">>A necklace<<elseif $souvenir is "scarf">>A scarf<<else>>Nothing<</if>> <<if $hobby_stories>>''Story Hobby'': Moran appreciates a good story and has a plethora to share in ?his own arsenal.<</if>> @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
@@.center;<h1>MODS & UPGRADES</h1>@@ ''Core Mods'' *''Health'': Required to hold boosters and packs. Also holds an emergency health booster. Purchased: <<if $mod_health>>✓<<else>>✗<</if>> *''Shield'': A shield built into the abacus. Commonly used as a backup to armor shields. Required for other shield upgrades and mods. Purchased: <<if $mod_shield>>✓<<else>>✗<</if>> *''Cloak'': A stealth cloak to make sneaking easier. Required for upgrades and mods pertaining to certain types of armor. Purchased: <<if $mod_cloak>>✓<<else>>✗<</if>> *''Hack'': A hacking toolset and program. Required for more extensive and specific hacking mods and upgrades. Purchased: <<if $mod_hack>>✓<<else>>✗<</if>> *''Ammo'': A mod that allows guns to use a wider variety of ammo. Required on all non-plasma guns to use additional, unique ammo. Purchased: <<if $mod_ammo>>✓<<else>>✗<</if>> ''Other Mods & Upgrades'' <<if $mod_shield_rad>>\ *''Radiation Shielding'': Shield upgrade that protects from radiation. Requires shield mod to work. <</if>>\ <<if $mod_banshee>>\ *''Banshee Call'': A proximity mod that will play a shrill call at high enough frequencies to cause hearing discomfort for those in a specific radius. <</if>>\ <<if $mod_sealant>>\ *''Emergency Manual Sealant'': An emergency armor sealant that has to be used remotely. <</if>>\ @@.center;<h1>OTHER INVENTORY</h1>@@ <<if $inv_bsdatachip or $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked or $inv_bsdatachip_unused>>\ <<if $inv_bsdatachip>>*''Gang Datachip'': A lost datachip given by a Bhela prisoner. There may be something of interest on it. <<elseif $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked>>*''Black Star Datachip'': A lost datachip given by a Bhela prisoner. It holds information pertaining to Black Star operations. <<else>>**''Black Star Datachip'': A lost datachip given by a Bhela prisoner. It holds information pertaining to Black Star operations but its contents are pointless to you now.<</if>> <</if>>\ <<if $inv_medkit>>\ *''Med Kit'': A med kit with the basic supplies. It won't deal with the more major injuries but it'll help avoid infection, reduce pain and inflammation. <</if>>\ <<if $inv_5canisters or $inv_5fullcanisters>>\ <<if $inv_5canisters>>*''Canisters'': A stack(5) of polyhydrate canisters that can be used to hold $hound's spit to be later used as toxin bullets. <<else>>*''Full Canisters'':: A stack(5) of canisters filled with $hound's saliva, creating a toxin that can be used as toxin bullets.<</if>> <</if>>\ @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
''Romantic Gender Interest'': $int ''Sexual Attractiveness Levels'': $s_att ''Romance Attractiveness Levels'': <<if $r_att is "no">>non-existent<<elseif $r_att is "yes">>existent<<else>>fluctuating<</if>> <<if $int is not "none">>''Available Romances'': <<if $flirt_zihr>>Zihr,<</if>> <<if $flirt_checl>>Checl,<</if>> <<if $flirt_tser>>Tsering,<</if>> <<if $flirt_sin>>Sin,<</if>> <<if $flirt_minute>>Minute,<</if>> <<if $flirt_seben>>Seben,<</if>> <<if $flirt_memphis>>Āl-Memphis (if correct gender is chosen later)<</if>><</if>> Below are the list of characters that you are able to romance. This is here to better choose a LI but is not needed if you do not care for such things. Along with their names, the following are also introduced in the following order: gender, libido, and romantic attraction. All love interests can be romanced by all genders. ''Tsering Arinaci'': Male | High (Submissive) | Present ''Checl Queziz'': Female | High (Submissive) | Present ''Zihr Highstrider'': Male | Mid (Switch) | Present ''Sin D'Baloren'': Nonbinary/Genderfluid | Nonexistent (Asexual) | Present ''Minute'': Nonbinary/Genderfluid | Low | Discovering ''Seben'': Female | Fluctuating (Switch) | Fluctuating ''Āl-Memphis'': Player-Choice(M/F) | Mid (Dominant) | Present It should also be noted that ''not'' every choice needs to be chosen to become romantically invested in a character. This is especially true in favor of keeping true to your character. For example: a situation may be perfect for a Moran who wishes to tease Zihr and have romantic options to show for it, but may not be opportune for a Moran who is a bit shyer and reserved and there will be no options for them. In situations like this, it is totally fine to not choose a romance option and instead wait for a better representing choice later on. This will very rarely hurt your chances at romancing a character. @@.center; [[Return|$return]] @@
@@.center;<h1>MARKINGS</h1>@@ Markings come in five different colors and each give a different boost to Moran's already pre-existing abilities. This is also the same color as Moran's eyes. These markings line Moran's forehead, running down their cheeks to their jaw and then traveling down their neck and following the curve of their arms where it stops at their elbow.<img src="images/MoranMarking_cakeatoolovesyou.png" width="30%" align ="right"> *''Red'': Health boost +10. Moran's health has actually gotten better due to the experiments, miracles come in the oddest ways. *''Purple'': Natural armor. +10 with no armor and an additional +5 with any kind of armor. The Baron's experiments have drastically changed Moran's skin and its durability, providing an almost armor like effect. *''Gold'': Additional moi̥ ability and granting them more control over their moi̥. *''Green'': Agility +10. Moran's reflexes and movement are abnormal. Their perception and accuracy has also been greatly increased. *''Blue'': Unlocks a stealth trait. Whatever the Baron did has affected Moran's skin, allowing them an easier time in the world of stealth. *''Pink'': Unlocks soul perception. The Baron's experiments have altered the way Moran can view the world. @@.center;<h1>STATS</h1>@@ Below are personality stats and what they mean for Moran as a character. <<link "GUT/MIND/HEART">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Gut, Mind, or Heart (3 Brains) are three stats that follow and govern Moran's attitude and response to certain things. All three can be leveled up without a cap, but it should be noted that certain situations will call for the highest. An example accompanies each explanation. The scenario is that Moran is told to steal an item without any witnesses. They make it to the item, but there is a witness. *''Gut (Instinct)'': Gut focuses on instinct. Gut Morans will find themselves instantly reacting to the changes in their environment by choosing fight, flight, or freeze. Actions and decisions are made purely based off of what will lead to the continuation of life. They usually are the type to act first and think and/or feel later. Example: Moran eliminates the witness. *''Mind (Logic)'': Mind focuses on logic and reasoning. These Morans stop and think things through, allowing them to make the most logical choice. This allows for plans to be formed with both short and long-term ideas in mind. Example: Moran observes and possibly questions the witness to learn who they are and, therefore, decide what they will do about them. *''Heart (Emotion)'': The Heart focuses on emotions and habits. A Moran with high heart usually lets their moral compass and beliefs guide them regarding decisions. There is far more compassion involved or at least compassion towards what Moran believes deeply in. Example: Moran allows the witness to escape. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "MANIPULATION STYLE">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ There are six different manipulation styles that Moran can find them practicing. These styles will change Moran's responses to certain events and how they treat characters. Some characters may appreciate one style over another and may find themselves blind to one more than the others. There will be times where not all styles will be an option, for example you may find a choice where you can only charm or intimidate. Like most stats, this will not be a problem early on. But deeper into the story, not being sufficient in a style will cause issues. *''Coercer'': The art of coercing someone is to use threats, intimidation, and to a certain degree, violence to get someone to do as Moran wants. A Coercer Moran relies on intimidation and brute force to get their way. *''Charmer'': Morans who fall under the Charmer style appeal to their target's personality, pride, and other things to get what they want. They know how to use words to effectively get others to side with them and have a way of swaying the crowd. They may also choose to flirt and arouse their target. *''Silencer'': A Silencer Moran is just that, silent. They refuse to answer and will resort to techniques that involve withholding information and the use of silent treatments. You'll get nothing out of this Moran. *''Broker'': The opposite of Silencer, this Moran is basically an information hub. They gather as much information as they can—albeit not always accurate—to use against others. They dangle the idea of obtaining information to manipulate others into doing what they want. *''Evader'': A Moran that falls into this category doesn't ever quite answer the question or allegation. They change the conversation or always have a reason why they can't answer or won't, sometimes they will literally just walk away. *''Shamer'': Those who shame use emotional manipulation to guilt-trip and target the feelings of those they're manipulating. They cause others to feel guilty and play on sympathy to get what they want. A Moran that has none of these will then have "Mixed." Basically it means that Moran has more than one style that they use. This can be a positive in some cases, not having to rely on one form of manipulation and having a greater arsenal that they're adept in. But it can also lead to trouble when they just continue to anger the wrong people. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "ALIGNMENT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ There are nine possible alignments that Moran can be, and at its basic level, it follows the alignment system set up by the rules of D&D. But again, that is on the basic level due to my dislike of the white/black outlook on matters that are especially grayscale. Below offers more knowledge directly dealing with Moran. *''Lawful vs Chaotic'' (Approach): Lawful Morans mostly just mind their business. They are far more truthful than their counterpart, even if this truth is one that will bring pain. They don't have time to spend on things that do not concern them or things that will slow them down. They are least likely to cause trouble and are far more the type to sit back and observe. Their chaotic counterpart revels in the ability to provide chaos. They administer their own forms of justice and will do what pleases them. This does not mean they do not think their actions through, their actions are just more tailored to their own thoughts on justice and what should fall upon someone they believe is in the wrong. *''Light vs Dark'' (Attitude): At its core, light means Moran is kinder and has a greater respect for others. A Light Moran will still have a habit of putting themselves first when it comes down to it but they are far more likely to think of others. They will not immediately believe that killing is the only option and will tend to look at all possible options before deciding on a suitable course of action. They have a habit of helping others, even when they don't directly mean to and are least likely to ask for something in return for helping another. Dark Morans do not actively pursue death and the act of killing but have no qualms about it. They, at the end of the day, will put themselves first even when they have the option to aid another. They have a callous nature about them, and have far less care for anothers' livelihood and safety. They have a way of not mincing words, unlike their counterparts who have a greater gift at making others feel like they are being shown some kind of care. *''Neutral'': A neutral Moran in terms of Light/Dark is one that simply does what they please. They will put themselves first but they are not entirely without sympathy and will help others, though not without benefit, no matter how small. Killing is not the first option but it's not far down the list either. In respect to Lawful/Chaotic a neutral Moran will also do what they please but is far less likely to cause trouble. They may think about it and even voice their wishes but will not act on those wishes. Justice is whatever they wish it to be but they understand it is not their place to execute it unless their hands are tied. <</popover>>\ <</link>> @@.center;<h1>AICZEOTS</h1>@@ <img src="images/species/aiczeots.png" align="right" width="35%">Your trusty hound is known as a ''Aiczeots'' (ack-ze-oh-tes), which in terran tongue translates to Element Hound. These hounds come in different varieties and like their name suggests, of elements, not all common to terran knowledge. Moran has the choice of four different hounds that can be found in the Outlands area where they meet. <<link "BLOOD">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Blood aiczeots (also known as a Vampire Hound) are known for two things: their bright red slit markings and their ability to smell even the slightest bit of blood from three miles away. Though they have been shown to attack and maim their prey, they typically only go after those wounded, sick, or old and play a waiting game. They are solitary, wishing to stay to themselves in most circumstances. Even when bonded, they are known to still be highly antisocial and may even become agitated when amongst others. They typically watch things from a distance, applying careful logic to situations. *''Appearance'': Shades of red for the main body. Their slits are a bright red. *''Traits'': Solitary, alert, loyal *''Ability'': Blood Tracking. Can either track an individual bleeding or go after a specific scent in someone’s blood as long as they have an open wound. *''Toxin'': The toxin for this breed is made up of the aiczeots' spit and any type of blood. The more blood, the higher the potency. This toxin does little damage and is mostly meant to draw blood so that the aiczeots can track the target later. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "BLIGHT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Blight aiczeots are relatively left alone, not only because of their name but because, out of all the aiczeots, they are the most unpredictable. Blight aiczeots can be found alone or with up to two other aiczeots and have been known to travel alongside others from the same and differing breeds. They are hyper and relatively social creatures with insurmountable amounts of energy. Due to this, they are known to play with their food out of boredom, prolonging a short hunt into a much longer one. When hunting, they will strike their prey and simply wait for them to die from poisoning. If too much carbon dioxide enters their slits, the toxin will begin to produce a smell, nauseating too many besides the vetix race. *''Appearance'': Typically found in shades of brown and tan. Their slits are neon green with a faint trace of a stark yellow. Their tails are thinner than the others and they also possess a longer tongue. *''Traits'': Unpredictable, social, playful *''Ability'': Toxin Maker. Can make a toxin that can be used in certain poisons. *''Toxin'': The toxin is created using the aiczeots' spit mixed with carbon dioxide. When coming in contact with specific objects, it will cause it to melt and corrode and is by far one of the strongest toxins. The blight aiczeots is also able to coat the tip of their tail with it. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "CHAOS">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Chaos aiczeots, similar to their names, have dark slits that seem to be never ending, even some have said that whatever lies underneath, ripples. Though at times they can be found with other aiczeots, they are mostly solitary. They are very observant and prefer to go unnoticed. During the day they have a mild temperament but during the night, are far more active and expressive. They are the most efficient at night where they seem to practically warp the darkness around them to sneak up on their prey. Being able to accurately find, follow, and attack prey with no need to use their tongue to taste the air or ground. This has earned them the nickname the Stalker. *''Appearance'': Main body are dark shades of grey or blue with slits being black. It is rare for their main body to be black, but these aiczeots have a shine to them that give them a sub-breed name of Obsidian aiczeots. *''Traits'': Observant, stealthy, protective *''Ability'': Dark Sense. With focus, can cause their victim to believe they are surrounded by nothing but darkness leaving them vulnerable to attack. *''Toxin'': The toxin is their spit, some soil and dirt, and a certain metal named almoye. It causes hallucinations similar to the aiczeots dark sense ability. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "SPIRIT">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Spirit aiczeots, also known as energy aiczeots to some, are highly social creatures to other aiczeots but dislike being around others not of their species. A strong connection is formed with those they bond with, but they will hiss and warn others to stay away. They have purple slits that glow when their toxin levels are high and will darken considerably when low. When spirit aiczeots hunt, they will seem to meditate first and choose a target, mainly those sick, injured, or young or old. Once locking on, they follow the target's emotional trail and, once upon them, will manipulate emotions to keep them calm and unaware of the danger, then leaping upon them later. *''Appearance'': Their main body are differing shades of white and grey, this can also be a metallic/glossy kind of silver. Their slits are purple. They have a long tail that starts off thick at the base and gradually gets thinner. They are one of the only species whose slits will dim due to toxin levels. *''Traits'': Temperamental, intelligent, curious *''Ability'': Soul Awareness. Can sense strong emotions coming from individuals and when making eye contact, can manipulate those emotions to some degree. *''Toxin'': Created by using its spit and mixing it with cosmic dust or solars, this works as a toxin to cripple targets but also increases their ability awareness. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "EARTH">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Earth, or sometimes known as Sand, aiczeots are stubborn as the ground that they manipulate. They are quite lazy, content to lie around and sleep for most of the day before rising to go hunting. Usually, these aiczeots will not wander far from their dens that they sometimes share with other breeds and creatures. They are the most social and the least aggressive, though this should not, by any means, encourage one to approach them. They will still defend their territory, and though not their usual method, easy prey is still food. *''Appearance'': They are always a shade of brown though that can range from sandy brown to dark brown to a taupe tone. Their slits are a burnt orange and they possess red and tan flecks around their shoulder spines and on their rump and muzzle. They possess the shortest tail, with it actually being bobbed. Their claws are also different, thicker and curved to allow faster digging. *''Traits'': Stubborn, social, lazy *''Ability'': Earthquake. Though not a true earthquake, they can cause specific areas of ground to shake and tremble, and with enough focus even give way or crack. This does not work on all kinds of ground. *''Toxin'': Created by using its spit and mixing it with any kind of dirt or mud. A sticky, sludge-like mixture is created that will stick to skin and surfaces. If another element is added it will also add a debilitating effect (e.g. mixing in acid will allow the sludge to deliver acid burn or heating the sludge will allow it to slowly burn whatever it lands on.) <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "ELECTRIC">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ It is believed that there is a 'mind sickness' with Electric aiczeots. The creatures seem to thrive on the suffering of others and, with psychopathic tendencies, will go out of their way to make sure those needs are met. They have been seen playing with their food before finally devouring it, still kicking and thrashing. They are found in packs that can range from three to six but stick to their breed, as many of the other species have low tolerances for the ways of these aiczeots. The few vetix that do choose to imprint on them state that they always need some kind of stimulation. *''Appearance'': They can come in two different main colors, yellow or a maroon purple. Their slits are a bright golden tone. They have medium-length tails and their legs have a golden discoloration. *''Traits'': Sadistic, impatient, quick-tempered *''Ability'': Electric Shock. The aiczeots can channel an electric current out of their body and into a target, stunning them. If enough focus is had, they can also kill. *''Toxin'': Similar to the fire aiczeots, Electric ones do not create a helpful toxin. <</popover>>\ <</link>> @@.center;<h1>CLASS, WEAPONS, & ARMOR</h1>@@ There are four classes that Moran can choose from. Alongside that are three different armor classes and five different weapon types that can become available or non-available depending on the class. As the reader progress they can unlock mods and certain skills that will open up different sub-classes, providing more customization. <<link "CLASS">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ ''Snipers'' also known as a scout. Snipers are tasked with getting a lay of the land and relaying vital information to the others. *Armor: Light *Weapons: Sniper ''Specialists'' are the main fighters of a group, charging in and taking control of the situation and wasting no time to engage. *Armor: Medium or Heavy *Weapons: Rifle, Plasma, and Shotgun ''Hunters'' stay along the outskirts of the fight, finishing people off and giving relief to the specialist. They are typically the fastest and least likely to be seen. *Armor: Light or Medium *Weapons: All weapons available besides sniper. *Requirement: Agility must be at least 10 or have the blue marking. *Notes: Default hunter is Checl or Zihr. ''Engineers'' also known as infiltrator. Engineers are in charge of the tech in the field, providing backup as well as aiding in hacking all that they can. *Armor: Medium *Weapons: All weapons available besides sniper. *Requirement: Technology must be at least 10. *Notes: Default hunter is Ne0. <</popover>>\ <</link>> | <<link "MODS">> <<popover 'opaque'>>\ Edit <</popover>>\ <</link>> [[Return|$return]]
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "v">><</nobr>> You have a vagina.
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "p">><</nobr>> You have a penis.
<<nobr>><<set $sex to "na">><</nobr>> You have chosen not to disclose this information.
<<nobr>><<set $chest to "p">><</nobr>> You have breasts.
<<nobr>><<set $chest to "np">><</nobr>> You do not have breasts.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "female">><</nobr>> Female.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "male">><</nobr>> Male.
<<nobr>><<set $gender to "nonbinary">><</nobr>> Nonbinary.
<<nobr>>\<input type="checkbox" id="fullscreen"><label for="fullscreen" class="gofullscreen"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'FullScreenGo_white.png'" alt="Go full screen" title="Go full screen" class="fullscreenImg"></label><label for="fullscreen" class="exitfullscreen"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'FullScreenExit_white.png'" alt="Exit full screen" title="Exit full screen" class="fullscreenImg"></label> <a data-passage="Compendium"><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'Codex.png'" alt="Settings" title="Compendium" class="fullscreenImg" style="top: 75px; left: 250px;"></a><</nobr>>\
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©2025 Bum Studios LLC ~~BETA 08.26.26 //Sea of Stars// contains themes and content including, but not limited to: violence, strong language, and sexual content that includes xenophilia. This story is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.~~
[[🕮 Compendium|Compendium]] [[✰ Credits|Credits]]
/* Bio & Personality */ <<set $name to "Unknown">> <<set $gender to "Not Chosen"; $trans to false; $int to "unknown"; $s_att to "unknown"; $r_att to "unknown">> <<set $health to 100>> /*Once Moran reaches 10 they will be unable to do anything. If it falls to 0 then death and restart needed.*/ <<set $solars to 0>> <<set $markings to "unknown"; $hair to "unknown"; $color to "unknown"; $length to "unknown"; $beard to "unknown"; $scars to "unknown"; $tattoo to "unknown">> <<set $humor to 50; $view to 50; $open to 50; $approach to 50; $attitude to 50; $emotion to 50; $mind to 0; $gut to 0; $heart to 0; $coercer to 0; $charmer to 0; $silencer to 0; $broker to 0; $evader to 0; $shamer to 0>> <<set $religious to "notchosen">> /* Hound Info */ <<set $hound to "unknown"; $breed to "unknown">> /* Skills/Talents/Hobbies */ <<set $combat to 0; $agility to 0; $medical to 0; $tech to 0; $weapons to 0; $tact to 0; $smarts to 0>> <<set $class to "not chosen">> <<set $leader to "not chosen">> <<set $idle to "nothing"; $souvenir to "nothing">> <<set $hobby_stories to false>> /* Hidden Traits */ <<set $stealth to false; $perception to false>> /* Relations */ <<set $dinami to 50; $nightwalkers to 50; $team to 0>> <<set $unlock_zihr to false; $unlock_checl to false; $unlock_ne0 to false; $unlock_sin to false; $unlock_minute to false; $unlock_seben to false; $unlock_dereje to false; $unlock_jakari to false>> <<set $flirt_tser to false; $flirt_zihr to false; $flirt_checl to false; $flirt_sin to false; $flirt_minute to false; $flirt_seben to false; $flirt_memphis to false>> /* Disposition */ <<set $tser to 50; $zihr to 50; $checl to 50; $sin to 50; $minute to 50; $seben to 50; $ne0 to 50; $memphis to 50>> /* Romance */ <<set $tserRoPo to 0; $tserRo to 50; $zihrRoPo to 0; $zihrRo to 50; $checlRoPo to 0; $checlRo to 50; $sinRoPo to 0; $sinRo to 50; $minuteRoPo to 0; $minuteRo to 50; $sebenRoPo to 0; $sebenRo to 50; $memphisRoPo to 0; $memphisRo to 50>> /* Loyalty */ <<set $tserLo to 2; $zihrLo to 0; $checlLo to 5; $ne0Lo to 5; $sinLo to 0; $minuteLo to 0; $sebenLo to 0; $memphisLo to 0>> /* Traits and Dynamics */ /* Moran's Traits */ <<set $moran_xeno to false>> /* Past Approach and Attitude */ <<set $pastAttitude to 50; $pastApproach to 50>> /* Dante's Traits */ <<set $dante_brave to true; $dante_rebel to true>> /* Break Ups */ <<set $prebreakup_checl to 0; $prebreakup_zihr to 0; $prebreakup_sin to false>> <<set $checl_touch to true; $ne0_touch to false; $checlne0 to 0>> <<set $mentor to "not known">> /* INVENTORY */ /* Loadout Names */ <<set $ch_loadout to 0>> /* Guns */ <<set $w_primary to "Not Chosen"; $w_secondary to "Not Chosen">> /* Armor */ <<set $armor_type to "Not Chosen">> /* Mods */ <<set $mod_shield to false; $mod_health to false; $mod_cloak to false; $mod_hack to false; $mod_ammo to false>> <<set $mod_shield_rad to false; $mod_banshee to false; $mod_sealant to false>> /* Other */ <<set $inv_bsdatachip to false; $inv_bsdatachip_unlocked to false; $inv_bsdatachip_unused to false; $inv_canisters to false; $inv_fullcanisters to false; $inv_medkit to false>> /* Misc */ /* From 1st Flashback */ <<set $promise to false>> /* Tsering on Cargo Plane Incident */ <<set $shotme to false>> /* Baits */ <<set $ticketforone to false; $scrimmagebait to false; $nlulsh to false>> /* Checl's Presence */ <<set $cp to false; $checl_whereabouts to "present">> <<set $tatNe0 to false>> /* Camila's Nickname */ <<set $camilaNN to "not chosen">> /* Bounty Statuses */ <<set $bounty1 to "alive">> /* Zihr Know His Tells */ <<set $zihrtells to false>> /* Chapter Nine Bedroom */ <<set $ch9bedscene to "not chosen">> /* Shaky Zihr Relationship */ <<set $shakyzihr to false>> /* Injuries */ <<set $injury_ankle to false; $injury_leg to false; $injury_arm to false>> /* Music */ <<cacheaudio "prologue1" "audio/stuck_in_the_shaft.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "prologue2" "audio/lorem_ipsum.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "prologue3" "audio/discovery.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "sad_desert" "audio/sad_deserted.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "tension" "audio/ambient_tension.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "invasion" "audio/the_invasion.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience1" "audio/sci-fi_ambient.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience2" "audio/sky_meditation.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience3" "audio/lost_in_nowhere.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience4" "audio/cold_atmospheric.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience5" "audio/space_piano_scifi.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience6" "audio/ambient_slow_and_mysterious.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience7" "audio/universe.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience8" "audio/a_dark_criminal_conspiracy.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "ambience9" "audio/equilibrium.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "flashback1" "audio/dark_skies_above.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "flashback2" "audio/bending_gravity.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "peaceful" "audio/peaceful_background.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action1" "audio/creepy_night.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action2" "audio/release_me.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action3" "audio/horrible_breath.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "action4" "audio/dramatic_life.mp3">> <<createplaylist "prologue">> <<track "prologue1" volume 0.30>> <<track "prologue2" volume 0.30>> <<track "prologue3" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "ambient">> <<track "ambience1" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience2" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience3" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience4" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience5" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience6" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience7" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience8" volume 0.30>> <<track "ambience9" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "flashback">> <<track "flashback1" volume 0.30>> <<track "flashback2" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> <<createplaylist "action">> <<track "action1" volume 0.30>> <<track "action2" volume 0.30>> <<track "action3" volume 0.30>> <<track "action4" volume 0.30>> <</createplaylist>> /* Story starts here */
<img src="images/title.png" width="50%" align ="center"> @@.center; //The day they came was the day my life ended. I didn't know it at the time, nor did I know it a year or even a decade later. You envision your life going in a hundred different ways, but somehow, it's always the one way you never expected. And that's the one that gets you. I've learned a lot of lessons over time. Become lost in a cycle brought on by own hand. If I had just done this one thing or changed how I came at a problem, maybe it'd all be different. Maybe they would all still be here. Or maybe everything would've gone the exact same way. But it's too late now. I started something that I'm determined to see through to the end. I won't stop. I can't. This isn't only for me … or maybe it is. I don't know, and I find it hard to care. There are questions that need answers and lives that need avenging. This story, it has a beginning. One that I don't like thinking much about. It all feels like an excuse. But I've learned that sometimes you have to go back to finally go forward. So, this is where it starts.// <<message 'Click for Features'>>\ * Create your unique character by choosing sex, pronouns, orientation, appearance, and different attractiveness levels. * Specific traits that will change how you react to others. As well as traits that will change how specific characters see you. * Choose between 7 romances: two females, two males, two non-binary characters, and one gender-choiced character. * Four different classes, along with an assortment of armor and weapons, each with its own benefits. * Determine for yourself how your path branches. Will you go down the path that leads to your own redemption and growth or stay the course? * Relive your past and how it not only led you here but how it will impact your future. <</message>>\ <hr> <table class="center"> <tr> <th><a data-passage="Credits"><img src="images/credits.png" alt="Credits"/></a></th> </tr> <tr> <th><a data-passage="Opening"><img src="images/play.png" alt="Begin Story"/></a></th> </tr> </table> @@
<<playlist "prologue" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<nobr>>\ <<set $ch_loadout to 0>> <</nobr>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Don't go!" "Take your brother. All of you head to the basement, lock the door, and don't come out until you hear me say it's safe." "Dimitri, stop! Just come on." "I'll be right back, I promise you."</span> <img src="images/divider.png" style="float:center"> A collection of scenes that haven't been entirely constructed in the first place slowly begins to fade, leaving behind a distraught psyche, a shivering body, and a pounding heart. As the darkness floods away, it is replaced by a hand on your shoulder. Your awareness sharpens, and as you gaze around the transport plane's large area, you again remember where you are and why. Next, your eyes focus on the figure standing directly in front of you. Words make their way out of his mouth, but the ones you hear fail to match his movement. A sudden feeling of distress overcomes you, one that you have to quickly hamper as your understanding of everything settles back onto what once was a frazzled mind. //Get it together,// you think to yourself; //it's the chip's translator. Just the chip translator.// The latter part of your statement is one you must repeat over and over to further separate you from the world you once were in. Yet it feels like it does so little. Ever since you stepped on this plane, you've been battling a headache. Hearing things that aren't there, reacting to ethereal shadows that dart along the walls, and now this. This is the absolute last thing you want and/or need. It is all so strange, seeing as you had been feeling fine this morning. <a data-passage="0.0"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Stop looking at me like that, Tsering," you grumble, not even having to look up to know that your companion's gaze is still placed upon you. "Bad dream?" he questions. You throw a glance his way, using this moment to further ground yourself by focusing on the alien's appearance. Despite being one of the main species of the galaxy, there is still so little you know about his kind, <<link 'vetix'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/vetix.png" align="right" width="30%">The third most widespread species would be the vetix and, similar to terrans, have races within their species: the Voth, Askax, and Vranok. War and religious infighting plagues their history and has led to the destruction of their planet. Vetix generally stand around 5'8 (172.72 cm) to 6'6 feet (198.12 cm) and are all quite muscular. Their bodies are made up of soft reptilian-like scales and far more rigid chitin material covering their sides, back, and the upper part of their heads. Whereas their body can exist in orange, tan, brown, and black colors, their chitin markings are always dark grey, brown, or black. These markings have three different styles, which differ depending on one's race. They are primarily a monomorphic species with only head crests giving any visible sign of a difference between genders. Females' head crests lie closer to the cranium and do not travel as far as males'. They have four fingers with sharp claws and two toes at the end of each foot. Their legs have a slight digitigrade appearance, and on the back of each calf are two upturned, thick spikes. Similar curved spikes can also be found on their elbows and exist in threes. They have three slits on both sides of the neck that help with temperature regulation. Though their other senses are nowhere near lacking, the one sense that vetix are best known for is their sight. They have exceptional sight that becomes even more so in the absence of light. While many species portray their emotions differently, vetix mainly shows theirs through their eyes. When portraying moods that the individual perceives as negative, their eye color will lose saturation, while positive emotions will find the saturation growing. All races can share memories through their eyes. Intentions and prolonged eye contact are required for the action to occur.<</dialog>><</link>>. Asking is like asking some random person of your own kind, <<link 'terran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>>Terrans are a sentient, bipedal mammal race originating from the planet Terra Genesis in the Terra system. Thanks to their high fertility and quick breeding capabilities, they soon became one of the dominant species (rivaled only by the trarkrans and raza). This earned them the ire of the galaxy, but at the same time became highly favored for many tasks due to their high adaptability. Whereas other species could not do various jobs due to several things, terrans proved fairly adaptable and hardy enough to exist throughout multiple places in the galaxy. A terran's base senses are average, which is neither good nor bad compared to other species that find one sense surpassing others or all senses being sub-par at best. A terran's anatomy allows them to be fairly flexible, built mainly for endurance. Once struck by cosmicium, the terran adaptability trait evolved. Once able to simply adapt to specific circumstances, reasonable temperatures, and mild changes in the environment. Being touched by cosmicium saw their adaptability occurring at a far faster pace. Though there is still a limit to how the body will change, a terran's body and senses will evolve to better accommodate their surroundings. Hybrids, commonly known as tetigit terran^^2^^, see a greater range of senses and adaptability. They also possess a range of psionic powers that range from diminutive to immense. ^^2^^~~Note that only terrans from Genesis (also known as Genisers) have this form of adaptability due to Primers having left the planet before the second cosmicium event.~~<</dialog>><</link>>, some deep and biological question. Pointless. And you leave the conversation with less information than you had going in. So you focus on what you can see and already know. Vetix are bipedal, like most of the sentient aliens you know. Four fingers with claws on the tip, and though you don't glance down, you know he has two toes with even longer claws. A thick neck that holds a face consisting of four eyes, a relatively flat and small nose, no lips but something that slightly resemble insect mandibles, and a head crest with two down-turned horns and no hair. Though, the more you think about that specific characteristic, the more you realize that no other alien species you know, save for a handful, has hair. His skin tone is a typical brown and his dark grey chitin markings appear in a tiger design against his skin. You recall that the markings are helpful in specifying his race, but your mind is not allowing you to delve so deep. "Or great dream?" You blink as his words once again bring you back to the now. A second later, you glance back up at him. "Judging by how you're staring at me." [[“You remind me there are worse things.”|0.1RemindMe][$humor +=10; $tser +=5]] <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Dream you is better.”|0.1DreamYou][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5; $humor +=10]]<<else>>[[“Dream you is better.”|0.1DreamYou][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5; $humor +=10]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“In your dreams.”|0.1DreamOn][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5; $humor -=10]]<<else>>[[“In your dreams.”|0.1DreamOn][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5; $humor -=10]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Who could blame me?”|0.1BlameMe][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5; $open +=10]]<<else>>[[“Who could blame me?”|0.1BlameMe][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5; $open +=10]]<</if>> [[“It had nothing to do with you.”|0.1NothingToDoWithYou][$tser -=5; $emotional -=10]] [[“Sorry, what were you saying?”|0.1SorryWhat][$tser +=5; $emotional +=10]] [[Ignore that.|0.1][$humor -=10; $tser -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "Your appearance is grounding," you tell him, keeping your face as neutral as possible. "It reminds me that there are worse things one can be faced with." "Like an overly beautiful appearance and a radiant personality?" "Poor hygiene. Bad manners. Talkative and egotistical. A weird twitch in the left upper eye as well." Tsering snorts out a laugh. "Go fuck yourself." <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> You take a moment to look him over again before smirking. "Dream you was far better. Less clothes, and he was practically a mute." Tsering leans forward, his eyes glimmering furiously as their saturation increases. "If you want me quiet, all you have to do is ask." "Or command." "Or command," he repeats, the corners of his mouth rising even more. He doesn't make it hard for you to figure out what is now on his mind. <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> A chuckle escapes as you continue to focus on your breathing. "In your dreams, Tsering." "I'm sure my dreams differ greatly from yours," he grins. "Is this another vetix versus terran argument?" "No," he says, leaning closer, desire plaguing his color-shifting eyes. "This is a who wants who more argument." He straightens. "But you're not ready for that conversation. And I'm more concerned about your state of mind now." You wonder how 'concerned' he would be if you continued this line of flirting. <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> You hum, closing your eyes as you focus on relaxing your breathing. "Who could blame me? You are handsome." You don't even have to open your eyes to picture Tsering's face, how light his eyes have grown, the slight rise and fall in his mandibles as he tries to temper his grin, and how he will futilely attempt to come up with a teasing response, ineluctably failing. "Ahh," he growls, a low rumble that sounds like it originates from his neck but could be farther down. Vetix anatomy is not something you have done extensive research on. "Stop teasing me." "Best response you could come up with?" you hum as you feel the air move. Opening your eyes, you see that Tsering is now before you, leaning in with desire plaguing his color-shifting eyes. "My desired response isn't exactly verbal." You smile but push him no further, despite thinking about how great a distraction it would be. <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Numb ++</span><</if>> "It had nothing to do with you," you inform, deciding to provide a simple answer. "Try not to hurt my feelings," he snorts, though the sound has constantly reminded you more of a growl. <<include "0.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Warm ++</span><</if>> You shake your head and clear your throat. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Tsering squints at you in what you can only assume must be his sense of worry. "Nothing important. Are you sure you're alright?" <<include "0.1">>
Resting your head on the back of your seat, you inhale a long and deep breath, slowly releasing it while you remind yourself of the mission. //Take the package. Land. Secure the area. Exchange it. Leave.// Simple and to the point. Probably one of your easiest assignments to date. "So are you going to tell me what's up? Or do I have to continue guessing?" [[Lie.|0.1Lie][$open -=5]] [[Be honest … kinda.|0.1Vague]] [[Tell him about the flashback.|0.1Honest][$open +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> "Everything's fine." You're about to add more to your lie. An excuse or something similar that you believe will cause him to believe you just a tad more, but you abandon such a thought. Going instead, with a cold and severe tone. "Focus on the mission." You don't care if he believes you, just that he doesn't continue pestering you on the cause. And true to his ways, he relents. <<include "0.2">>
"Just a mild headache," you tell him. "I'll be fine." "You terrans and your headaches. Odd little creatures." He says the latter in a mockingly formal tone before snickering. You throw him a confused glare. "I could say the same about you vetix and your crest pains." "That's a much more normal ailment." "I can ask any other alien, and they'll be just as bothered as me." "Perhaps," he hums, though the sound is never like the humming you're used to. It sounds like it originates further back in the throat and, instead of reverberating, sounds like it's being swallowed. Like a predator whose patience towards their unamusing prey is meeting an end. <<include "0.2">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> "I …" you take a moment to gather your thoughts without reliving them. "I had a flashback." "Of the racks?" he questions, switching his position to favor his left leg. "No, no, it-" You wipe at an oily brow. "It was about my family. About //that// day." "Oh," he gazes at you questionably, perhaps just as confused as you. "What caused that?" "I wish I knew. I don't remember the last time I vividly thought about them like that." He frowns but says nothing more, an action you silently thank him for. You're on a mission. The last thing you need is a distraction, especially one of this caliber. <<include "0.2">>
To further help distance yourself from the memories, you ask, "How far from the drop-off. Do you know?" "Thirty pulses or so. Shouldn't be too long now." "Where's everyone else?" <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ He snorts. "I thought you'd know. They were all gone when I came back from talking with the pilots. But I'm not complaining." Yet again his purple eyes take on a magenta hue, which mostly just means that the saturation increases even more. He leans in, trapping you in the seat while he towers over. "I can think of a few things to keep both of us occupied while we wait." <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Oh, this I gotta hear.”|0.2GottaHear][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5]]<<else>>[[“Oh, this I gotta hear.”|0.2GottaHear][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo +=5]]<</if>> <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Bet mine are more interesting.”|0.2MineWin][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5]]<<else>>[[“Bet mine are more interesting.”|0.2MineWin][$tserRoPo +=1; $tserRo -=5]]<</if>> [[Motion for him to step back.|0.2StepBack]] <<else>>\ He snorts. "I thought you'd know. They were all gone when I came back from talking with the pilots. You didn't hear them leave?" You shake your head and rub at your eye incessantly as if it will help erase the nightmare that lingers on the edge of your mind. The intercom hums to life. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You exchange a baffled look with Tsering and grab your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you before moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
"Oh, do you?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side as you continue. "Please do share." "Why share when I can just show?" he questions, eliminating the distance between you just as the intercom hums to life. He hangs his head at the interruption, mumbling a few curse words, all of which do not rightfully translate over. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comms room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You give Tsering a playful and teasing look before grabbing your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you and moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"Oh," you smirk, "I bet you mine are more interesting." "Only one way to figure that out," he speaks and you lean in closer to whisper. "And what does the winner get?" Tsering isn't even able to open his mouth before the intercom hums to life. His eyes desaturate, now appearing a dark purple as you tilt your head back to laugh. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You give Tsering a playful and teasing look before grabbing your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you and moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
You motion for him to back up and though he does so, a look of confusion causes his eyes to lose their previous saturation. You shake your head and rub at your eye incessantly as if it will help erase the nightmare that lingers on the edge of your mind. The intercom hums to life. "Arinasai. Moran. You are needed in the comm room. Urgent message from the Dinami." You exchange a baffled look with Tsering and grab your gun belt from the vacant seat beside you before moving to answer the call. <a data-passage="0.2.1"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The cold metallic walls seem to harbor some secret that it hisses obscurely to you as you pass. There is nothing but the echo of your boots, the soft purr of the engine, and those hisses. Every corner has you stiffening, your hand reflexively reaching for your gun before you chide yourself. Those flashbacks are just flashbacks. The shadows can't harm you. And yet that doesn't put you at ease. You look like a terrified fledgling up against Tsering's much calmer mien, appearing at home amongst the near silence of the ship. Silence. Your steps slow as you gaze in front and behind you, searching for something you know will not show. There are at least a dozen other mercenaries on this plane. So, where are they? It's not a small transport, but you should have at least seen someone by now. With less than thirty minutes to go, all of you should have met up in the cargo hold to prepare for a final debriefing and departure. Perhaps they had all been called to the comm room as well? But if that was true, why did the pilot specifically mention the two of you? Each time your mind comes up with a reason, you shoot it down, providing a valid explanation until you're left with one thought. Something is wrong. <a data-passage="0.2.2"><img class="continue" src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Your hand wanders to your gun, and this time it stays there. The coupling smells of sulfur, iron, and a scent you cannot name but has herbal properties, hits your nose, and you pause, sniffing at the air. "Do you smell that?" "No," Tsering sighs. "Your nose is better than mine, remember?" You ignore the irritated ring that accompanies his words and breathe in for a second time. "Blood," you mumble. Tsering's entire demeanor changes as he unholsters his pistol and creeps forward. "A silencer?" you ask as you walk beside him. "When did you start carrying one of those?" "I always carry one. Just don't use it unless we get put on an assignment like this." His eyes darken. "You know this. You sure you're good?" You grimace at the question and refuse to answer. The two of you turn the corner to see that your nose did not lead you astray. A cluster of bodies lay before you. Some you recognize as members of the Dinami, but most are freelance mercenaries that the Dinami had decided to bring on for reasons you aren't sure of. Perhaps to avoid the need to give them any additional information besides 'shoot whatever we tell you.' According to intelligence, this entire drop-off is a 'need to know.' Go to Taouron, drop off the package, and then leave. The container was so carefully put together that not even those who arranged it knew the true extent of what rested inside. Earlier, you heard a few of the mercs making bets on what they believed. Ideas ranging from guns to tech to poison were all thrown into the pool. You wouldn't be shocked if the box holds money or even if it is empty. Rendering this entire assignment nothing more than a test orchestrated by the Dinami. [[Pointless. If so then why are you here?|0.2Pro][$dinami +=10]] [[It wouldn't shock you at all.|0.2Anti][$dinami -=10]]
You already proved yourself when you made it off the racks. And to further that point, you had been put on three loyalty missions that you passed with flying colors. There is no reason to doubt you anymore, and you haven't given them a reason either. Your eyes wander over to Tsering. Though he's been with the organization longer than you, he didn't hide his disdain. This could be for him, but why you would be here made little sense. The two of you aren't in the same fields, and this particular assignment is more connate to that of a smuggler, something neither of you are. The organization has so many facets that the mercenary label is simply the only legal one to use. Only a few of you are an actual paradigm of a merc. The rest of you hold labels more akin to hit-person, spy, or smuggler. You are the former, while Tsering is closer to the profession of a con artist. Perhaps that is why you have always had difficulty in figuring him out. What is real and what isn't is a question you've asked yourself about him too many times. But the loyalty mission angle still provides far more questions than answers. So many that it seems pointless to further think about it. They don't conduct loyalty missions like this, and the numerous bodies lying before you advance that point. <<include "0.3">>
No one, not even you or Tsering, would be shocked if this all did boil down to the Dinami testing your loyalty. They tortured you in every means of the word, and once broken, they placed you back on the rack and furthered their work. Long before this, you believed you knew what pain was. You weren't exactly wrong, but learning that there were different kinds of pain you have yet to experience dampened an already scant soul. You once thought it was pure luck that helped you get this far. Soon after, you realized it was never fate looking down upon you with care, you weren't that lucky. You were more like the universe's plaything. When fate or whatever divine, unholy providence wished to rest its gaze on you, it was simply because it was bored and chose you as its quarry. Your eyes wander over to Tsering. Though he's been with the organization longer than you, he didn't hide his disdain for it either. You can just as easily see this being for him. But you also have doubts. They don't conduct loyalty missions like this, and the numerous bodies lying before you advance that point. <<include "0.3">>
The Dinami has as many traitors and enemies within its ranks as outside. Only a few operators knew about this, and since the entire group isn't Dinami exclusively, it narrows down the list to at least six people, some of whom may be dead. But making such an accusation is unwise, not until you get enough evidence to back it up. Otherwise, you'll be the main suspect. "Comms are down," Tsering tells you, pressing a few buttons at the large panel resting against the wall. He mumbles something unintelligible when only red lights flash back at him. "The chip's channels included." [[“Have you tried smacking it?”|0.3SmackIt][$humor +=5]] [[“Let me see.”|0.3LetMeSee][$tech +=10]] [[Attempt to use your chip's comms.|0.3ChipComm][$humor -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Comic ++</span><</if>> "You've tried smacking it a few times, right?" "Why is that always your suggestion? This is not your primitive terran technology." "You say that, but I smacked the comm panel back at the safe house, and it stopped flickering." He turns to say more when the sound of something jostling against metal grabs both of your attention. You shift your focus to a nearby closet, and you both exchange nods at the silent and decisive plan. You then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Technology ++</span><</if>> "Let me see," you take only a step before the sound of something jostling against metal grabs both of your attention. You shift your focus to a nearby closet, and you both exchange nods at the silent and decisive plan. You then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Sober ++</span><</if>> You bring up your chip's hud, about to access the communicator to see for yourself. "Yes, because your chip will show you something different," Tsering sighs. You are unable to respond due to the sound of something jostling against metal. The sound originates from a nearby closet, and after sparing one look at Tsering, you then approach with pistols at the ready. <<include "0.3.1">>
Tsering opens it, moving to the side for a better view just as a shaph screams. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" they yell, throwing their hands up as they gaze between you and Tsering. <span class="chip">>Species: <<link 'Shaph'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/shaph.png" align="right" width="30%">The shaph is a bipedal creature that possess four arms of the same length with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers holding an opposable thumb. They are flat-footed with feet possessing four toes. They are a muscular and bulky species, weighing anything between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg) though this number has been known to be higher. Their skin is made up of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood and has a texture similar to the plants from their homeworld, Stronoe. A Shaph's skin is smooth but thick, providing natural armor but also skin that takes an exceedingly long time to adjust to new temperatures. The ideal temperature is between 70°F/20°C and 80°F/26°C. An individual can live in temperatures higher and lower but will find themselves extremely uncomfortable and find it hard to function for a few months until they are adjusted. The wider the gap, the longer it will take for a Shaph to adjust. Due to this, most Shaphs will stay in familiar biomes or will need to wear protective suits to combat the temperature shifts. A Shaph's blood is black, similar in color to the nitrogen oxide gas that they can naturally emit. As many species see and experience it, the shaph do not have binary sexes but trinary. All three sexes are needed to properly "give birth." Each shaph is born with one of three different facial markings which act as the only visual identifier to an individual's sex. Shaph is a genderless race and do not recognize the use of pronouns. Instead they simply use their names.<</dialog>><</link>> Origins: Gnodanides Usually standing anywhere from 5'7" to 6'2" (170.18 to 187.96 cm) and weighing between 200 to 300 pounds (90 to 136kg), most of their weight is attributed to well-defined muscles. They possess four arms with four thick fingers on each, one of those fingers being an opposable thumb. Their skin is made of coarse material that many compare to the feeling of wood. The shaph is one of the few races with no external characteristic differences between the three sexes that make up the species. The species possess the ability to enter a camouflage mode, similar to that of a chameleon. While in this mode, they secrete a toxic thin smoke, lethal to some species. Though not harmful to the shaph -</span> You swat the information away with a sigh. "Why am I suddenly getting readouts on shit I didn't ask for and I already know?" "Software update? A glitch? System malfunction? Take your pick," Tsering answers, lowering his gun as he leans a shoulder against the wall. "Matches how the rest of this day is going so far. And you." He points to the shaph, examining them with a look of aversion. "You're either incredibly stupid or one of the smartest people I've ever met." Realizing that neither of you will kill them, the shaph lowers their arms and awkwardly leaves the closet. "Because I hid?" "No," you sigh, looking them over, "because if you're the killer, then hiding was a strategic move. Presenting yourself as innocent to whoever came looking." "I assure you, I //am// innocent." "We know," Tsering answers, nodding toward the deceased. "Whoever shot them did so at a significantly close range. If you were the culprit, you'd have some blood on you somewhere." [[“Could have cleaned it up.”|0.3CleanedUp][$mind +=3; $attitude -=3]] [[“Are you alright?”|0.3AreYouAlright][$heart +=3; $attitude +=5]] [[“That scream was pretty convincing.”|0.3ThatScream][$gut +=3; $attitude +=3]] [[Examine the bodies.|0.3Examine][$medical +=10; $attitude -=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> You look at the shaph in an attempt to find even a dash of discoloration against their sandy skin. "Or, they could have just cleaned it up before we got here. We don't know how long these bodies have been lying here." "We have a rough estimate," Tsering points out, not bothering to face you as he explains. "You were already in your own mind when I went to the pilots for an ETA, and everyone was still in the hold with you. That took about five pulses, so roughly that puts these bodies at least fifteen pulses old." "Or you can just ask me." The two of you gaze over at the wide-eyed alien, but you say nothing in response. You approach Tsering who wears a deep frown, his purple eyes losing saturation as he studies the numerous bodies before you. Your eyes narrow as you make your deduction. "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> You look the shaph over, noticing how visibly shaken they are. Dropping to one knee to be on their level, you ask, "Are you alright?" "Am I bleeding?" they question, eyes wide as they look themselves over. "No, you're just visibly shaken." "Skittish for a freelancer," Tsering says, gazing the shaph over in antipathy. "You go from speaking to comrades to getting shot at," you state as you get to your feet. "Are you telling me you wouldn't?" "Occupational hazard," he mumbles. You follow his gaze to the bodies decorating the proximity, and your eyes narrow as you make your deduction. "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> "Not to mention that scream of yours was fairly convincing as well. Judging by how you carry yourself, you wouldn't have lasted a week on the rack, meaning you're not Dinami." "Observant<<if $tserRoPo >=1>> and attractive<</if>>," Tsering compliments, clicking his tongue. "But doesn't get us anywhere. Not all the freelancers may be as skittish as them." "True. But at least I know I don't have to keep looking over my shoulder at this one." You approach Tsering who wears a deep frown, his purple eyes losing saturation as he studies the numerous bodies before you. Your eyes narrow as you make your deduction. "I count eight. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Medical ++ | Dark ++</span><</if>> Bending down near the nearest body, you examine them and find only one entry wound. Checking another, you find a similar scenario. "Eight bodies. Whoever did this is precise and skilled." "So one of the actual Dinami?" Jabbing your finger in the direction of the shaph, you ask, "you think someone like them could pull this off?" "Not them exactly. But we don't know what these other freelancers can do. For all we know that's what this entire assignment is for, weeding out the potential." You sigh, your eyes going to the bodies as you make your deduction. "Eight bodies. With us, that's eleven. Two pilots for thirteen. Meaning there's seven unaccounted for." <<include "0.4">>
"What makes us think the killer isn't one of these bodies?" Tsering asks after a few seconds of contemplation. There is no reason for you not to believe such a thing, especially with how the bodies are arranged. It would take someone reasonably skilled to shoot these bodies and then get away. But if they were Dinami, it was more than a slight possibility. "Nothing," you answer. "It could very well be true. But better to stay alert." "What should we do?" the shaph questions, still panicking. The gun rattling in their grasp constantly bumps against a metal pillar, creating an irritable noise worthy of punching someone. They behave as if they have never been in a high-stressed environment before. "Don't," Tsering mumbles, glancing at you before directing his head towards the mercenary. "We might need them as bait." [[“Warn the pilots.”|0.4Mind][$mind +=5]] [[“Get to the cargo hold.”|0.4Gut][$gut +=5]] [[“We go find them.”|0.4Heart][$heart +=5]]
"We warn the pilots. The comms are down for us, but they'll probably be able to send off a message." "Send it using the abacus," the shaph suggests, and though you're ready to provide them with an answer, Tsering beats you to it. "We don't have a one-way channel with them. We warn them, and we're warning the possibly still alive killer, wherever they are. How about you leave the suggestions to us, okay? Just stand there and try not to shoot yourself in the foot." You add in, "He's right. So, we head to the cargo bay. There's an intercom that links directly to the cockpit." Tsering nods his head in agreement, and you're about to see if the shaph understands the plan but find yourself with a lack of care. They will simply slow you down; at that moment, you need to focus on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
"We head to the cargo hold. It contains one entryway, and it's probably the killer's goal. They'll come to us." Tsering nods his head in agreement, and you're about to see if the shaph understands the plan but find yourself with a lack of care. They will simply slow you down; at that moment, you need to focus on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
"We find them before they find us. If the killer is Dinami then we're not just dealing with someone who doesn't know what they're doing. They'll know this ship and our movements." "Agreed. We should probably check on the cargo first then, as that would be the killer's goal," Tsering suggests. You nod, about to see if the shaph understands the plan, but find yourself with a lack of care. He will simply slow you down and at that moment you need to be focused on every shift in your environment. <<include "0.5">>
With nothing more to discuss, the three of you head to the hold. The walls seem like they breathe easier now that their secret has been uncovered, but you almost wish they had remained talkative. It would at least provide some much-needed ambiance to an otherwise quiet walk. The ship careens to the side, and the three of you slide, slamming into the wall as it evens itself out. You earn nothing more than a painful headache that may transform itself into a knot, but that is something you are prepared to deal with. Later means life. <a data-passage="0.5.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
The trip back holds no further excitement, though your racing heart would probably disagree with that assessment. Entering the bay, movement grabs your attention. "Stop!" they shout, raising their gun as the three of you raise yours. Seeing that they're outnumbered, they take cover behind the package. "Get your ass out here!" Tsering shouts. Whoever it is doesn't respond, and there's a moment of silence before you finally see their hands raised in surrender. "Tsering?" He doesn't lower his gun but he does frown. "Do I know you?" "Probably not," the <<link 'nurien'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/nurien.png" align="right" width="30%">Nuriens(nour-wen) are a bipedal reptilian mammalistic species that come in only three colors: purple, pink, or blue. As they age, their bright colors begin to dim, growing paler and de-saturated in tone. Despite this, the glowing markings that can be found all over their body can be a vast array of colors besides pure white, though a grey shade has been seen in several of them. The markings are both gene related as well as based off of one's environment. On their foreheads are two sets of horns, a small set that sit on the far sides of the forehead and the second set starts beneath them, curving under their bat-like ear. Both of these horns are used for combat and sharp enough to scrape away at hard rock. The colors of their horns are a mix of prismatic crystal-like material as well as the other of their markings. Their faces are similar to that of the trarkran species, with the exception that they have squished in noses with four nostrils in the form of slits rather than holes. They possess lips, long incisors, canines, and molars, unique head crests, and two front-facing eyes. Their entire eye is black with only a slightly noticeable pupil that becomes noticeable under direct sunlight. Those who have moved to other planets and reproduced have seen future generations pupils grow larger. Their sclera is commonly the opposite color of their skin, with purple-toned nurien having blue or pink, blue with purple or pink, and pink with purple or blue. They have three sets of eyelids, with one actually being able to filter in the amount of light that reaches their brain. Size varies significantly, with most of them being an average of 130 pounds, but it is not difficult to find those that are far larger or thinner. The species has sexual dimorphism between their two sexes: female and male, it can be seen through the actual body, with females possessing breasts, vaginas, longer horns, and men with no breasts, a penis, thicker horns, and a pouch for children. Evolution has changed the pouch in men though, diminishing it in size due to no longer being necessary, and now being more of a pocket residing across their lower back. Most, as children, will get the pocket either cauterized closed or stitched up so it no longer presents an issue.<</dialog>><</link>> in question sighs, standing at full height as they place their gun on the box and put their hands back up. They glance at you and nod. "But I know both of you. I'm not your target." "And we're supposed to believe that?" "I'm Dinami," they argue, and though the shaph lowers their gun, you and Tsering do no such thing. "Look, my heart is beating faster than ever. I just want off this damn plane. I didn't sign up to have guns pointed at me, so would you mind pointing them at any other fucking thing?" [[“You signed up for worse than this.”|0.5WorseThanThis]] [[“Why are you here?”|0.5WhyYouHere]] [[“Did you see anyone?”|0.5SeeAnyone]] [[“We need to contact the pilots.”|0.5ContactPilots]]
"That statement makes no sense," you growl, not an inch of trust in your tone. "If you're Dinami, then you signed up for way worse than this. You probably even have a few gun wounds." They snarl. "No one signs up to run with the Dinami." They mostly have a point. It doesn't make their earlier sentence make anymore sense than before, but you can forgive one stupid statement for a truthful one. <<include "0.6">>
"Why are you here?" you ask, doing nothing to disguise the suspicion in your voice. "Same thing I can ask you." "I'm not the killer." "Or so you say. You don't believe me. I don't believe you. But I put my gun down nevertheless." "Your idiocy doesn't extend to us," Tsering mumbles, glancing over at the shaph. "Or some of us at least." <<include "0.6">>
"Did you see anyone on your way here?" "If you're asking if I came across any more bodies, then yes. I saw a group scattered in one of the halls. I realized what was happening and came here. Figured there's one way in, and this is the only thing of value on this damn plane, so I have the advantage. Funny, that the three of you came walking in." "Yet none of us are laughing," you mumble. "I find it hilarious. My chest hurts from laughing so hard," Tsering adds in but you ignore him. <<include "0.6">>
"Your wish to get off this plane may not come soon. We need to contact the pilots and tell them to turn around." "Already did." "That bit of turbulence was your doing?" Tsering asks. "Yea. Already on the route back. Comms are down." "We know," you mumble. <<include "0.6">>
You signal the Dinami-claimed to move away, and they do so. Taking a quick look at the shipment, you find it still in one piece, but that does little to assure you of this newcomer's innocence. You lay out what you know. As far as you can see, there are four possible killers. Three of them standing in this room, and the fourth is an unknown integer still roaming the ship or possibly being one of the two pilots. Tsering is a good shot, probably one of the best. The motive is incredibly weak, but the skill matches the damage. The shaph, like Tsering said before, can either be an idiot or the most brilliant person either of you have met. Their actions say one thing, but you don't know them and what they're capable of. The nurien claims to be Dinami and to know both of you. That means the skill set and motive are both possibilities. And then there is the fourth option. If that's the case, all of you staying here is idiotic, especially when the killer can target the pilots or be them. Your frown deepens. Why come here when you can just hijack the plane and fly it somewhere else, dealing with all those inside when you land? "Someone should go check on the pilots," you propose. "We shouldn't be concerned about them," you hear Tsering say, "we have bigger issues here." "Like-" you begin just as a gunshot echoes through the hold. You instinctively grab your gun and aim it towards … [[The shaph.|0.6Shaph][$gut +=2]] [[The nurien.|0.6Nurien][$heart +=2]] [[Tsering.|0.6Tsering][$mind +=2]] [[No one.|0.6None][$heart +=2]]
You aim your gun towards the shaph, only to find two guns now aimed towards you while the nurien lies dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
You aim your gun towards the nurien, only to find two guns now aimed towards you and the one you thought to be the culprit, lying dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
You aim your gun towards Tsering, finding both his and the shaph's pointed at you. The nurien lies in a pool of their own blood, mirroring the look of so many others. <<include "0.7">>
You turn towards the three, maintaining an air of calmness as you tell yourself that those shots were fired at a fourth culprit. You're not sure if you're simply disappointed or tired when you find two guns trained on you while the nurien lies dead on the ground. <<include "0.7">>
Pushing away a dozen questions that infiltrate your thoughts, you focus on keeping your composure and getting out of this precarious situation. Tsering and the shaph gaze upon you as if your future is inevitable. And you realize how right they are when the cargo bay doors open behind you. Your heart thunders to a beat of its own choosing. <<if hasVisited("0.6Tsering")>>\ "Shoot me, I dare you," Tsering snorts, and you pull the trigger, not the least bit shocked when nothing happens. "Out of ammo, huh?" he chuckles and shows you a magazine. "That nap of yours had to be nice." It was your fault for not checking beforehand, but you didn't think much of it. Why would you? //Why wouldn't you?// A voice deep within scolds. <<elseif hasVisited("0.6Shaph")>>\ "What gave me away?" the shaph chuckles, shedding the demeanor you had grown used to seeing them personate. "Mostly doubt. And the odds of the Dinami hiring on a dumbass mercenary afraid of their own shadow. Your acting was nice, but in the end, you leaned into the helpless and stupid act just a bit too much." "Smart. That kind of questioning would have been useful ten pulses ago." "I didn't really factor in you having help." Your eyes shift to Tsering, and though his aim does not waver, his face angle does. <<else>>\ "I figured you had better deduction skills," Tsering comments, frowning. "Let's call it giving others the benefit of the doubt." Your snarky words do nothing to close the pit forming deep within. He isn't entirely correct. You did deduce the possibility of it being one of them. You just really hoped it wasn't. <</if>>\ Tsering looks to his compatriot. "I can handle this. Go make sure the pilot has everything in control." They lower their own weapon and grab the deceased alien, dragging them to the end of the ramp before kicking them off. "Shocking, huh?" Tsering asks, your attention moving back to him. [[“More so disappointed.”|0.7Disappointed][$tser -=10]] <<if settings.dialog>><span class="romance img-invert"></span>[[“Backstabber doesn't look good on you.”|0.1Backstabber][$tserRoPo +=1]]<<else>>[[“Backstabber doesn't look good on you.”|0.1Backstabber][$tserRoPo +=1]]<</if>> [[“This is the best you got?”|0.7BestYouGot][$tser -=5]] [[“So what now?”|0.7WhatNow][$tser +=5]] [[“I'm so foolish.”|0.7MyFault][$tser +=5]] [[“How could you?”|0.7HowCouldYou][$tser +=10]] [[Say nothing.|0.7SayNothing][$tser -=10]]
"Less shocked and more disappointed." "Yea, I can see how this could all be very frustrating." "Don't give yourself that much credit. I was talking about being disappointed in myself. You're just an afterthought." Tsering frowns, displeased by your words. Perhaps he had believed you would praise him or give him some form of credit. This does not shock you. It wasn't the first time he sought out your approval. <<include "0.8">>
"I gotta say, Tsering, the title of backstabber does not look good on you." He snorts. "Everything looks good on me. I think you're just mad you didn't see this coming." "Mad is a word that some may see fit to use in this situation." "But not you?" You pause, thinking about it before shrugging. "No, not really. I feel like there are far greater words to describe what I want to do to that face of yours." <<include "0.8">>
"Gotta say, I'm extremely disappointed in you." "Aw, don't take it that hard. I betrayed everyone." He motions to your surroundings, and you raise a brow. "No, idiot. Not because of that, but because you waited this long. You've had tons of moments to kill me, and you've waited until now. For what? To have a big and dramatic reveal? Sloppy and amateurish." "Your problem is thinking that this is about you. You're just bad timing and placement." Part of you wishes to rage more. To be reduced to simply another casualty is embarrassing enough but by Tsering of all people?! The alien practically begs for your approval most days. <<include "0.8">>
"So what now? You kick me off this plane? What will you tell the Dinami when they ask what happened here? That's if you're crazy enough to go back to them. Which, judging by all of this, you are." "You're getting a little too far ahead. I thought first we may try and clear the air. Get any last-minute grievances or confessions off our chest. Wouldn't want you going to that afterlife of yours with a heavy heart." "We can skip that. I find myself struggling to give a fuck about anything you have to say." <<include "0.8">>
You shake your head, still trying to figure out where you allowed your defenses to slip and let this happen. Countless times you've told yourself to keep your walls up, and still, they fell. And so here you stand. "How could I be so stupid? Fool me once," you mumble, not finishing the phrase but knowing it all too well. <<include "0.8">>
Your brain searches for a reason, and when it fails to find that, it then searches for a truth that it knows will terrify it further. You search his face and his mannerisms, resignedly scouring for anything that will assure you that you are wrong. You find nothing. "How could you?" Keeping the tinge of betrayal out of your voice is a more challenging feat than you previously realized. No matter how much you try to allay and transfer the pain, telling yourself that this was a circumventable self-inflicted wound. It remains. "Don't make this harder," he mumbles, beginning to turn his head away, but something causes him to stop. He clenches his eyes closed before turning back to face you directly, a smirk now residing on his face. <<include "0.8">>
"Aw, come on, not the silent treatment. It's boring. Anticlimactic. Not really fitting the end for someone like you. What happened to all of those 'any last words' moments?" "Those are movies, not reality," you say plainly. But you sorely wish this was a movie. At least then the next few moments would just be a scene, and not your actual end. <<include "0.8">>
"You know, call me foolish, but I pictured this playing out a lot differently in my head. Little ol' me taking out a hit-person of your caliber." <<if hasVisited("0.7WhatNow")>>"Now who's getting too far ahead?"<<else>>"Getting ahead of yourself there, don't you think?"<</if>> He gazes past you and towards the lowered cargo bay ramp. "No, I don't think I am." You have little else stored in your bag of tricks. Even worse, the few things that can be found within are things that Tsering probably expects you to do. The thought twists your stomach and causes a peculiar kind of bile to begin its ascent up your throat. He takes a step closer to you, his alien frame dwarfing yours. <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ Observing you, his demeanor shifts. Shoulders slouch and his eyes lose their saturation as they grow despondent. "Whether you believe it or not, I did respect you, and if it was up to me, you would've never been on this plane. Maybe … in another life, perhaps you and I … we would've …" [[Choose your own destiny.|0.8Destiny]] [[Try to get one last hit in.|0.8Attack]] [[Make him a promise.|0.8None]] <<elseif $tser >=50>>\ "Whether you believe it or not, I did respect you," Tsering begins, "and I do regret having to do this, to you, of all people." But he's doing it anyway. [[Choose your own destiny.|0.8Destiny]] [[Try to get one last hit in.|0.8Attack]] [[Make him a promise.|0.8None]] <<else>> <<nobr>>\<<set $injury_leg to true; $shotme to true>><</nobr>>\ "Whether you believe it or not, I did respect you," Tsering begins, shrugging his shoulders and then firing his gun at your leg. You hiss in pain as you drop down, sliding down the ramp until only your grip is saving you from falling. "But I also can't stand you sometimes." He steps on your hand, and you watch as his figure gets farther and farther away. <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a> <</if>>\
<<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ He's unable to finish his sentence due to the shock that renders him frozen. Your lips meet his mouth as you steal a kiss, pulling back before you can deepen something that you realize you've wanted. He leans forward to continue the action and you let out a weak, humorous snort. "You should be so lucky." The following action requires less thought than you initially presumed. In a single breath, you're leaning back, watching as Tsering lunges forward to catch you before realizing that said thing is impossible and that this is what he wanted. <<else>>\ He's unable to finish his sentence, or at least that's what it sounds like. One minute you hear Tsering's voice, and the next, there is nothing but the wind rushing past you in a single breath as you lean back. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ You don't allow him to finish the sentence, lunging forward to get one last hit in. It doesn't matter if the jab leaves a mark or even hurts him. None of that matters. Tsering sees the attack, but that doesn't mean he's fast enough to avoid it. Your punch lands below his first row of eyes, and he hisses as he takes a step back. You prepare to deliver another when he catches your arm and brings you close, restraining you from taking any more aggressive action. He regards you in pity and you glare at him in hatred. A hatred that he clearly sees and accepts. He whispers the words so close to your lips. "Goodbye." He releases you, and though you knew this was coming, you still have the gall to be shocked. <<else>>\ You don't allow him to finish the sentence, lunging forward to get one last hit in. It doesn't matter if the jab leaves a mark or even hurts him. None of that matters. Tsering sees the attack, but that doesn't mean he's fast enough to avoid it. Your punch lands below his first row of eyes, and he hisses as he takes a step back. You prepare to deliver another when he catches your arm and brings you close, restraining you from taking any more aggressive action. He releases a sigh that borders on irritability and humor and then pushes you backward. You knew this was coming, and yet you still manage to emerge shocked. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"You listen to me," you growl, grabbing his arm to steady yourself and gain every inch of his attention. "If I ever see you again, you'll pay for all this. I don't know why you did this, and I don't care. I just know that you better pray this fall kills me." <<if $tserRoPo >=1>>\ He grows downcast, eyes losing so much saturation you believe they'll turn gray at any moment. He closes his eyes for a second before nodding and whispering the words, "I look forward to it." He pulls his arm back, and though you expected this, it still manages to take you by surprise. <<else>>\ You neither listen or interrupt him, nor act against him. Mostly, you just close your mind to what's about to happen. And even as you do this, you still emerge shocked when nothing is beneath your feet. <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.9"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<set $health to 20>> <<playlist "prologue" fadeout>> <<audio "sad_desert" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ You and the spirits of death are acquaintances of a unique nature. You have faced them many times and never on the same battlefield twice. They provide an ear to a voice suppressed by its own actions as you provide it a great deal of mirth for being so stubborn. To know a song is old and bromidic, riddled with gaps and breaks on a level that feels almost comedic, but still sing it seems a contradiction all its own. But the death spirits don't mind. And when you finally turn to leave their side, they don't rise to chase after you. This meeting will be had again. But it will be a new battlefield, a new situation, and yet and still the same old ballad. The time fast approaches, and there's little you can do but brace. Fragile eyes that struggle to open finally do so, and you regret it. The sun rests directly over you, determined to bake you with a cruelty that feels unwarranted. Moving drains energy that you don't have, but you're alive. You snort, letting your head fall to the side as you stare at the phantasmic figure that sits beside you idly. They seem to gaze out over a landscape you're unable to describe, and though they say nothing aloud, you believe you know what they think. //Never the same field.// "This is getting old," you cough out. The spirit, in their fashion, remains quiet. [[“You lose, again.”|0.9LoseAgain]] [[“I think ... I think you may finally win.”|0.9WinThisOne]] [[“Please.”|0.9Please]] [[Lie there.|0.9LieThere]]
"Why even continue to show?" The words are thought but not said, purely due to the pain that your previous sentence causes. You gasp the words out, "You always lose." The desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
"I ..." your breath escapes you in short bursts, and you must take a few careful deep breaths before continuing. "I think you may with this one." The words almost cause you to laugh. After all this back and forth, they'll finally win. It'll win the one battle that actually was worth a damn. "Finally, huh?" The desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
"Please," you whisper to your silent foe. In truth, this life has long ago become tiring. There had been so many times when the spirit should've won, and the more you think about it, the more you wonder if you wished for it, too. You repeat the plea, but the desert wind takes these words from you, mixing them with the fleeing sand and pushing them across the desolate landscape. The spirit no longer sits beside you. <<include "0.10">>
You stare at them for a few minutes longer, trying to decide if this will be your last battle ... and, if that is something you want. Part of you rebels at that thought. It is far too angry, literally foaming at the mouth at the possibility that you will expire before Tsering. It wants to see his end, to feel his blood seeping through your fingers. So much so that it feels like all that ire is turned on the side of you that feels at peace. The side that feels like this is how it should be, and it's content to know that after a long life of struggling, this may be it. <<include "0.10">>
You shuffle around, pushing past the blinding pain, hoping to get even the slightest glimpse of your surroundings. The pain eclipses both thought and vision, but as parts of it fade, you can make out large and jagged mountains sitting amongst a desert steppe landscape. You attempt to relax, whimpering as a jolt of pain seizes your <<if $injury_leg>>leg, neck, and the upper part of your spine. He shot you. He fucking shot you. For some odd reason, that aspect seems to piss you off more than being ejected from a cargo plane.<<else>>neck and the upper part of your spine.<</if>> <span class="chip">System failure. Backup emergency functions online. Attempting system reboot.</span> Despite the pessimistic nature of the alert, it at least fills you with some kind of hope to know that the chip's emergency shields are probably what saved your life. And to think, you were about to pass up that upgrade. Though, parts of you doubt if it will matter that much. Your side feels like it's on fire. <a data-passage="0.10.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<if $shotme>>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>There is now a permanent scar resting across the right side of your lower back, as well as a permanent bullet wound scar in your leg.<</notify>><</if>>\ <<else>>\ <<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>There is now a permanent scar resting across the right side of your lower back.<</notify>><</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</nobr>>\ <span class="chip">System reboot fail. Manual reset of all functions and systems required.</span> The device goes through a couple more warnings and then, after giving it permission, goes quiet. You find yourself missing the sound of the computerized voice in your head. You can't recall a time when you experienced a system failure, but with that being said, you've also never been ejected from a transport plane. It seems like today has just been full of new experiences. Soon, the pain morphs into numbness like it usually does. In a few hours, however gruesome and severe, your injuries will begin to heal, and you'll be able to stand. Tsering knew of this; you've been in too many scrapes for him not to. Not to mention that it has been the subject of conversation many times. He probably hoped that the fall would kill you on impact. <<if $injury_leg>>Checking your body, you not only have the leg wound but also a deep wound that you surmise stretches from your side to your back<<else>>Checking your body, you find a deep wound that you surmise stretches from your side to your back<</if>>, a bloody, once jagged rock telling you that it is the culprit. You will soon pass out from blood loss. That is a fact. Furthermore, the tiniest shift could have taken fate by the neck and squeezed it hard enough for all of this to be different. For you to be lying here and that phantasm, the final victor. <a data-passage="0.10.2"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="chip">Reboot complete. Please standby.</span> A few minutes later, your implant says: <span class="chip">Data corruption detected. Factory systems restored. Further configuration is requested.</span> You roll your eyes. Nearly dead in some wasteland, and this is what your next few moments will be made up of. Reconfiguring your damn <<link 'abacus'>><<dialog 'Codex - Technology'>>An ''abacus'' is a small triangular-shaped implant device worn by the various sentient creatures of the galaxy. The abacus, also referred to as the Ab, is a super-intelligence data processing chip that aids the individual wearer in multiple ways. There are a few different types, each with its own unique upgrades. The simplest functions include simultaneous and near-accurate language translators, holding vital and personal information, and communication. While the more complicated functions include advanced problem-solving, hacking, shield generation, etc. The implant can typically be found lying against the skin and, with camouflaging programming, blends in with the user's skin. Some actually get the chip installed into their pupil reticles or mouth. When registered, the implant reacts to the individual's voice, and unless a specific version or is hacked and restarted to factory settings, it will not be able to re-adapt to another host.<</dialog>><</link>>. You wouldn't be surprised if this is all due to Tsering too. You'd never say it to his face, but he was thorough. Or maybe you would ... just so he'll die with whatever facial expression he makes from hearing you praise him one last time. It chirps as if to agree with your thoughts. <span class="chip">State full name for voice identifier.</span> [[Orson Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Orson"]] [[Demetrius Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Demetrius"]] [[Kenzo Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Kenzo"]] [[Andressa Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Andressa"]] [[Dhuriya Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Dhuriya"]] [[Katherine Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Katherine"]] [[Estes Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Estes"]] [[Frances Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Frances"]] [[Raquel Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Raquel"]] [[Calypso Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Calypso"]] [[Atlas Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Atlas"]] [[Vega Moran.|Pronouns][$name = "Vega"]] [[Type your name.|InsertName]]
The last time you did this, the chip had you repeat your name twice and still, it got it wrong. A lesson learned: it is much easier to just type such a thing out. <<textbox "$name" "" autofocus>><<button "Enter">><<replace "#name">>Nice to meet you, $name Moran.<</replace>><</button>> <span id="name"></span> <a data-passage="Pronouns"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
"$name Moran," you repeat clearly for the implant, trying and failing to hold in a cough. Sighing, you rotate your neck and shoulders, and though you feel no pain, you make note of how stupid that action is. Everything is numb but that doesn't mean you're not messing anything up. You need to relax. If you die here then you die here, but there's no need to make this worse than what it already is. <span class="chip">Log chosen pronouns.</span> <<link 'State your pronouns.'>> <<pronouns>> <</link>> <a data-passage="Gender"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="chip">Log chosen gender specifications.</span> <<set _gender = ["Female", "Male", "Nonbinary"]>>''Select gender:'' <<listbox "$gender">> <<optionsfrom _gender>> <</listbox>> ''Gender:'' <span id="gender-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Gender Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#gender-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Gender Info " + State.variables.gender + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-gender").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#gender-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#gender-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Gender Info " + State.variables.gender + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <a data-passage="Trans"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
And I am ... [[Trans|Sex][$trans to true]] [[Cis|Sex]]
<span class="chip">Log chosen body preferences.</span> <<set _sex = ["No Disclose", "Vagina", "Penis"]>>''Select sex:'' <<listbox "$sex">> <<optionsfrom _sex>> <</listbox>> ''Sex:'' <span id="sex-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Sex Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#sex-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Sex Info " + State.variables.sex + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-sex").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#sex-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#sex-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Sex Info " + State.variables.sex + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <<set _chest = ["Breasts Present", "Breasts Not Present"]>>''Select chest:'' <<listbox "$chest">> <<optionsfrom _chest>> <</listbox>> ''Chest:'' <span id="chest-info">(nothing)</span><<script>> $(document).one(":passagerender", function (event) { /* Initial display of text pulled from the "Chest Info X" passages. */ $(event.content).find("#chest-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Chest Info " + State.variables.chest + "'>>"); /* Trigger text display upon listbox change. */ $(event.content).find("#listbox-chest").on("change", function (event) { /* Fade out text. */ $("#chest-info").fadeOut(500, function () { /* Update text and then fade it back in. */ $("#chest-info").empty().wiki("<<include 'Chest Info " + State.variables.chest + "'>>").fadeIn(500); }); }); }); <</script>> <a data-passage="Appearance"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
Due to the cybernetic functions in the chip, speaking for anything other than voice identification isn't required. You think and confirm; thus, the chip logs it in the memory banks. You're sure it has something to do with brainwaves and a whole bunch of other scientific crap, but you've never actually sat down to look into it. Always had far greater things to take up your time. <span class="chip">Verifying. Performing facial and voice recognition, fingerprinting, sampling DNA—error. Foreign DNA detected. Species not found in any available databases. Classification needed.</span> "Just label me under terran, you stupid chip," you say breathlessly, not knowing why you said that when you've already had this argument. It's an argument that you never win. Everything feels like it's beginning to slow down while your body feels like it struggles to keep up. Frantically trying to race a landscape that is unshifting. <span class="chip">Classification: Terran. Request denied. Classification needed.</span> "Hybrid. Tetigit ... Terran." <span class="chip">Classification: Tetigit Terran. Request approved. Data still missing. Further information is needed but not required.</span> <a data-passage="0.11"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
//Of course it is//, you think to yourself. Nothing has changed in your physical status. The pain is still numbed, but your breathing is not as laborious as before. The chances of you passing out is still more of a fact and less of a possibility. So, why not? Why not fill in all the needed information now? You certainly don't have anything better to do. The next few prompts that appear all have to do with you personally, confirming all of the things that the chip has hypothesized upon sampling your DNA. //Note: Your eye color is the same as your markings. This does effect some stats (See [[Stat Guide|StatGuide]] for more information) and means that the choices are limited. You can also gain scars over time; the choice below will not affect that; it will only change how many you have currently. (Regardless, you have at least one due to the scar you just recently received.)// ''Eye Color'' <<if ndef $markings>><<set $markings = "red">><</if>><<listbox "$markings">> <<option "Red" "red" `$markings == "red" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Purple" "purple" `$markings == "purple" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Gold" "gold" `$markings == "gold" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Green" "green" `$markings == "green" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Blue" "blue" `$markings == "blue" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Pink" "pink" `$markings == "pink" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Length of Hair'' <<if ndef $length>><<set $length = "bald">><</if>><<listbox "$length">> <<option "Bald" "bald" `$length == "bald" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Short" "short" `$length == "short" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Medium" "medium" `$length == "medium" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Long" "long" `$length == "long" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Type of Hair'' <<if ndef $hair>><<set $hair = "straight">><</if>><<listbox "$hair">> <<option "Straight" "straight" `$hair == "straight" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Curly" "curly" `$hair == "curly" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Wavy" "wavy" `$hair == "wavy" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Kinky" "kinky" `$hair == "kinky" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Braids" "braids" `$hair == "braids" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Dreads" "dreads" `$hair == "dreads" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Color of Hair'' <<if ndef $color>><<set $color = "black">><</if>><<listbox "$color">> <<option "Shades of black" "black" `$color == "black" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of brown" "brown" `$color == "brown" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of red/ginger" "red" `$color == "red" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of blonde" "blonde" `$color == "blonde" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of white/silver" "white" `$color == "white" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of purple" "purple" `$color == "purple" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of blue" "blue" `$color == "blue" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of green" "green" `$color == "green" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Shades of pink" "pink" `$color == "pink" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Beard Length'' <<if ndef $beard>><<set $beard = "short">><</if>><<listbox "$beard">> <<option "Cannot grow beard" "none" `$beard == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "No beard" "nb" `$beard == "nb" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Short" "short" `$beard == "short" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Medium" "medium" `$beard == "medium" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Long" "long" `$beard == "long" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Number of Tattoos'' <<if ndef $tattoo>><<set $tattoo = "none">><</if>><<listbox "$tattoo">> <<option "None" "none" `$tattoo == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Few" "few" `$tattoo == "few" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Several" "several" `$tattoo == "several" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> ''Scars'' <<if ndef $scars>><<set $scars = "none">><</if>><<listbox "$scars">> <<option "None" "none" `$scars == "none" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Few" "few" `$scars == "few" ? "selected" : ""`>> <<option "Several" "several" `$scars == "several" ? "selected" : ""`>> <</listbox>> <a data-passage="0.12"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\ <<if $markings is "red">> <<set $health +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "green">> <<set $agility +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "purple">> <<set $armor +=10>> <<elseif $markings is "blue">> <<set $stealth to true>> <<elseif $markings is "pink">> <<set $perception to true>> <<else>>\ <</if>> <</nobr>>\ <span class="chip">Systems online and functional. Greetings, $name Moran. Abacus is a super intelligence data processing implant to aid you throughout your travels. Abacus, at its essential core, will track your vitals and provide language translation. Would you like a tutorial? There is -</span> "Skip," you moan, far too irked by everything to simply think the word. <span class="chip">Skipping tutorial. You can now access and build your database.</span> "Locate upgrades." <span class="chip">Locating upgrades and mods ... search completed. You have no upgrades or mods.</span> You let out a low growl, so the reboot also disregarded your upgrades? No, someone else did this. Someone working with Tsering but not Tsering himself; he isn't that knowledgeable about tech. [[“Contact the closest emergency service.”|0.12ClosestEmergency][$gut +=2]] [[“Give me my location.”|0.12Location][$mind +=2]] [[“Contact Port 52.Crion.”|0.12Port][$heart +=2]]
"Contact the nearest emergency service." <span class="chip">Command in progress. Failure. Area communications block in place.</span> You had believed that contacting the Dinami was a fruitless venture, but you at least thought calling the local services would help. Though, depending on where you are, you can probably answer the question as to why. "Fine. Location?" <<include "0.13">>
"Location?" <<include "0.13">>
It's a long shot, and you are almost sure it will fail, but an attempt is an attempt. "Contact Port 52.Crion." <span class="chip">Contact restricted. Area communications block in place.</span> It's even worse. Not being able to reach the Dinami is one thing, but not being able to contact anyone at all is another. You glance around and attempt to move but find nothing has changed. The inability annoys you, causing you to feel like you're strapped to tether hooks. "Fine. Location?" <<include "0.13">>
<<nobr>>\<<set $health to 13>><</nobr>>\ <span class="chip">Triangulating in progress. Location known. Sandor System. Planet Crion. The Spires.</span> "The Spires? Nearest civilized town or city?" <span class="chip">Dread Outlands. 10.3 miles in the southwest direction.</span> So, not even Taouron. That's just great. You pause, attempting to swallow whatever bile feels like it wishes to rise. The sensation burns your throat, and it takes a few more minutes before you find yourself able to speak. "I need to get there. Chances of survival?" <span class="chip">Calculating. Health is currently at 13%. Steady. Chance of survival is low. Approximately 17.453% chance of reaching goal.</span> You swear you see that spirit of yours in the distance though you can't be sure. The notion causes you to shiver, but it doesn't matter. Your body feels like it grows weaker by the minute, and keeping your eyes open turns into a challenge you never wished to take on. Once again, you find yourself gazing up at the cloudless sky. You can't recall if <<link 'Crion'>><<dialog 'Codex - Location'>><img style="padding: 0px 0px 0px 10px;" src="images/locations/crion.jpg" align="right" width="45%">(pronunciation: kree-yan) Crion is a decently populated desert planet in the Sandor section. Due to its distance to the system's star, most of Crion's water is found deep underground and inaccessible to most of the inhabitants. There is only one major lake within city walls and focused in the Talke, the agricultural, sector. Other places rely mostly on moisture farms or wells that have been dug deep enough to access some of the underground water. Despite being ripe in minerals and ore, the planet has little to no vegetation and most of its fauna can either be found near water areas or live deep under the sand. A majority of the planet is an area known as No Man's Land that is not able to be inhabited by any of the species due to lack of water, weather conditions, and heat. There are few that can survive the area but establishing a settlement is close to impossible. While most of its population is centered in the metropolis area, there are some inhabiting three settlements residing outside of Crion's wall that are not completely accounted for. This is due to the three areas becoming dumping grounds for criminals, refugees, and slaves sold to the area.<</dialog>><</link>> possessed clouds and if they are of artificial make, a feature that the governments feel brings most of their citizens' peace of mind. Peering up at it causes you to miss <<link 'Terra Genesis'>><<dialog 'Codex - Location'>><img style="padding: 0px 0px 0px 10px;" src="images/locations/genesis.jpg" align="right" width="45%">Terra Genesis, also known simply as Genesis, is a planet in the Terra Star System in the Icarius Cluster. It's the native planet for the terran species. It has no moons and is the second of four planets. Despite being the native homeworld, Genesis is neither the capital planet nor the planet officially recognized by the Nova Galactic Coalition. It does not house the head of the Terran government, and though major corporations such as Delphi Intelligence call the planet home, it is mostly considered an afterthought compared to Prime. While some natives believe such a mindset to be blasphemy and has caused conflict with those from Prime, many see the shift of focus as a blessing. Whereas Prime has been overtaken by various megalopolis' ruled under one governing body, Genesis has continued to flourish from a united network of multiple governments that work in tandem when needed, and nature still flourishes.<</dialog>><</link>>. How long has it been since you've seen its sky? You can barely grasp the memory of when stars were just stars and not suns fueling millions of other systems. When alien life and intergalactic travel was an idea to laugh over while recalling movies. You reach out as if to grasp for that memory but what you find in your hold is something far worse. Reality. There is always a beginning, and the day that comes to mind marked yours. The day //they// came. <a data-passage="0.14"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<nobr>>\<<audio "sad_desert" fadeout>> <<audio "ambience2" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>> <<set $health to 100>><</nobr>>\ <img class="img-invert" src="images/yearfacts/year2024.png" style="float: right; padding: 0px 0px 0px 15px;" alt="2024. Location: Terra Genesis. It it more than mere curiosity and thirst that pushes us to strive, learn, and adapt. It is our duty as terrans to break the preconceived notions that our ancestors have placed. Only then will we ever achieve true greatness. By Dr. Dorji Xolani. Excerpt from “The State We Know.”"> <span class ="flashback">"$name! $name! $name!" You feel them before you see them. Two small bodies jumping on your bed, just barely avoiding landing on—nope, there they go. You shoot up in pain, grunting as the smallest, Dimitri, trips after landing on your leg and, consequently, falls into his older sister, Camila, and the two land in a heap. So many questions tumble back and forth around a mind that has hardly awakened. "<<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'Por qué'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>''por qué'' or ''pourquoi'' - Spanish or French for 'why'. Native SMC speakers often say a mix of both.<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>Por qué<</if>>?" you groan, moving so they can do no further damage. A cuss word almost falls out your mouth as you swallow it back, remembering who you're in the presence of. Camila will probably giggle, but Dimitri will scream his head off, running to your mother's room to tell her of the naughty word you dared to speak. "What are you doing in my room?" "It's not //your// room," Dimitri sings, refusing to let Camila go as he tightens his grip on her. "You share it." Rolling your eyes, you inhale and exhale slowly. "My question still stands. What are you doing in here?"</span> <a data-passage="0.15"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"We're bored," Camila admits. "We wanna go swimming." "Did you ask mamá?" "She's in her room," she tells you, Dimitri nodding so fast you think he may actually harm himself. Glancing at the clock, you check the time and realize you've overslept anyway. It's almost one. Why no one has tried to come and wake you up is yet another query that you may pose later. "Okay, okay. <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'Fiche le camp'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>a French phase meaning 'get out of here'<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>Fiche le camp<</if>>," you tell them, gesturing for both of them to go as you also move to get out of bed. "Go. Go." "Are we going swimming?" Dimitri asks, moving only as far as you've pushed him. He stares up at you with doe-like pale green eyes, his go-to attempt at entrapping and ensnaring you into doing anything he says.</span> [[And yes, it has worked multiple times.|0.15DimitriWins]] [[Sadly, for him, Camila beats him out with her brown.|0.15CamilaWins]] [[They normally double-team you.|0.15DoubleTeam]] [[Neither get very far.|0.15Neither]]
<span class ="flashback">And, as he knows well enough, it has always worked and never failed. He could put a puppy to shame with how he stares at you, perfecting even the bottom lip poke out.</span> <<include "0.16">>
<span class ="flashback">Sadly, for him, you have always been more prone to Camila's dark brown eyes. In his favor, he and Camila usually want the same thing, so it never really matters in the end who gives you the look as long as one of them comes out successful.</span> <<include "0.16">>
<span class ="flashback">Though they are not doing it this time, probably because Camila hasn't gotten the memo, they usually choose to double-team you with their wide-eyed, hopeful looks. Somewhere along the line, they realized that they can get you to agree to things twice as fast if they both do it, instead of depending on just one.</span> <<include "0.16">>
<span class ="flashback">Unluckily for both children, you hardly ever fell for the large, hopeful eyes. Growing up with three younger siblings who would constantly pull such a move, get what they want, while you were given a stern no, has made the eye trick something you detest. A resistance. That is what you have built up against it.</span> <<include "0.16">>
<span class ="flashback">"I will tell you after I get dressed." You push them out of the room more than guide them or leave it up to their listening skills. The door closes to a fit of giggles, and you sigh upon hearing Dimitri scream about how you'll be taking them swimming. You should've expected nothing less. Heading over to your dresser, you shimmy it left and right until it decides to work with the hinges. An assortment of t-shirts stares back at you as you sort through what's available. Judging from how hot you are now, even with the ceiling fan overhead on max, you should dress lightly. The blinds are closed, and the room still feels like it's hitting the temperature outside, which at the very least reaches one hundred. "Toc knock." You whirl around as Dante lets himself into your shared room. His movement slows as if he's shocked to see you there, but then he motions to the dresser. "Gonna stand there or let others in too?"</span> [[“Most people knock then wait.”|0.16KnockThenWait]] [[“I was here first.”|0.16HereFirst]] [[“Good morning, Dante.”|0.16GoodMorning]]
<span class ="flashback">"You know, most people don't say that and open the door simultaneously. There's a pause. A //courtesy// pause. A 'hey, is anyone in here' pause." "We're about ten years past 'courtesy' pauses. Now, can you move? I need the dresser, too."</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"Last I checked, you //just// entered the room, and I was already in here. Meaning I have first dibs on the dresser." "Sharing is caring." "Then you should care about giving me more time." "Oh, would you just move so I can use the dresser."</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"Good morning to you, too, Dante." "Morning?" he snorts, his brow raising as he nods his chin towards the window. "It's the afternoon." "Why'd you let me sleep so late?" He shrugs. "There's no school and nothing to do, so why wake you? Now, can you move? I need the dresser, too."</span> <<include "0.17">>
<span class ="flashback">"For what?" "Dimitri wanted to pour juice on his own instead of asking me, and I was too late, and it spilled everywhere." "Is this before or after he came in here screaming about going swimming?" "Before, probably." Dante walks up beside you, opening his side of the dresser up as he messily scoots things around. "Are you going to take him?" "Would have to ask maman first." "Why not run it past Lieutenant Cabrón?" You fail to answer, acting as if you haven't heard him as you continue to find clothes for the remainder of the day. Dante notices, snorting as he pulls out a tank top. "You ever gonna forgive him?" "Nothing to forgive." "Try again. You haven't said more than five words to him since he's been back."</span> [[“He's not around.”|0.17NotAround]] [[“Isaias made his choice.”|0.17MadeChoice]] [[“Why mess up a good thing?”|0.17MessUpGoodThing]] [[“Drop it.”|0.17DropIt]]
<span class ="flashback">"He's not around for me to say anything more than five words to him." "Mucho merde. He's right downstairs. He's hardly left the house, trust me, I know, he's been complaining to me about it. Lie to someone likely to believe you."</span> <<include "0.18">>
<span class ="flashback">"Isaias made his choice." "This again?" "You brought it up," you mumble, absentmindedly shifting clothes around. You're no longer paying attention to what you're doing, and for a second, you forget why you even opened the drawer in the first place.</span> <<include "0.18">>
<span class ="flashback">"Why mess up a good thing?" You shrug, already knowing what Dante's rebuttal to that will be. "$name. You can't be serious. It's not a good thing if you can't ever truly let it go. Être bucké."</span> <<include "0.18">>
<span class ="flashback">"Drop it," you warn, grabbing whatever piece of clothing your hand finds first. You weren't in the mood to continue this conversation, especially with Dante. Despite his loyalty—or more so because of it—he'll go and tell Isaias in hopes of having all of this discussed and settled.</span> <<include "0.18">>
<span class ="flashback">Dante pauses, then sighs as he turns his back towards you, pulling off his shirt and putting on the tank he decided to grab. Once done, he turns to face you, his features softer than before. "He didn't abandon us." "What do you call it?" He shrugs. "A tough decision?" You snort, certainly seeing little reason to continue this conversation now. You see no point, and thankfully, Dante picks up on such impedance. "Anyway. I'll meet you downstairs." He starts towards the door. "Wait. Is maman still in her room?" He nods and then leaves. For a moment, you consider what he said, but your stance stays the same. A rough decision, yes. But his decision was to leave all of you, just like your father did. A tough choice can still lead to a wrong one. Grabbing clothes, you go and hop into the shower. Keeping it short, you're out a few minutes later, readjusting your clothes as you approach the stairs, your mother's room only a few feet away.</span> [[Go in and check on her.|0.18CheckOnMom]] [[Continue downstairs.|0.18Downstairs]]
<span class ="flashback">Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in before knocking on the door and, without waiting for an answer, see yourself in. The room is bathed in darkness, and a humid, stale fetor has permeated the entire space. You almost move to the window to let some air in but think better of it due to the heat. Instead, you search for your mother, easily finding her near the vanity, her head in her hands. "Maman?" She jumps, her eyes wide until they manage to focus on you, and her body deflates. "Oh, bébé. Is everything okay?" she asks, managing to spare you a smile. "Uh … yea. I was just making sure you were awake. Late night at the store?" "Oh … no. Dimitri," she pauses, waving the words away before giving you a brighter smile than before. It fails to meet her eyes, instead managing to make her look even more tired than before. A task you did not believe possible. "I'm fine. Merci, mi amor." You wonder which sibling would believe her, excluding the younger two. She hasn't been fine for a very long time, and you can do nothing but watch that deterioration worsen.</span> [[A lesson you learned the hard way.|0.18LessonLearnedHardWay]] [[It wasn't your job.|0.18WasNotJob]]
<span class ="flashback">This is not to say that you never attempted. She was your mother, and you love her, but there is only so much that a child can do for an adult. You cannot lessen the bills, cannot go grocery shopping, get a job to erase the burden, and certainly can't bring your father back. You yearn for the day when her shoulders will naturally relax, where she won't have to put on so much makeup to hide the effects of sleepless nights, or where she can find some joy in a world that you have no doubt has grown horrendously drear.</span> <<include "0.18.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You aren't Isaias. Not in age, personality, or behavior. None of it. You're a child, and you don't see how it's your job to take on responsibilities substantially greater than you can carry. You just turned old enough to take on some of the smaller jobs that your town may have, but then you'd have to compete with the other middle schoolers who dream of having some extra pocket change. You have enough to deal with. Tacking on a job just does not appeal to you.</span> <<include "0.18.1">>
<span class ="flashback">You take one last look at her closed door and then make your way downstairs. You have begun to grow accustomed to her shutting herself away to the point where you no longer see the need to worry. She's an adult; whatever she's deciding to do is her choice. Yet, that thought also falls flat when you push farther. She is not just an adult but your mother. No matter how mature you pretend to be, you still need a mother, especially when that is the only parental figure you possess.</span> <<include "0.19">>
<span class ="flashback">"Did you need something?" she asks, straightening up. "Dimitri and Camila asked to go to the pool." "Is that what he was screaming about?" she mumbles, shaking her head a second later. "Have you all finished your homework?" You wince at the thought of it, confirming her answer. "No." "Finish that first and then you can go. Take Isaias with you." "Dante and I are old enough to take them." "I know but I'd feel better with Isaias there." "But—" She turns to face you and you shrink back. "Please, mi amor, don't argue with me. Finish your homework and take Isaias with you." "Okay." Is all you reply with before turning and leaving the room.</span> <a data-passage="0.19"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">The house is relatively quiet, reminding you of the continued blackout that your entire town still faces. They aren't exactly rare, nor are they common. Every few months, you get them, some lasting far longer than others. According to your teachers, it's simply that the power grid is unable to handle the demand, or those who work there are upgrading the power grid to accommodate a civilization that's now moving faster than utilities can handle. This exact blackout has been going on for six days. It keeps you from doing many things, considering that almost everything you possess runs on electricity, but it also keeps you at home and out of school. Sometimes, sacrifices are required. But a weeklong sacrifice, well, you can't rightfully justify that.</span> <a data-passage="0.20"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Heading into the kitchen, you find Rayna, another of your younger siblings, already within. "Mor- Afternoon, Rayna." "Buenas //tardes//," she replies, putting unnecessary stress on tardes. Enough for you to roll your eyes as you gaze around and take stock of the kitchen's current status. "Hungry?" "It's for the younger two," she corrects. "It's almost their lunchtime."</span> [[“Do you need help?”|0.20HelpOut]] [[Make a sandwich for yourself.|0.20MakeSandwich]]
<span class ="flashback">"Do you need any help?" She pauses, wiping the surprise off her face before she nods at one of the plates you perceived as done. "Can you get the smiley face cutter and use it on that sandwich? Dimitri refuses to eat if his pieces aren't smiling back at him."</span> [[“I know, Rayna.”|0.20IKnow]] [[“How'd you figure that one out?”|0.20FigureThatOneOut]] [[“Understood.”|0.20Understood]]
<span class ="flashback">"I know, Rayna. You're not the only one who takes time out of their day to care for the little two." "Really?" she asks, pouting in a way that assures you that she's about to utter something sarcastic and filled with attitude. "Because it feels like I'm the only one who ever does anything with them. I'm the one who's always left behind when you and Dante go out on your adventures." "Are you mad about us not dragging you along, or because you're expected to help take care of the little two?" She simply rolls her eyes, either unwilling to answer or not knowing how.</span> <<include "0.21">>
<span class ="flashback">"Huh," you snort, reaching for the cutter as you peer over at her. "How did you figure that one out?" "A TV show, believe it or not," she sighs. "I don't remember which, but we were watching cartoons and one of the kids was eating a sandwich with this smiley face, and so Dimitri chose to bang on the table, demanding one. Ever since, he has refused to eat anything but." "Yea, that definitely sounds like Dimitri," you chuckle.</span> <<include "0.21">>
<span class ="flashback">"Understood," you reassure her, reaching for the cutter in question.</span> <<include "0.21">>
<span class ="flashback">"Next time," you start, walking over to the cabinet and grabbing a plate for yourself, "can you guys not let me sleep that long? It feels like it's supposed to be eleven o'clock." "Wake you up and have you yell at me?" she snorts. "No thank you." You produce a light chuckle, busying yourself with making a sandwich with what remains of your ingredients. Hopefully, this blackout ends soon; the house is beginning to run dangerously low on groceries.</span> <<include "0.21">>
<span class ="flashback">"Did the younger two tell you they wanted to go swimming today?" "Yes, that's the entire reason I woke up." You stare at the first few cut faces, pondering who even bought these. You can't picture your mother knowing enough about Dimitri's preferences to have done it, but maybe that's giving her too little credit; it's just the older kids that she pays so little attention to. You catch Rayna shaking her head. "Sorry. I was hoping mamá would just let me take them. I don't see why I can't."</span> <<if hasVisited("0.18CheckOnMom")>>\ <span class ="flashback">"She didn't want Dante and me to take them either. Said that Isaias had to go." "Does she not trust us?" You shrug, explaining your mother's shift in moods and thoughts nowadays were a headache and virtually impossible. You finish <<if hasVisited("0.20HelpOut")>>the task she previously given and, nabbing a piece for yourself, leave.<<else>>your task and, without verbally telling Rayna, leave.<</if>></span> <<else>>\ <span class ="flashback">"You're only eleven." "And you're only thirteen." You roll your eyes. "Yea, a teenager, which is the minimum age you have to be if you want to be at the pool without an adult." "You just turned thirteen and-" she mumbles before trailing off. Whatever she had to say has become nothing but a thought that she'll hold against you in the future, like always. You finish <<if hasVisited("0.20HelpOut")>>the task she previously given and, nabbing a piece for yourself, leave.<<else>>your task and, without verbally telling Rayna, leave.<</if>></span> <</if>>\ <a data-passage="0.22"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">With lunch taken care of, you head outside with your textbook and assignments in hand. You freeze upon seeing your eldest brother sitting at the table; part of you even reconsiders whether you should stay out here. Yet, after walking out here, you can already determine that the outside temperature is much better than inside, at least the light breeze is acting as AC. You will have to scowl and bear it, just ignoring Isaias's presence like you've been doing since his return. You take the seat furthest away from him, opening your textbook to begin working. Luckily, the radio sitting on the table springs back to life, chasing away the silence and the leaden, awkward air. "Scientists, with the help of <<link 'trarkran'>><<dialog 'Codex - Species'>><img src="images/species/trarkran.png" align="right" width="30%">(tuh-wahk-wen) The trarkran are native to the Lyrae System, originating from Miarilia. They are the most prominent species in the galaxy and the first to discover and utilize cosmicium. Almost every species, save for vetix and draqe, have them to thank for where they are today. They are a traditional and highly competitive society that openly views their ways as superior to other species. The trarkran basic anatomy is similar to the terran's, with significant differences being their cartilage-based head crests, tails, and having only four digits on their hands. Their head crests are flexible and hardy and, therefore, able to be moved in a series of different styles without concern of damage. Crest limitations and growth are specific to the individual, with some finding their crest growing only a few inches before stopping and others finding their crests thicker and longer than others. Their crests are always an ombre color, with the base being the same as their skin and the tip being the same shade as their facial marking. They possess two sensitive ears that sit high on their heads and are used as a form of expression. They possess flat noses with ridges and small spikes on both sides of their jaws. They also have tails, with males possessing only one and females possessing two. In both circumstances, these highly flexible tails are used for balance, piercing, and are later shown to also be used to care for the young. The tail is strong enough to lift various things, and a child is one of them. Due to females being the primary hunters, the extra tail allows for additional balance and mobility, and when used during hunts as a rudder, allows for sharper turns and a boost of speed during these turns. The species' skin tones range from shades of brown, orange, and red, while facial markings rely on their skin tone but will predominantly be shades of brown or grey. Their eyes have been observed to exist in every color save for white and black. Their pupils are slits that can get rounder upon dilation, and their brightly saturated irises are large and always resting against a black sclera. Cosmicium reacts different to all species. For trarkran, it led to a manipulation of their blood, thus allowing them to inflame a mix of energy and blood and use it as a power source known as moi̥. Able to be utilized as a defensive and offensive ability, trarkrans must also discharge it in an act called 'sparking.' A buildup of blood and energy can lead to death if not emptied. Severe heat temperatures will also cause the sensation to grow faster, while colder temperatures are slowed due to the buildup being burned off to heat the individual.<</dialog>><</link>> allies, continue to further expand Terra's technologies and what we know. We're here with scientist Malcolm Drake from Delphi Industries to talk about just one ... the more recent ..." The radio announcer's voice sputters out before turning to lasting static. It was nice while it lasted. An eyebrow raise is all you pay the situation in terms of attention before placing it back on the papers in your hand. Despite all of the issues that this blackout has brought, your teachers still find ways to get you to learn and—as they like to put it—embrace and acquire. You can't remember the last time you've held a textbook, let alone opened it and took notes from it. Your eyes drift across the page's contents, retaining nothing you read.</span> [[Standard history.|0.22History][$smarts +=10]] [[Coding problems.|0.22Coding][$tech +=10]] [[Body anatomy.|0.22Anatomy][$medical +=10]] [[Political science.|0.22Politics][$tact +=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Intelligence ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">It's standard world history. Information surrounding places you'll probably never see, wars that you will never experience, and figureheads that have been buried long before you were even a thought. It all seems so trivial when you're living through a historical event. Aliens on Terra Prime. Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Technology ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A book about coding and your personal notes rest before you. Any other day, the variables and lines of symbols mixed with words make sense. They translate themselves to you similarly to how another's language would. Your brain processes it, then translates it, and you gain valuable information and clarity. Today is not like those days. Your brain processes it but somewhere along the road between processing and translating, it vanishes—like most things nowadays. It's hard to stay focused on your studies when all you wish to do is learn more about what the aliens have done this time. Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Medical ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">A terran muscle diagram stares back at you, with a skeletal version resting beside it. You clearly see the lines and the labels beside them, but words become gibberish, and nothing really remains in your brain even after writing them and what they do down. Mainly, it causes you to wonder what the alien's anatomy is like and if you'll ever be able to see a diagram of that. How do their muscles work? Is their blood red like terrans? Anatomy-wise, are they closer to insects, mammals, reptiles, or even amphibians? There is so much to learn! Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Diplomacy ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Resting in front of you is information that has less to do with the history of the world and more to do with government and politics. Politics concerning the shaping of Genesis and the splitting of Prime. A book filled with faces and names of individuals who mean very little to you. All who believed themselves right in the moment and probably have hands forever dyed in red. There is very little you believe you can learn from this, and what you can, you already know. Genesisers and Primers hate one another, the end. It all seems so trivial when you're living through a historical event. Aliens on Terra Prime. Granted, it's been a few years since they initially touched down, but the excitement for many has yet to dampen.</span> <<include "0.23">>
<span class ="flashback">You watch Isaias fiddle with some of the dials, pressing an assortment of buttons afterward before finally deciding to just hit it. "That ain't how it works," you sigh, rolling your eyes as you attempt to give your work even a modicum of attention. <<if $tech >=10>>\ "Howzabout you help me then computer genius." "I am helping. I told you that hitting it won't help." He frowns at your reply, but your grin only grows wider. <<else>>\ "Yea, well, sometimes you have to force things to work," he grumbles, smacking it a second time. Both of you freeze as a few garbled words are said but then it flat-lines once again, inevitably proving your point. <</if>>\ "This is becoming frustrating," he exclaims. "Radio moche. Age of technology, mi culo." He looks as grumpy as he sounds, practically steaming as he rests back in the chair. "How <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'canza'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>(can-zya) - less of a word and more of a quick combination of 'can' and 'ya(you)'. Most will shorten it even more such as 'canza calm or canza quiet' meaning 'can you be calm' or 'can you be quiet'<</dialog>><</link>>,</span><<else>>canza<</if>> calm?" he questions. "It's just a blackout. It's not like this is the first time we've had one." You grumble the next part of your statement. "Just the first one you've experienced." "<<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'Tu mad, huh? If a dirt, a dirt. If squelch in tib, keep flying. Heard?'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>a phrase spoken by Isaias that consists of a mix between South Midland Creole, Jamaican patois, Genesis military slang, and Caribbean Republic Creole. In basics, he is asking: "if Moran is mad. That it is, what it is and that if you step in oil/mess while in a ship tube then you just have to keep going as there's no point to stopping. Understand?"<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>Tu mad, huh? If a dirt, a dirt. If squelch in tib, keep flying. Heard?<</if>>" he asks, his speech picking up and falling into a sort of rhythm that makes it even harder to understand what he's saying. You would think that out of the two of you, his argot would have grown more formal. A Terran Marine needs to be able to effectively communicate with a wide range of people. And yet, here you sit, struggling to keep up with your own tongue and phrases from languages you have never been exposed to. You focus on the part that you did understand.</span> [[“I'm trying to study.”|0.23Study][$open -=2]] [[“No, of course not.”|0.23CourseNot][$open -=5]] [[“Yea, I kinda am.”|0.23KindaAm][$open +=5]] [[Shrug.|0.23Shrug][$open +=2]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Ignoring the fact that I couldn't understand 90% of what you just said. I'm trying to study," you grumble, your grip tightening on the pen in your hand as you look over pages that become more and more foreign. "Ha, va t’a la chingada. You haven't written down shit since you came out here. Spill. What did I do to piss you off?"</span> <<include "0.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Ignoring the fact that I couldn't understand 90% of what you just said. I'm fine. I was fine yesterday and the day before. And the week before that and the month before that and -" "Okay, okay. You're fine. Am I allowed to even know why you're up a galley with me?" You're about to reiterate your previous point of not being mad but decide against it. Otherwise, this conversation will see no end.</span> <<include "0.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Ignoring the fact that I couldn't understand 90% of what you just said. Yea, I guess I kinda am mad at you." Your frown deepens as you shrug your shoulders and glance at him. "I'm allowed to be mad about that." "No. Not when that anger is falling on me for no reason."</span> <<include "0.24">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You shrug, unsurprised, when your brother shakes his head, turning his chair so that he's now facing you directly. "No, don't shrug. Words, $name. Tell me what's up." "Can you first use words that I understand?" He has the sense to at least look like he realized his presumptuous mistake.</span> <<include "0.24">>
<span class ="flashback">You remain silent, and he sighs, the anger fading from his voice as he runs his hands through his hair, still failing to grow back to its original length after being cut all those years ago. "We used to talk a lot," he reminds you. "You could tell me anything. You //did// tell me everything." "Si. Now you just speak languages I can't understand," you manage to grumble, finding that despite the simplicity and pettiness of the statement, it still manages to shine a light on the true problem. He seems to grow calmer, his shoulders slumping. "I was always going to come back." "That's what //he// said too." Isaias begins to reply when the door opens and Dante comes out, saving you from whatever conversation is looming.</span> <a data-passage="0.24.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"<<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'Hace mucho calor'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>Spanish phrase referring to the weather. Means 'it is really hot'<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>Hace mucho calor<</if>>!" he screams to the neighborhood before taking a seat and huffing dramatically, "and I'm bored." He grins. "You guys wanna go to the pool?" Far too late does Dante pick up on the mood and stiffens, his eyes wide as he looks from you to the eldest. "What the fuck did I walk in on?" "Hey!" Isaias growls. "Watch your mouth." Dante snorts. "Sure, papá." "Nothing," you say, actually answering him. You shake the paper in your hands. "Did you finish your notes?" "Nah, and I won't until this blackout is over. My excuse will be that I forgot how to hold a pencil. Seriously, what's up with them sending us back to the dark ages?" While you and Isaias shake your head, Dante nudges your foot from underneath the patio table, gaining your attention. He doesn't use words, but Dante never had to when it came to you. Out of all your siblings, Dante was the easiest to communicate with, perhaps due to his openness and honesty. Traits that usually got him in trouble. But it was a welcome shift compared to stoic Isaias or over-sharer Rayna.</span> <a data-passage="0.25"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Your silence causes Dante to quit probing as he turns his attention to the faulty radio. His boredness becomes infectious, and you struggle to stay in one place. You miss the internet and television, electricity in general. The only thing you have—had—that works is the radio. Until now, you could listen to reporters and enjoy a few different music stations. But each day, more stations flicker out of existence, leaving you with none. At least every other blackout left you with a working radio and some speck of sanity. Isaias rises, pacing back and forth on the narrow patio. "This feels wrong." "Your soldier gut tell you that?" Dante questions. "There just can't be a blackout? Something //has// to be wrong?" "Hey, <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'pendejo, tais-toi'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>*''pendejo'' n. - Spanish derogatory for 'idiot,' though the word may shift depending on area. *''tais-toi'' - French for "shut up"<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>pendejo, tais-toi<</if>>." "How about you first, <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'connasse'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>French derogatory meaning 'bitch'<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>connasse<</if>>!"</span> [[Backup Dante.|0.25Dante][$heart +=5]] [[Backup Isaias.|0.25Isaias][$gut +=5]] [[Try to change the conversation.|0.25ChangeConvo][$mind +=5; $tact +=5]] [[Stay out of it.|0.25StayOutOfIt][$heart +=2; $mind +=2; $gut +=2]]
<span class ="flashback">"Dante has a point," you shout, getting both of them to shut up. "Like I said, this is your first blackout, not ours. We're used to this." "First, it's not my first blackout. Another reason why I think this is a problem." "Yea, watch out it's the fucking Primers launching a sneak attack," Dante grins. "Again," Isaias warns gravely, "watch your mouth." You shrug nonchalantly. "Technology practically runs everything nowadays so when something is faulty, everything suffers from it." He shakes his head before you're even done speaking, glancing around as if an answer will appear. And soon, it does in the shape of a police car pulling to a stop in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.26">>
<span class ="flashback">"Technically," you shout, thankful that your voice causes both of them to shut up. "This is different. Every other blackout we still had the radio working. Now, nothing." "Every blackout gets worse though," Dante points out. "And that's not something you should be alarmed about?" Isaias shakes his head. "Cré'jo." Before Dante can fire off another insult, a police car catches all of your attention. You watch as it comes to a stop in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.26">>
<span class ="flashback">"Maybe we should play a game or work on a puzzle," you suggest, possessing no other ideas at the moment. You suppose you can go with Dante's earlier proposal of visiting the pool, at least then the younger two would be happy. <<if hasVisited("0.18CheckOnMom")>>You can just lie to your mother, tell her that all of you are finished with your assignments, it's not like she'll check.<<else>>That is, if it is even open due to the blackout.<</if>> Isaias spares you a look of disbelief. "Electricity is off and the entire town is without a signal and you want me to just sit around and play puzzles with you?" If anyone else said that, you'd peer at them as though they were the crazy ones. What are any of you to do about this when even local law enforcement stands at an impasse? But it isn't anyone else, it's your older brother who went off to join the Genesis military. Standing around waiting to be saved isn't part of his construct. Thankfully, none of you are able to add in anything else to the riveting conversation due to a police car parking in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.26">>
<span class ="flashback">"Les crétins," you mumble, fighting the temptation to go back into the house and leave them to whatever bickering they are about to engage in. The only thing that stops you is the sight of a police car. You watch as it slows and comes to a complete stop right in front of your house.</span> <<include "0.26">>
<span class ="flashback">No words are spoken as the cop nears, glancing at you and Dante before placing his full attention on Isaias. "Salut, Captain," Isaias greets. "Buenas tardes, Lieutenant Isaias," he nods in greeting. "Can I speak with you down at the station?" "Something wrong?" The officer gazes over at the two of you, obviously trying to figure out what he should say since he's in your presence. But a thunder clap renders him silent as a shadow falls across the entire neighborhood. You rise and leave the safety of the porch to take a look into what was once a cloudless sky, your heart stilling as you stare back at the descending, dome-like spaceship.</span> <a data-passage="0.26.1"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Sí …" the Captain says, gulping, "I think there may be one. We um …" He attempts to find the right words but fails as his gaze stays fixed to the sky. "We just, uh ..." "I understand, let's go." This seems to shake the Captain out of whatever trance the ship has placed upon him and he nods firmly, speed walking towards the cruiser as Isaias follows. "Wait, what?" you question, grabbing his hand, terror filling your heart. "No, no. Don't go." "It's going to be fine," he reassures you, squeezing your hand before worming his free. "I'll be right back. Je promesa. And until I get back, go inside and stay there." He pauses. "Keep an eye on mamá." Neither of you move from your spot as you watch the two men get into the police cruiser. "Tout d'suite!" Isaias yells one last time. You still fail to move as the car disappears down the street, vanishing into the darkness. Something deep inside of you fidgets and squirms, begging for you to listen. To run and hide.</span> [[“Let's go inside.”|0.26GoInside]] [[Stay outside a bit longer.|0.26StayOutside][$dante_brave to false]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Brave<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Dante," you murmur as he leaves the safety of the porch and walks further into the yard, gazing up at the spacecraft. "Dante, come on. Isaias said to go inside." "Un momento," he tells you, his eyes not leaving the sky. "Dante," you hiss, "now. Let's go." You doubt the house will serve as any true protection, but it has to be leagues better than looking straight at an open maw and choosing to venture closer. Dante finally glances at you and once seeing your expression, nods his head. He spares the ship one last look before following you into the house.</span> <a data-passage="0.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>New Trait Dynamic Unlocked with Dante: Cautious<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class ="flashback">"Can we just go inside already?" Dante questions. You step further out into the yard, taking in the hovering spacecraft. You have always seen them on television, but never with your own eyes. You believed them large through the screen but you suppose you never realized how massive they were until they were right there before you. "$name!" Dante growls, his hand grasping yours and you can feel just how much he's trembling. "Go ahead," you tell him. "I want to see what happens." "No, no, please," he begs, "I don't want to leave you out here alone with this but I don't want to stay out here either. I just feel like something really bad is about to happen." You choose not to question how going inside will keep whatever that bad thing is from happening. This doesn't alarm you, not really. Between you and Dante, you've always been the more adventurous and daring one. Wrong way means continue on and paths with no trails scream at you to forge one. Dante, through sheer hatred of being alone, joins you and that is probably the only reason. Sighing, you turn and nod, following him back into the house.</span> <a data-passage="0.27"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">Once inside you lock the door, refraining from the thoughts hovering around in your mind. <<if hasVisited("0.26StayOutside")>>You head over to the blinds and peek out and up. You've<<else>>While you head towards the couch, Dante stays by the windows, peeking out the blinds. He's<</if>> been fascinated with the aliens ever since you all gathered around the television the day they landed and presented themselves to your world leaders over on Terra Prime. They looked nothing like the images you've seen in movies and online. They didn't possess a giant head with large black eyes that seem to take up most of their face. They weren't these lanky, skeletal-like creatures with gray skin and long limbs. Calling them alien seemed like an insult. It was true that they appeared odd and obviously not terran, but the connotation of the word alien just felt odd when describing their features. You remember taking in their appearance, committing it to memory like so many others. Trarkran, that is what they call themselves. Here you were presented with a species that could communicate, build, reproduce, and more. They were similar to all of you, simply looked and spoke differently. Since then, you, like so many others, entered into an almost trance-like state. Any information about the aliens was taken and devoured like the first drops of rain upon a soil deep in drought.</span> [[You were amazed. They were aliens!|0.27AliensAliensISay][$view +=10]] [[You were curious, but anxious.|0.27CuriousAndAnxious][$view +=5]] [[They freaked you out.|0.27FreakOut][$view -=5]] [[You had no opinion.|0.27NoOpinion][$view -=10]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">At the time, you failed to understand how anyone could be anything less than amazed by the news. It didn't matter if you were a kid or adult, this was the biggest news of the century. Class never felt the same as even teachers struggled to remain focused. Televisions were on and kept to a low volume as teachers taught their lessons, drifting off whenever the trarkrans came into view. History was in the making and you were all alive to witness it.</span> <<include "0.28">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Zealous ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">The aliens drew as much interest and curiosity from you as it did anyone else but it also caused you to feel anxious. It felt much like wandering into a dark hole whose origins were mostly fictitious imaginings created by your mind. Every time they appear you gave them your undivided attention, trying to push past the feeling in your gut that screams for a need of caution.</span> <<include "0.28">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">If others felt the way you did, they did a wonderful job of not showing it. You surmise that there's no doubt that you were curious, who wouldn't be? But the fear outdid any kind of awestruck feeling you may have felt. While many gaped and fantasized aloud, you kept to your corner of fear and anxiousness, not willing to speak up out of fear of being ostracized by your peers. You told no one, not even Dante, about the nightmares that would have you clutching onto your pillow in the middle of the night. Horrors stitched into your brain by a bloody needle, held by crooked fingers.</span> <<include "0.28">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Jaded ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Your opinion wasn't particularly strong, not like Rayna's whose pupils seemed to dilate an entire eight millimeters or like your mother who seems to express her horror and grief through body language. They exist and there's little you can do about it. Having no opinion seemed as blasphemous as having one, regardless of which side you leaned on. How could something this large invoke only a shrug and pull a disinterested sigh? You still seek out answers to that one.</span> <<include "0.28">>
<<nobr>>\<<audio "ambience2" fadeout>> <<audio "invasion" volume 0.15 fadeto 0.30 loop>><</nobr>>\ <span class ="flashback">"$name!" you hear Camila call out. She comes bounding down the stairs and straight towards you. In her arms and secured close to her chest is her favorite plushie. At first, you think she's ripped it again. It wouldn't be the first nor the last. But the look in her eye screams of something else. "I'm scared," she whimpers, pushing her face into your thigh. Before you can reassure her, a loud droning is emitted while a soft blue light bathes your living room. Seconds later, it fades before fading back in. You release her, but she grabs onto you tighter this time. "Don't go!" "I need to see what's going on." Something small yet distinct snorts in your head, <<if $dante_brave>>telling you your words are a lie. You don't need to, nor do you genuinely want to, but you //have// to know what's happening. Dante is already at the door, looking at you.<<else>>telling you how ridiculous you're being. You don't need to but you want to and if there are any consequences to be paired with your curiosity, you'll face them. Glancing around, you look to Dante who is hovering near the window, obviously not wishing to join you.<</if>> "Take Churro." She thrusts the stuffed piglet into your arms. "Valiente." You thank her and head back outside. No longer is there just a spaceship overhead, but a large dome now spills over you, stretching for miles in all directions. In the distance, you can barely make out its end. The scope causes you to tumble backward, almost tripping, but you regain footing. You find many others outside, pointing and shouting as hysteria grows among them. You, and all those within, are imprisoned.</span> [[Remain calm and indifferent.|0.28CalmIndifferent][$open -=5]] [[Express your fear.|0.28ExpressFear][$open +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Evasive ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Despite the pounding of your heart, you manage to keep yourself calm, or as calm as you possibly can in such a scenario. Panicking will do you nor anyone else any good. Your insides practically scream at you but you retain your passiveness, every other thought is one reminding you to remain collected.</span> <<include "0.29">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Candid ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Your heart beats with the fury of waves crashing against an unyielding cliffside and you have no wish to hide it. You clutch onto Camila's stuffed animal to ground you but it does a poor job. You don't know what's happening and you are terrified of the idea that it soon won't matter. That you'll soon be part of it and will see it up close.</span> <<include "0.29">>
<span class ="flashback">"Dante," you manage to finally say, and he comes to your side. His mouth opens, but all you hear is an explosion. In the distance, fire and smoke take to the air, looking to slam against the dome, but like you, it's trapped. "Dante," you repeat, this time, there is much more fear in your voice. "Inside!" he shouts, grabbing you and pulling you back towards the house. The people behind you scream, their hysterics flooding your ears and only dampening when Dante closes the door behind you. "What's going on?" Rayna questions. She stands on the staircase with your mother who holds Dimitri. Your mother takes the two of you in and glances around, a new kind of fear entering her eyes. "Where's Isaias?" "Why is it so dark?" Dimitri asks, his bottom lip poking out. "I dun'wanna go to sleep. I wanna go to the pool!" "He ... went to the police station," you hear Dante murmur behind you, just as Rayna speaks. "What's going on? Was that an explosion?" Rayna inquires, refusing to let her previous question be forgotten. You wince as Dimitri begins to shout louder, adamant on letting everyone know what his five-year-old heart wants.</span> <a data-passage="0.30"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel a tug on your sleeve as something small slips into your hand. Glancing down, you see Camila staring at you with large, dark brown eyes. "Where is Churro?" It dawns on you that the plushie is no longer in your grasp, and though your mind is still far, your gaze travels to the door. Camila is a bright child, and it doesn't take long for her to realize what has become of her favorite toy. She clings to you, mourning the loss of it as fear chokes her up. The air feels like it's being sucked out of the building, providing you all with a feeling of claustrophobia. The explosion on the edge of town, the large near translucent dome that traps you, the ship that now hovers in the sky overhead, and Isaias, who is out there while all of this is happening. Inside the house is no better. Rayna's constant questions, Dante speaking to your mother, Camila's sobs as she attempts to stay quiet. All of it tugs at your brain, giving you a feeling of dizziness and the need to sit down. Ever since walking outside, a peculiar feeling has eased itself onto you, and you've struggled to put a name to it. Now, you finally can. You feel like a pig locked in a pen, watching as the butcher sharpens their knives. "I'm going to the station to get your frère," your mother states. "No, amá," Dimitri cries, throwing his arms around her neck. "No go." "He's a grown man and will be alright," Dante warns. "Don't." She turns to Rayna. "Take Dimitri, and then all of you head to the basement. Lock the door, and don't come out until you hear me say it's safe. Comprendre?" Her words cause Dimitri to latch on even tighter, burying his wails in her shoulder. The young child's sobbing sets off a chain reaction, soon Camila joins in, and even Rayna begins to tear up.</span> [[Grab and comfort Dimitri.|0.30Comfort][$pastAttitude +=5; $gut +=3]] [[Scold your mother.|0.30Scold][$pastAttitude -=5; $mind +=3]] [[Panic.|0.30Panic][$heart +=3]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">Blinking repeatedly you attempt to focus as best you can. None of this will help, though you hardly have any idea what will. The least you can do is calm the younger ones down. You move Rayna out of the way and grab onto Dimitri, bringing him into your arms in one swift move. He seems to accept this, wrapping his arms around you like you are his last lifeline. "I got you," you whisper, rocking him back and forth like how you've seen mother do, and thankfully his squeals turn to hiccups. Camila doesn't leave your side, even as Rayna attempts to coax her off of you. Her arms stay wrapped around your leg, making it difficult to move. Taking your gaze off of them, you look to see your mother nearing the door, Dante's pleas landing on deaf ears. Turning, she grabs your brother by the shoulders, whispering something to him before placing a lingering kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back, je promesa." And with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"You can't just leave us, mamá." "I need to find your frère," she tells you, finally getting Dimitri to let her go and depositing him into Rayna's arms. "He will be fine," you grab onto her hand and squeeze it. "Por favor, don't leave us." "Shh," she whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be back, je promesa.” She whispers it again. "Je promesa. Take care of them until I return." Your sobs fail to sway her and with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">A few kids in school liked to joke about how this is just an invasion. How the aliens will soon start to attack and harvest all of you. The majority didn't believe them, you even had a hard time taking any of it seriously. The trarkrans have been peaceful, no sign of aggression and wanting to only work with terrans from what you've seen. If their wish is to exterminate you, then they'd have just done it. It isn't like Terra could put up much of a fight. You wonder how those kids feel knowing they were right. Your breathing grows rampant and the more you try to control it, the more it grows. The air is suffocating and tears blur your vision as you continue to watch your mother make her way to the door, despite Dante's pleas. Camila squeezes your hand, burying her face in your pants leg to hide her own whimpers. "I'll be right back, je promesa." And with that she goes. You squint your eyes as if this is all but a trick, that she hadn't just walked out that door and that she was still with you.</span> <a data-passage="0.31"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class="flashback"><<if $dante_brave>>"Come on," Dante sniffles, "to the basement." You hear him speak but your eyes never leave that door. Even as you feel someone guiding you, they don't waver until you're pulled into a separate room. You watch as the doors to the basement close and turn your gaze to Dante who stares back at you, his mouth moving but no words breaching his lips.<<else>>You shake your head and clear your throat, "come on, we need to go to the basement." The others begin to move, albeit slowly as their eyes stay fixed on the front door. You hold the door to the basement open for each of them, passing Camila off to Dante as he enters the basement. One last glance and you enter as well, closing the door behind you. It's only when you lock it does your brain slow and you realize that your mother is out there.<</if>> "She left us," you whisper, beginning to heave as the realization washes over you. "No, she didn't," Dante whispers, "d'accord. She's coming back." "She left us like dad did," you gasp, "and Isaias." "Isaias did not leave us, $name," Dante corrects, "he came back." "And then left again!" They keep leaving. Everyone keeps leaving. "They'll both be back," Dante screams at you, as if screaming was the only way to make him believe his own words. He grabs you and pulls you close. You clutch onto him as your fears manifest into shadows that bravely trapeze through your mind. "Don't leave, Dante." "Come on," he jokes with a quivering voice. "I failed first grade to be with you, you're stuck with me. I'll be here. Je promesa."</span> [[“Really? You promise?”|0.31Promise][$promise to true]] [[“Don't promise.”|0.31NoPromise]]
<<if settings.choiceShow>><<notify 5s>>Dante made a promise neither of you are exactly sure he'll be able to keep.<</notify>><</if>>\ <span class="flashback">"Really?" you choke, gazing up at your oldest brother questionably, "do you really promise?" You're about to warn him against such an action when he grabs your hand and squeezes it. "Yes, $name. Je promesa." Another explosion goes off, causing the house to shake and you brace as a few pieces of debris fall from the ceiling. The others are further in, all huddled up and clinging to one another.</span> <<include "0.31.1Promise">>
<span class="flashback">"Don't promise," you choke, shaking your head furiously, "they always promise and they always swear they'll be right back. And they never do. They never come back." Another explosion goes off, causing the house to shake and you brace as a few pieces of debris fall from the ceiling. The others are further in, all huddled up and clinging to one another.</span> <<include "0.31.1Promise">>
<span class="flashback">"Hush little baby, lay down your head," Rayna sings softly. Her voice a whisper, if she sung any softer then she wouldn't even be speaking.</span> [[Which is exactly what she should be doing.|0.31Gut][$gut +=5]] [[If it calms the little two, then so be it.|0.31Mind][$mind +=5]] [[She can continue, it helps you too.|0.31Heart][$heart +=5]]
<span class ="flashback">"Stop it, Rayna," you scold as quietly as you can. "Seriously?" she asks, sending you a heated glare. "I'm actually helping while you're just standing there." "You're not helping. You're making noise." She opens her mouth but Dante hushes her. She glances between the two of you, trying to still her quivering look before glancing away and holding a still sobbing Dimitri closer.</span> <<include "0.32">>
<span class ="flashback">The bigger issue isn't her singing but the little two crying. If this will calm both of them then it will be wise to let her continue on for now. She sings a popular lullaby, though the exact one she sings is in South Midi. Growing up, you heard both this version and the purely English one. Your mother consistently favored the South Midi one, even though her accent made some words sound strange.</span> <<include "0.32">>
<span class ="flashback">Her singing manages to calm part of you down as well and so you say nothing to sway her from the action. All of you can use it right now. She sings a popular lullaby, though the exact one she sings is in South Midi. Growing up, you heard both this version and the purely English one. Your mother consistently favored the South Midi one, even though her accent made some words sound strange.</span> <<include "0.32">>
<span class ="flashback">Each explosion has the five of you pressing closer in, clinging to each other as if the other is a lifeline. Whatever is happening outside feels distant, and yet so personal when you know that two people you care for reside in the fold of it. Despite the side of you that refuses to believe they have met death, you begin to realize that those nearby are all you have left. You will never see Isaias or your mother again. Before these thoughts can latch onto you, the sound of footsteps above echo off the walls and floors. At first, you dare to hope that your mother was successful. She had found Isaias and they've returned. Everything will be okay. Your dark thoughts simply that, a fatalistic attitude to cope. But the low grumblings of a language not yours tells you that hoping is such a silly thing to do. "I want amá!" Dimitri cries, his fit restarting as he does so. Your heart slows as the footsteps above you stop. It is silent for a while before you hear something pulling on the door. <<if $dante_brave>>"Put them under the staircase! Rápido! Rápido!" Dante hisses to you and Rayna, she immediately stands to do so<<else>>"Under the staircase, now. Rápido!" You hiss to the older two. Rayna doesn't hesitate, immediately taking the younger two's hands, about to yank them to the new destination<</if>> when the door suddenly is kicked open. It's too late. The five of you huddle together as the aliens from the television appear. At the moment, the figure wears full body armor, allowing only their general frame to be seen. They make no move to apprehend or kill you, choosing to merely stare. A few seconds of inaction continue until they utter something in their native tongue, moving towards the stairs while their comrades charge towards you. The little two scream at the top of their lungs, kicking and screaming and begging for their mother.</span> [[Fight their hold.|0.32Fight][$heart +=2; $pastAttitude -=5]] [[Tell the two to calm down.|0.32CalmDown][$mind +=2; $pastAttitude +=5]] [[Try to reason with the alien.|0.32Reason][$gut +=2; $tact +=5]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Dark ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">You join them in their attempts to free themselves, refusing to go easy. You believe you hear Dante screaming at you to stop but you don't listen. The more you squirm and thrash, the tighter the grip on your arm becomes. Seeming to have had enough, the trarkran pushes you to the ground, kicking you harshly and causing you to gasp in pain. You hardly have time to register this pain as they yank you back to your feet and force you up the stairs. It feels like you have a few broken ribs, but you're not sure. The only thing you are aware of is the throbbing pain that originates there.</span> @@.center; //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.32Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// @@ <<include "0.33">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Light ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Dimitri. Camila," you scream, "stop. Calm down, okay. Just come on, we're right here with you." Either they don't hear you or they choose not to listen, still struggling and screaming as the aliens push all five of you towards the door.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.32Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.33">>
[[Reason with them forcibly.|0.32ReasonC][$coercer +=1; $pastApproach to 30]] [[Reason with them nicely.|0.32ReasonS][$shamer +=1; $pastApproach to 70]]
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Coercer ++ | Chaotic ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Let me grab them. Let me grab them!" you repeat, reaching for the two while gazing at the alien that holds you. "For fucks sake it'll make this easier, just give them to me." You yell this time, not caring about the consequences that are swiftly handed to you. The alien backhands you, not even allowing you time to recover as they force you up the stairs.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.32Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.33">>
<<if settings.statShow>><span class="stats">Shamer ++ | Lawful ++</span><</if>> <span class ="flashback">"Let me grab them, priega. Priega!" you plead and attempt to reach for the two while gazing at the alien that holds you. "It will make this easier. <<if settings.codexShow>><span class ="chip"><<link 'I vous en priega'>><<dialog 'Codex - Dictionary(SOUTH MIDLAND CREOLE)'>>meaning 'beg' and 'plead.' Usually can be seen in sentences like "I vous en priega" or "I t'en priegas"<</dialog>><</link>></span><<else>>I vous en priega<</if>>." Instead of allowing you this, the alien shoves you forward, giving you a wordless answer as they force you up the stairs.</span> //:: Trigger Warning - The following scene involves the death of a child. If you wish to skip it then [[follow this link here|0.32Alt]], otherwise you may continue reading. ::// <<include "0.33">>
<span class ="flashback">"Let go! Amá!" Dimitri cries, the sound becoming more and more heartbroken the closer you get to the door. For a boy his size, he puts up a valiant fight. He grabs onto a bar of the staircase and hugs onto it, refusing to budge. "Dimitri, stop! Just come on," you say in a pleading tone. Freezing entirely as the sound of a pistol being shot rings throughout the house. The words you had been ready to say die right then and there as you watch Dimitri's limp body fall to the ground, blood pooling from the head wound that he now possesses. You hear your siblings screaming and feel the tightening grip of the alien that guides you. You even notice the change in scenery as you are thrown to the ground along with many others. But that doesn't stop the scene from restarting again and again. Everywhere you look, you see him. You're not sure when you threw up but the bile resting right in front of you and the acidic aftertaste tells you that it indeed happened. You blink, gazing around but finding it hard to register anything. //Focus. Focus.// Each time you repeat the word, you find yourself fading further back. Your body back in the house and kneeling beside a now dead Dimitri. He had been right there, alive and breathing. You hear his scream and see the terror that takes hold of his frame. It's all there and so clear. This can't be real. The feeling of something cold on the back of your head brings you to the now and your surroundings hit you like a pail of ice-cold water. The smell of blood, the sight of dead bodies, screams and explosions both near and far. No. This can't be real.</span> <a data-passage="0.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">"Let go! Mommy!" Dimitri cries, the sound becoming more and more heartbroken the closer you get to the door. For a boy his size, he puts up a valiant fight. He grabs onto a bar of the staircase and hugs onto it, refusing to budge. The next few minutes are hard for you to comprehend. You're not entirely sure what happens. Just that one moment you're inside the house, begging for Dimitri to calm himself and the next, you're outside, surrounded by the pitiful faces of others. Attempting to think back only finds your bewilderment growing. A gun shot ringing out, a body ... your brain allows you to go no further. You blink, gazing around but finding it hard to register anything. //Focus. Focus.// Each time you repeat the word, you find yourself fading further back. This can't be real. The feeling of something cold on the back of your head brings you to the now and your surroundings hit you like a pail of ice-cold water. The smell of blood, the sight of dead bodies, screams and explosions both near and far. No. This can't be real.</span> <a data-passage="0.34"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">You feel like you've been sitting there for a while, watching as the carnage unfolds little by little. Some refused to be subjected to whatever these aliens had planned. Fighting until their last breath, and that last breath always is taken with their face on the pavement as the blood puddle grows around them. Others are dragged out, their legs seeming to have stopped working. Far too many, and yet not enough, all shout and wail for their loved ones, hoping to either spot them or use the last of their energy to cry out their names, for they were already lost. A part of you, the part that refuses to settle on the current happenings, darts through the streets to where your mother and brother might be. Did Isaias make it to the police station? What if they were actually holding the aliens off? What were the odds that your mother was with him? You can so easily envision Isaias's face upon seeing her, a hint of relief, enervation, and fear all working their way through his expressions until he questions her. He'd shout, he'd call her a silly woman … something your father used to say both lovingly and in indignation. You blink, bewildered, as something falls and hits your nose. Your face scrunches as you tilt your head up, met by a few more raindrops from a now open and dome-free sky. The need for it to erase your memories, to take you and drown away the turmoil. Something inside of you begs for this new feeling to wake you up from a nightmare you don't remember lying your head down to experience.</span> <a data-passage="0.35"><img src="images/continue.png" alt="Continue" style="float:right"/></a>
<span class ="flashback">A couple of minutes later, an alien dressed in a far more formal outfit appears, a holographic list in their hands. They ignore the rain that comes down faster while their companions wheeze and hiss. From time to time this more official appearing trarkran will point to someone specific and then in the direction of another group, the underlings will then lead the chosen person away. There is no discernible pattern. Nothing to tell you if you might be chosen next, or if at all. Soon, there are three groups established. You remain in the one with your little sister while Dante stands in another, and Rayna in the third. Attempts to figure out what each group has in common fails. They appear completely random and that scares you further. When the trarkran finishes, they set their list aside and lifts their wrist, typing something and calling upon a number of sizeable pods that gently navigate down from teh sky. The alien behind you grabs you roughly before pushing you towards them, commanding others to follow. You almost slip on the wet asphalt as you attempt to get a quick look at your surroundings. Your group and Dante's are ushered towards these pods but Rayna's remain without. You meet Rayna's eyes and your heart falls as she stares back, a tinge of confused optimism on her face as the rain shower grows worse. You smile back, attempting to at least do that for her as the alien behind her raises their gun and fires. The rain makes quick work of the blood spilled by her and those of her group, but that is simply a belief you choose to have. You see none of this as you're corralled onto the pod. And so it began.</span> <a data-passage="Chapter One"><img class="img-invert" src="images/ch_1.png" alt="Chapter One" style="float:center"/></a>
<<silently>> <<if $markings is "red">> <<set $health +=10>> <</if>>\ <</silently>>