Home is Where the Heat Isn't (Downtime)

[GM Nick]

"You what? "

The disgruntled interrogative belongs to Zdenka. The elf is standing in the hallway of the main house, her angular features askew in a display of consternation. Her arms are folded across her chest, tucked around a fatigue midriff.

Opposite her-- and the recipient of her ire-- is Lafayette, garbed in a Golden Army uniform. Unusually, his face has traded its customary fierce expression for one of slightly embarrassed incredulity. "I had a flush draw, Zee. There was only a six percent chance that--"

Zdenka's eyes roll skyward. "I don't care what hand you had, that's not the point. We could have used that gunboat."

Lafayette finally summons the courage to meet her gaze, lifting his eyes and raising a finger. "I think the troll cheated."

In the blink of an eye, Zdenka lunges forward and delivers a firm karate chop to the dwarf's shoulder. "That isn't the fucking
point!"

A hiss of pain escapes Lafayette and he rubs the spot where the half-hearted attack landed. "I know, Zee, I know. Hear me out: he bet his entire share from Preacher's payout. We could've bought two gunboats with that. It was the--"

Zdenka sighs, looking defeated. "Where'd he go?"

"Said somethin' about poaching cargo ships in San Diego," mumbles Lafayette. "Guess he really is a pirate, after all."

"And Zal?"

The dwarf grimaces, as if experiencing actual pain. He casts around the hallway for support, but finding none says, "Three weeks, latrine and laundry duty."

Zdenka is stupefied. "That's it? For gambling away a gunboat?"

"Chief figures we ain't seen the last of 'im, plus besides he'll probably be hitting Imperial transports anyway."
Lafayette shrugs.

"Just wait until Anne-Marie catches wind of this," quips Zdenka, her eyes accusatory.

Lafayette's composure collapses in defeat. "Aw, come on, Zee..."

[Molly]

Tex's Bar:

"WHAT PART OF IT? THE WAR CRIMES? THE SECRET KIDDY ROOM?" The wry beginnings of a smile twist at the corners of her lips, faced with the absurd scale of the horrors they'd witnessed on the island. (The shiny new caps on the ork's tusks only add to the effect.)

She gives the cork of her own bottle a futile twist, before, as though taking Mick’s cue as instruction, leans over to gnaw at the thing with her own snaggle teeth. This, naturally, is when she's interrupted by Axel's sudden descent into the communal space. The sound makes her jolt, like some child caught in the midst of their mischief, but she once again relaxes upon IDing the intruder. Axel is safe. She greets him with a chipper wave that matches his own apparent energy, almost in defiance of her exhausted, overwhelmed state.

If anything, by some act of kismet, she now shares the room with the two teammates most likely to be sympathetic to her machinations. Axel, out of everyone on this team, might be the only one who could fully grok the implications of their findings, and not assume her to have totally lost her mind. At times, Axel seems to be the only one to speak the same language. He may even be the closest thing she's had to a normal, meatspace friend she's had in years. She doesn't know what to make of that.

Mick, conversely, probably won't get it- not the earth shattering technical revelations, anyway. But that doesn't matter. What they would understand is the burning, quasi-suicidal drive to jab a thumb into the eye of the Saito Regime, no matter the risks. Taipan, or even Yung would likely warn her away from this path of self-destruction. Mick, as enigmatic as the ork might be, may damn well join her.

If anything, Mick’s words almost seem to confirm that. Mouse turns the bottle in her hands in thought, fingertips brushing the classical style portrait adorning the bottle, which otherwise reminded her of some hyper-caffeinated sugar drink. "THIS IS HOW I KNOW I'VE LOST IT, BUT… THERE MIGHT BE A WAY?" She's lowered her volume too, but only slightly. It's almost as if subconsciously, she doesn't actually mind if Axel hears. Maybe part of her wants him to.

"SPEAKING PURELY HYPOTHETICALLY… ZAL DID SAY WE COULD SHARE CREDIT FOR THIS OPERATION..." She dances around her words at first, as though hoping her teammates might pick up on this trail of breadcrumbs, and not any hint that she'd been already toying with this idea. "AND WITH EVERYTHING WE WITNESSED FIRSTHAND…"

Rather than finish this thought, she reaches out for Mick's open bottle, and gives it a cautious sniff. "PROBLEM IS, EVERYTHING WE SAW THAT DAY, IT’S ALMOST TOO CRAZY? DUNNO IF I'D BELIEVE IT IF I HADN'T SEEN IT WITH MY FRAGGING MEAT EYES." Her brow creases. "LIKE, THIS IS BIG- REALLY BIG. BIGGER THAN YUNG’S MOM, BIG." With that, she tips back the bottle, as if to physically drown out her thoughts with its lychee-infused contents.

[John]

Mick's eyes narrow at the exchange, tracing the super-and subtext of Mouse's meaning as best they can. The ork hardly makes note of it when the small elf takes the bottle from them. They reach into their pocket and extract another Alpaca Black, leaving only one more in the pack, and light it up. When had the ork picked smoking back up? Why, since being trapped in a fascist state, of course! The ork is nodding faintly as Mouse muses on the gravity of what they'd seen. Mick doesn't know if the warcrimes on display at Alcatraz Island were bigger than Yung's mom, but they certainly seemed big. Was that all the decker had meant, though?

Taking a drag from the Alpaca, the ork's thoughts race as their emotions play unconsciously at their lips, a flipbook of expressions flitting by on their features. "Yeah, 'bout not believing it if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes..." They lean forward, not certain what kind of surveillance Tex might have installed throughout his own compound. "What if somebody had been, say, recording a BTL of the whole thing?"

[Molly]

It takes the entirety of Mouse’s willpower but she manages to not pull a literal spittake at this new information. Instead, she pulls the bottle to one side, slamming a a hand over her mouth just in time to send the very expensive vodka on a burning path toward her nose instead. "THE WHOLE-" She catches herself between soft coughs, immediately dropping her volume to a more comparable value. "THE WHOLE FUCKING THING?"

She leans back, dragging her hand down down her face as she fights to compose herself, and to process the enormity of the suggestion. A barely audible breath of both understanding and impressed incredulity manages to escape. "Fuck…" She forces her gaze toward the ork’s, as though in need of some unspoken confirmation that Mick is not, in fact, shitting her right now, before forcing herself into a slow nod as she looks for the right words. "I MEAN, YEAH, THAT’D DO IT. BUT…" Another deep breath. Another near-imperceptible "...fuck me…"

She places the bottle on the floor beside her, eyes trailing back upward. "THEY’D HAVE THEIR WORK CUT OUT FOR THEM, JUST SCRUBBING THE WHOLE THING. ANY RESIDUAL ‘FINGERPRINTS’ COULD PUT A TARGET ON THE BACKS OF EVERYONE INVOLVED." Without thinking, she finds herself biting hard on her lip, as though fighting her own temptations. "IT’S THE SORT OF THING A ‘PROFESSIONAL’ WOULD TELL YOU TO JUST BURN. ‘NOT WORTH THE RISK’ AND ALL THAT."

Her eyes flutter shut as she shakes her head slowly. "THERE’S A REASON I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL."

[John]

Mick's eyes dart to Axel, then return to Mouse. "Yeah, I'd expected to record a fight or two that some BTL-head would get off on. Instead..." Mick frowns. "Is there a way to.. I don't know– like, draw buttholes over everybody's faces or something? Maybe a penis that's not large enough to be useful over Yung's?" The ork pantomimes a gesture that may, in some vague way, be related to the suggestion.

[Molly]

The proposition is enough to draw out a genuine smile. "THAT’S DEFINITELY HOW I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED." She gives a slow wave of her hand, as though picturing the splashy AR headlines: "’SAITO REGIME TOPPLED BY SIX ASSHOLES AND A CHODE.’"

"OF COURSE, IT’S MORE THAN JUST DISGUISING FACES. IT’S BUILDS, VOICES, EVEN THE WAY YOU WALK. ALL THIS DREK ADDS UP." Her eyes flit back to the ork, almost eager to correct herself. "IT’S NOT THAT IT’S IMPOSSIBLE. IT’S JUST… A LOT. AND IF I FRAG IT UP, WE'RE GONNA HAVE A BAD TIME." She can’t help but let her gaze drift toward Axel on this thought. "...INCLUDING THOSE OF US WHO NEVER SIGNED OFF ON THIS."

[Drew Buddy]

Axel briefly turns back to his mess masquerading as a repair project, but pauses as he strains to overhear Mouse. The implications of what she's saying both excite and terrify him, but he finds himself nodding along. It's then that he hears–almost misses–Mick's low mumble that finally makes his eyes snap back up to consider the room again. For a moment, his face mirrors Mouse's, and then he throws his head back and lets out a belly laugh.

"Frag me! You've got a beetle of the whole goddamn thing? As in, the full run of an imperial blacksite, a bunch of Saito's top marines having their asses handed to them by some thugs from Seattle, and... Whatever the hell that nightmare in the basement was. All of it? " He asks incredulously, eyes finally focusing on Mick and regarding them with a fear and awe commensurate with discovering a hormonal teenager playing with a thermonuclear weapon inside Fort Knox.

He thinks for a moment, and continues, "Almost all of my gear is drek I found in the Barrens. Often comes preloaded with someone else's account that they didn't think to deactivate." He absentmindedly waves a hand at the disassembled console as if to demonstrate. "That means that my digital signature, biometrics, the whole works are a kaleidoscope of data belonging to at least a couple dozen other people. The others on our team I'd worry about. But me? Frag it, I'm in," he finishes with a ruthless grin and a renewed fire in his eyes.

A message appears then in the corner of his vision, and he jots off a quick response.

<< Many thanks, A-M. I'll go by the clinic tonight. >>

[ReiyaEmm]

Vision Quest in the Sauna: Part II

Ready to begin, Yung grabs one of the teacups, holding it out in front of himself, over the heat radiating off of the stones. He locks eyes with Reiya, waiting for her instruction or any final words.

"No tea yet," she cautions with another smile. "Let yourself relax first. I’ll say some preliminary invocations, and tell you when and how to pour and drink."

The shaman sets her hands on either side of her body, palms flat on the ground and facing away from herself. Instead of closing her eyes, Reiya looks up at the ceiling, letting her imagination depict the natural landscape around them and far beyond. "I give thanks to the Sun, the Creator, the Life-Giver, the World-Maker. I give thanks to Grandfather, Old Man, the Moons, and the Night Light. I give thanks to Grandmother, Old Woman, the Morning Star, and the Early Riser. I give thanks to the Backbone of the World." This is just the beginning; Reiya rattles off a litany of deities, elemental forces, and spirits, imagining each in her mind’s eye. After this recital, she adds gravely, "I give thanks to Sanasatasamara, for passage, for aid, and for her welcome." She breathes deeply, remembering her communion with the gentle earth spirit. Before proceeding, she asks Yung quietly, "are there spirits you wish to name and thank?"

Yung appears concerned by the question posed by Reiya. "Um, well, I’ve never really been one to think about spirits like that, I’ve always tried to find spirit within myself." He looks slightly ashamed for a moment before his eyes go wide with realization. "There is the wolf, but I don’t know the spirit's name. It’s been with me since…" He trails off, looking to the shaman for a reaction.

The shaman smiles and improvises. "We give thanks to the Wolf, loyal friend and guardian to us both. We offer thanks and ask for your protection and blessing on this, our quest." She breathes deeply, feeling the presence of these spirits as if they were beside her, without any assensing required. Satisfied, she turns to the tea. "Grandfather Peyote, we partake of your essence. Guide us on our journeys, and help us to find our true selves."

The shaman turns to Yung. "Pour the tea in your cup first, and offer it to the sky. Then pour that cup out before filling ours."

Yung follows Reiya’s instructions, filling his cup and raising it towards the roof before pouring out over the coals. The tea infused steam rises up to the ceiling of the sauna. "Seems fitting eh? Offering to the sky." He smiles slightly, looking for some sign of approval.

Reiya nods her agreement. "Now, place the teapot between us, with the lid open. Then take your tea, hold it up as an offering, and drink." She demonstrates, draining her cup rapidly and setting it down with a wry smile. "Yup. Still tastes awful."

Once again filling his cup, Yung raises the cup up once more, before putting it to his lips and drinking the contents in one large gulp. He attempts to stifle a gag as best he can, resulting in a small coughing fit.

"Gross, isn’t it?" Reiya sympathizes. "It’ll take a couple hours to take effect, so just relax, and feel free to talk," Reiya advises. "In an hour or so we’ll ascend to the Astral Realm and I’ll bring you to the Empty Plains. It’s always a good place to start."

Yung lets out a sigh, closing his eyes and bowing his head for a moment as two figures sit in silence. After a moment's contemplation, he lifts his head, a steely gaze connecting with Reiya. "I don’t belong here, not like them. You fit, but your actions seem justified somehow. The other’s, they do this so easily, I don’t belong." He pauses briefly, attempting to read the subtle reactions of the shaman. He raises his arms out wide in gesture to their surroundings. "Yet here I am, the last place I want to be, about to lose a part of myself in the hopes of becoming whole again, a paradox, ne? Have you ever been faced with such a situation?"

"Oh yes," Reiya readily admits. "That’s part of the reason I’m running around with you drekheads." She lets her head fall back, pondering. "But I don’t really feel like I fit in, either. I have a role to play, sure, as the resident magic user. We all have our roles, you included. You’ve just pissed the others off more than I have. At least, so far." She pauses once more. "Honestly, I don’t think any of us are really doing what we’re doing easily. I think we’re all here because we have to be, whether we’re running away, running toward, needing money or intel or whatever. But we’ve done a couple jobs together now, and are starting to build some connections at least. Look at us, after all, literally stripped down and going on a quest." The shaman has taken peyote enough times to know when it’s starting to settle into her system, and laughs. "So I get really talkative as I start to feel it, as I’m sure you figured out." They are companionably quiet for a time, both focusing on their bodies’ respective reactions. "Are you starting to feel the medicine take hold?"

At the break in prolonged silence, Yung’s eyes become saucers. "Did you know your words are yellow, when did that happen?" He says, a wolfish grin overtaking his face. He sticks his tongue out several times, seeming to lick the air. "My words are green, and they taste like…" He flicks his tongue out in a lizard-like fashion again, "peanut butter." He smacks his lips loudly, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

"Yeah, it’s definitely time," Reiya decides with an amused grin. "Grab some more water and get comfortable." Reiya drinks heavily from her own pitcher, sets it down, and sits cross-legged again. "When you’re ready, enter the Astral Plane and just hang out there. Don’t search for anything yet. Get used to being there without searching for anything, which can be surprisingly difficult." She suppresses a grin but not the memories that come with it: her endless failures to be patient when being told the same thing as a child. But then she’s in the Astral Realm herself, settling into the sense of being not only surrounded by, but within the magic.

Get comfortable. He finds it difficult to move, still trying to process the litany of instructions. His eyes drift slowly to the pitcher of water as he once again begins smacking his lips. He reaches for the jug, which seems oddly far away, but somehow his arm stretches out, impossibly long, and skinny. When did I get so skinny. He wraps his fingers around the handle and draws it toward his mouth. It takes him a moment to perform the simultaneous action of opening his mouth and tilting the pitcher; eventually he manages. As the water trickles down his throat he almost gets pulled down with the flow, the only thing that saves him is the cough that sends droplets of water onto Reiya’s face. "Sorry." He says, suppressing a laugh.

"Jackass," murmurs Reiya in gentle amusement, unperturbed by the sudden spray. "Take a breath and regain your focus." She gives Yung several minutes to get accustomed to this, while she does the same, letting her sense of the Plane build.

The walls stretch out for Yung, and Reiya seems to be moving away, without moving. A sudden sense of fear starts to flourish in his stomach. Where’s she going? He is overcome with the desperate sensation to get up and run after her. He yells out “Where are you going!” Flinching at his own voice, as the sound waves reverberate aggressively off the walls and back towards him. He can feel his heart beating wildly, no he can see it, the ripple of molecules displaced by the heavy thumping. Reiya is so far away, but still she hasn’t moved. She doesn’t speak, but he hears her voice, Don’t search for anything. Then she’s gone. He draws in a purple breath, his heartbeat begins to slow. Finally, he closes his eyes. You must learn to see with eyes unclouded. Then, in the Astral Realm, she approaches Yung’s spirit and taps it, building a link between them. Her astral self steps away. "Can you follow me?" she asks.

"I thought I lost you for a second," Yung says, relieved. He attempts to walk to Reiya, but it doesn’t work. His legs simply churn. A look of concern flashes across his face before it is replaced with determination. "Yes, I can." He says, willing the words into action. Suddenly he finds himself next to the shaman. He looks down at his legs with a flash of suspicion.

"Nicely done." The shaman begins to guide Yung through the Astral Realm, charting a course she knows well. Past trees, caves, rivers and cliffs she leads him. She’s not only traveling through a known landscape, but visualizing and constructing it for Yung, showing him a small sampling of what is possible. He’ll build his own soon enough, but this tour and guidance should help get him started.

Finally, they arrive in a seemingly endless plain of simple grasses, stretching for miles. "You can probably see why this is called the Empty Plains," she quips, amused. "It’s not necessarily as empty as it seems. But it’s a good place to start." Her astral form makes a wide gesture of welcome to Yung’s, and then waves. "I wish you a safe and fruitful journey," she replies, reassuming her formal tone of voice. "Call my name if you find yourself in need."

[John]

Tex's Bar:

Mick regards Axel's easy eagerness to throw in on this plan with surprise and only the briefest pang of suspicion as a grin draws the corners of their lips taut. Now in the throes of a full-on conspiracy, the ork keeps their tone low. "I'm no go at this tech drek. I can't run the matrix for much more than directions to the nearest watering hole and 4-am tacos." Not for the first time, Mick finds themself frustrated by the wall that always slammed down between them and the kind of fiddly technical understanding that always wriggled out of their grasp. "What do we do from here?"

[Molly]

With Axel's vocal support for these shenanigans, the decker breaks into a snaggletooth grin. "PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAUGHT THAT ONE MOOK WHO NOPE'D INTO THE BAY. I COULD WATCH THAT ON LOOP." It's almost like the atmosphere has become infinitely lighter, with an unfamiliar emotional buoyancy that feels suspiciously hope-like. Maybe it's just the contagion of laughter, or maybe it's the unexpected upswell of support from her crew, and the knowledge that her plans no longer going behind their collective backs- only about half of them.

"FIRST QUESTION, I GUESS: WHO ELSE ARE WE DRAGGING INTO THIS MESS?" She holds out several fingers, curling them down as she rules out remaining members of the team. "LIKE I SAID, I IMAGINE THE PROFESSIONAL TYPES ARE GOING TO HATE THIS PLAN." Feeling no need to elaborate just who this might be, she charges forward, bending a second finger. "...AS WILL ANYONE WHO LIKES TO PRETEND THEY'RE A PROFESSIONAL."

She hesitates here. "OF COURSE, IF THIS DREK TAKES OFF, EVERYONE ON THIS RANCH WILL KNOW WHICH CHUCKLEFUCKS TO BLAME. NOT A LOT OF FOLKS OUT THERE OFFERING TOURS OF SAITO'S KIDDY DUNGEON." Her teeth graze her lip again in deliberation. "WE MIGHT WANT TO SAY SOMETHING, JUST DEFUSE THAT DRAMA BOMB BEFORE IT GOES OFF IN OUR FACES."

[John]

Mick's lips purse as they attempt to be a useful member of the conversation from this point. "Can't we just scrub anything that identifies us?"

[Molly]

She folds her arms tightly across her chest, lapsing back into thought as she struggles to more clearly phrase her own concern. "THAT WAS ALWAYS THE PLAN. MY QUESTION IS WHETHER OR NOT WE LOOP IN THE REST OF OUR OWN TEAM. IF THIS DREK DEFIES THE ODDS AND TAKES OFF, THEY'RE GOING TO KNOW IT WAS OUR DOING, AND THEY'RE NOT GOING TO LIKE BEING BLINDSIDED."

[Drew Buddy]

Axel nods. "Yeah, if we want to stay a team, probably best to try to strongarm the others into agreeing with this plan. Would it make sense to transfer the BTL to a flatvid? Between media type transfer and recompression, it might make the, uh, finer details less useful."

He pulls the umbrella out of the bottle's neck, and finishes the drink in a long pull, before getting up to retrieve another.

[John]

Mick cocks their brow and suggests, "I've always found it better to ask for forgiveness..." They scan their compatriots. "You know. If I ask at all." But the ork's good humor spoils as they think of Taipan.

[GM Nick]

The Empty Plains are a fluid landscape, an infinite organism with a million million flagellum. Yung can feel their lifeforce. It's not unlike the sensation of heat, except that it permeates his corporeality and rests on the bosom of his soul. Thoughts-- disjointed from larger ideas, but still inter-connected-- buzz across his conscious mind like static electricity. Unity. Energy. Integration.

In a mind's eye that's both present and also spread across the vastness of creation, he bears witness to the lifecycle of trees, the awesome power of the oceans, the warmth of stone, and a soundless chorus of cells. A single, powerful revelation reaches through the sedation of his higher-thinking: everything is moving, changing always. Everything is made of death. Everything is made of birth.

A kind of sad euphoria settles over Yung, not unlike fond memories of a deceased loved one. This new form of experience is so genuine that it both enthralls and terrifies him. The confidence inherited from his recent trysts with danger allow him to let the rampaging emotions pass through him.

It's at this moment that something catches Yung's attention amid the wavering grasses. At first he dismisses it as a stalk of dead chaff, swaying in the source-less, mystical wind. A second glance confirms what he knew deep down: it's a tail. A wolf's tail.

Sure enough, a lean and supernaturally large wolf is slinking...? No, strolling through the grass, as if at home here. The creature only acknowledges him with a single toss of its muzzle. A shivering sensation assails Yung. He imagines that somewhere, a billion lightyears away in a sauna, his body has goosebumps. The sudden compulsion to follow the wolf springs from his guts-- a primal instruction of inexorable nature.

[Molly]

Tex's Bar

"FLATVIDS ARE TOO EASY TO FAKE. IF WE WANT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY, WE NEED EVIDENCE WITH MORE CREDIBILITY THAN A RULE 34 DEEPFAKE." She taps a finger against her arm. "I CAN CUT DOWN THE BTL TO ITS MOST RELEVANT ‘CLIPS’- THE DREK THAT NEEDS TO BE EXPERIENCED FIRST HAND. THAT WAY, THERE’S LESS TO EDIT, AND I CAN OMIT ANYTHING THAT WOULD BE ABUSED BY GURO-CHASERS."

In making such considerations, one might almost mistake Mouse for an ethical person, at least until she sheepishly adds, "-OR ANY OTHER IRRELEVANT EXPERIENCES." Because the last thing the matrix needs is a permanent, first-hand record of the world’s most awkward hug.

For once, she almost seems eager to dive out of the weedy, technical considerations, and to the far less comfortable, squishy social ones. "REIYA’S PROBABLY THE EASIEST SELL, EVEN IF WE’D HAVE TO EXPLAIN THE MATRIX TO HER IN THE PROCESS." The decker offers up a half-smile at this, appropriate for the fact that she’s at best, half-joking. "BUT I’LL BET SHE’D BE DOWN TO FRAG OVER SOME FASCISTS." Her mind drifts to their previous conversations, her previous requests, the tablet from the medical block that as of now, still needs to be parsed.

"I MIGHT JUST MESSAGE OJI RIGHT BEFORE THE DROP, AND BRACE MYSELF FOR THE INEVITABLE LECTURE." She cringes visibly, with the squirming air of a child who has to tell their parents about a broken window. "YUNG… NO IDEA. ALMOST THINK HE’D TAKE THE NEWS BETTER COMING FROM… SOMEONE WHO ISN’T ME?"

"I DOUBT THE BIG MAN WILL MIND, ASSUMING ANYONE CAN FIND HIM." On this thought, her lips once again curl in wistful amusement. "AS A GREAT MAN ONCE SAID, ‘DO WHAT YOU WANT, ‘CAUSE A PIRATE IS FREE.’ THAT’S AS GOOD AS A ‘YES’ IN MY BOOK."

[John]

Mick nods along, agreeing with her assessments as Mouse rattles them off. Smirking, they reply, "Pretty sure I'm not the one to get through to Yung. From what I've seen, maybe only Reiya has managed to cut through his thick wall of bullshit for even a moment?" The ork can't help but roll their eyes at the thought of Yung's performative swagger. "Frankly? I don't much care how he feels about it. I've watched him stick his nose in shit for no apparent reason enough times that the idea of sticking it there for him– and for a good reason– doesn't wrinkle my hoop any." The ork's eyes search between Mouse and Axel, the obvious odd man out the primary focus of their concern. "My only problem is Taipan. There's a lotta ways I can't stand the guy, but I respect him..." Mick trails off a moment, electing to hold back the real problem– that Mick does just respect the erstwhile samurai, but actually likeshim for some damned reason, and wants him to at least respect them back. But it's what's held back that finally sways the adept's thinking. With a heavy sigh, they continue: "I think we tell him. I don't think we ask him for his permission, but we owe him advanced warning. I can't see him being happy with it, but I don't want him to feel like I fucked him." Mick looks from Mouse to Axel and back again, hoping that they'll see it the same way.

[GM Nick]

In the near-darkness of Blue Dog's orchard, Taipan is just one shadow among a plethora. The steely-eyed street samurai navigates row upon row of twisting branches, awash with the aroma of loam. The subtle rustle of shifting leaves are the only evidence of his passing.

Taipan pauses at the sudden emergence of a shaft of bluish light. A figure steps past the tree behind which Taipan stands motionless. It's a member of Blue Dog's security detail, no doubt. As the figure steps past, Taipan scans the grunt. With the practice afforded by countless insertions, he gauges the man's build, gait and posture, and mentally notes the coverage of the body armor, as well as the rifle slung over his torso. Taipan isn't without sympathy-- here's another man just doing his job, quite possibly undeserving of the fate that he has been consigned to.

Gomen nasai, kyodai, Taipan thinks.

It only takes an instant. Taipan leads with his left foot, stepping forward and then twisting his hip to generate impulse-momentum. The security guard grunts as the kashira of Taipan's katana makes contact with the hollow underneath his ear. The force delivered-- tempered by Taipan's expertise-- is not enough to fracture the temporal bone. It is, however, enough to render the man unconscious; as Taipan intended. His eyes roll upward, irises disappearing underneath eyelids. Taipan kneels, gently catching the guard's body and guiding it to the ground.

Taipan follows through steps he's repeated countless times: roll the target on their side, check for breathing, secure the arms across the chest. He wrangles the guard's weapon free and ejects the magazine before tossing it into the darkness. The rifle's charging handle clacks as Taipan ejects the chambered round. Content that his getaway has been rendered clean, Taipan stands.

The veil of the night sky is obscured by a labyrinth of branches and for that Taipan is thankful. The endless, unimpeded horizon of this place induces acute agoraphobia in him. Danger could come from any place, at any time. It's a depressing rumination that he is most comfortable in the sterile corridors and utilitarian rooms of Corporate enclaves, but that's just the way it is. He allows himself one last look over his shoulder, in the direction his GPS indicates the chateau lies in.

Will they miss him? Taipan isn't sure. The decent thing would've been to announce his departure. A part of him-- that frail warble of humanity-- chides him for his behavior. He fought and bled alongside them, didn't he owe them an explanation? No, replies the voice of cold, unfeeling rationality. It's just business. Besides, he has something to take care of; something pressing and something that would be hampered by attachments. They'll understand.

The ranch's exterior fence rattles under his weight as Taipan effortlessly scales it. If I see them again, he thinks, I'll explain everything. Before the first sliver of daylight hits the vineyard, the street samurai will be long gone.

[Drew Buddy]

Axel nods along before breaking back into the conversation.

"Look, one way or another, this needs to get out." He stands up and start pacing. "I've said it before, let me say it again, I don't belong here. I'm just some schlub from Sea-Tac who's experience with violence never got above shooting gel cap rounds at gangers and the occasional 'Star to keep them off my hoop. What I'm saying, is that getting a guy like me in a place like this—a full frontal assault on an Imperial Black site—is a one-in-a-billion kind of event." There's a need in his eyes now, a burning drive that threatens to drive him mad if it goes unfulfilled. "I can't just walk away from what we saw back there. It might never come to light otherwise." His pacing stops, and his expression sobers into something bordering on sheepish as he glances between the two runners. An up-welling of undesired responsibility almost threatens to topple him before he accepts it. "Let me handle Yung," he finishes simply.

[ReiyaEmm]

Reiya parts from Yung and walks along the silent plains for a time. Even with a deep night sky above, the silence is eerie, and would trouble Reiya if she didn’t know it to be an illusion. Soon enough, a short-tailed nighthawk flies overhead. Not long after, Reiya hears the sounds of small mammals scurrying through the brush, Finally, trees materialize as if simply hidden behind fog, and Reiya senses the familiar, almost inaudible padding of a wolf pack. Reiya smiles. While she has no idea if this is how the vision begins for most, it is always how a vision-quest opens for her.

The forest on either side of her invites exploration, but she continues straight along the plains, visualizing where she wants to go. Gradually, the trees of her native landscape fall away, and the landscape closely resembles the path she and her team took to get into California. When she sees the cave ahead, Reiya restrains her urge to break into a run, but she can’t suppress a grin. She quickens her pace slightly, but she knows that even a joyful run could change the vision to a more fearful tableau.

The shaman enters the cave and walks slowly, trailing her fingers against the cave. It feels as solid as if she were back in the physical realm, but she feels it stabilize, and then begin to glow. She stops and waits, and soon enough, a shape appears before her. An Amerind woman like herself, with a timeless face, dressed in simple but traditional Blackfeet garb, smiling broadly. "Sanasatasamara," Reiya intones in wonder and delight, walking forward to embrace the spirit’s human shape.

Reiya and the spirit talk for what seems like hours. The shaman laughs, sobs, and talks endlessly with the spirit, telling her of her grief, her quest, and her team of fellow miscreants. She knows she can afford to be unguarded here, as the spirit will keep this vision locked as is until Reiya departs. Hesitant to leave, it is Sanasatasamara who tells her to go. "You’ve more to do here, little one," she reminds her gently.

Nodding agreement and shouldering her burdens again, Reiya stands and embraces the earth spirit once more. "I will return," she promises.

"I know it, little one," the spirit replies, smiling. "And when you call, I will come to you."

Reiya bows to the spirit and walks through the cave without looking back. By the time the cave opening appears, the next landscape is already in place. It’s one she knows quite well: a dense forest, with just enough starlight to see by. She walks unerringly to a large tree, though the journey takes her a few hours in vision-time. It is a huge oak, large enough to hold a small house, but it is not a spirit, nor its home. Nonetheless, it is where they will meet. Reiya sits down and waits for that meeting.

[GM Nick]

A minute passes. Or perhaps it's a day? It's impossible to tell. Time has little influence on this place, as if left behind in the physical moorings that are their bodies. As the not-quite-sky wheels across the dream horizon, Reiya becomes aware of a restlessness rising from within her-- an emotional inertia-- born from the magnetism of her link to her mentor. Before she can reconcile the desire, her feet are churning soil. The forest becomes thicker. Older.

Reiya stops abruptly under a particularly impressive gnarled tree. While she knows intellectually that the tree does not exist on the material realm, it is no less real to her. The bark is smooth and warm under her palm. If she concentrates, she can see through the skin of her hand. She watches the steady march of blood vessels through the meandering veins within, watches as the ambrosia of her own life trickles into the trunk.

"You've been to many places," someone remarks. The timbre of the speaker is pitched, but its the quality that betrays identity: a voice like the rubbing of leathery wings, rife with the weariness of the far-traveled. "And have many places to go still."

Bat has no material form here, not that Reiya can see. Instead she feels the spirit, orbiting her in a lazy trajectory. The restless feeling flares in Reiya's breast, transcends, becomes a sort of euphoric excitement.

"We made a new friend, I see."

[Molly]

Axel starts his speech in a flurry of motion, and yet somehow, Mouse's instinct is to force her attention away, to indulge a sudden interest in the panels of the floor. The riggers words almost seem to scatter outward, like shrapnel embedding themselves into her consciousness from every conceivable direction.

The problem is, he's absolutely right.

"IN SOME FRAGGED UP WAY, IT FEELS ALMOST LIKE BONGOLAND, DOESN’T IT?" Here, her eyes cast upward between strands of her own hair as she forces herself to approach his gaze. "THOUGH MAYBE THAT JOB MADE MORE SENSE. AT LEAST IT WAS CLOSER TO HOME. JUST DIRTY WORK FOR A FEW MONTHS' RENT- NOTHING WE DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR."

She scratches a fingernail idly against the floorboards now. "BUT THIS… DO ANY OF US REALLY MAKE SENSE HERE?"

There's a pregnant pause, and she can feel the blood rushing back to her head, a sudden weight in her chest.
"SPEAKING OF DREK THAT MIGHT NEVER COME TO LIGHT…" Now she's done it- she's cracked the lid of pandora's box, starting a conversational momentum. She can barely hear her own synths over her heartbeat. "THAT BASEMENT. I- I THINK I KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING DOWN THERE, IN THAT KID'S ROOM."

Mouse swallows hard, finding herself freshly unable to look at the faces of her teammates, and keenly aware of how insane she's inevitably going to sound. "YOU EVER HEAR OF THE OTAKU?"

[Drew Buddy]

Axel gives a quizzical look. "Like those Japanese kids who don't leave their apartments"? He asks innocently, a hopeful expression on his face. Just let something be normal for once. The moment stretches. "Yeah, that's not what you're talking about, is it?"

[ReiyaEmm]

"Jealous, are you?" Reiya asks with a grin, knowing that her mentor spirit appreciates a bit of informal banter. "No need. Friend is the right word for her."

But is it? The way the two of you talked just now was almost familial, as if you were aunt and niece rather than newly acquainted. Are you trying to replace your dead family with a long-lived spirit, far less likely to die and leave you behind?

The thoughts come upon Reiya as if they were the words of the Bat, but she knows this is not the case. Nevertheless, she can’t hide them from her mentor either, and doesn’t try to. "I was a wreck last time I came here, wasn’t I? Boiling with rage, and not allowing myself to grieve. You were right to refuse me then."

The shaman thinks over the last few months, and the two runs with her new crew; what she’s learned, what they’re like, in essence providing a truncated set of images for the Bat to follow. "I can’t say I’ve abandoned vengeance. But I have found some purpose, and some new skills. I’ve learned a lot, working with those who are not my Blackfeet brethren, something I never expected to do. I’m building bonds with these people—with some more than others—and they may be able to help me learn the source of that apocalypse. And keep it from happening to other communities."

Her excitement grows as she speaks, but then Reiya pauses, thoughtful for a moment before laying out her request. "This path will keep me traveling, learning, exploring, as you have long encouraged me to do. I think it has the potential to heal me, and help many." She gives a wry smile, sure the Bat can see it. "I won’t deny it’ll also involve hurting and killing some. I think it’s worth it. But I do need to be stronger. I need my craft to be stronger. I’m wondering if you are willing to help me."

[Molly]

Well, if anything could pull her out of her overwhelming sense of dread, it was that. Suddenly finding herself called out, a familiar alcoholic bloom brushes heat across her cheekbones. "AH- NO. THAT'S JUST WHAT LOSERS DO."

She takes a deep breath and starts again, clearly struggling to find her narrative footing. "THE 'OTAKU' WERE BORN WITH A CERTAIN GIFT THAT LET THEM INTERFACE WITH THE MATRIX ON A PURE, INTUITIVE LEVEL."
She laces her fingers together, as if in demonstration.
"THEY COULD INJECT CODE AND WIELD EXPLOITS WITHOUT EVEN NEEDING A DECK. ALL THEY NEEDED WAS A.S.I.S.T. AND THEIR OWN IMAGINATIONS.
" She's dating herself here with the old terminology, 'ASIST' being the most basic of simsense interfaces from the days of pre-crash terminals.

There's a distance to her gaze now, as though she's reaching deep into her own memories. "MORE THAN THAT, THEY COULD BEND AND SHAPE THE VERY FOUNDATIONS OF A HOST, AS THOUGH THEY WERE SCULPTING STATUES OUT OF THE EARTH ITSELF." Her eyes widen, her expression laced with a mix of awe and envy.

Abruptly, she drags her focus back to earth, to the teammates she's subjecting to this infodump, her lips tightening in newfound gravity. "THE OTAKU HAD ONE THING IN COMMON: THEY WERE ALL KIDS." She pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them almost protectively as she lets this sink in.

Her eyes drift shut momentaily, head once again lolling to one side in her musing. "THING IS, I THOUGHT THEY'D DIED OUT IN THE CRASH, BUT APPARENTLY SAITO'S BEEN KEEPING ONE LOCKED IN HIS BASEMENT."

The moment doesn't last long, as she snaps back to attention, trying to read the faces of the runners before her. "THAT SAID, IF YOU ALL JUST THINK I'M NUTS, NOW'S THE TIME TO SAY SOMETHING, 'CAUSE IT ONLY GETS WORSE FROM HERE."

[GM Nick]

Reiya senses the fluttering reverberations of laughter. As it fades, the sensation of hands on her shoulders sends a thrill up her back. Bat's tone shifts, seems to become more somber and earnest.

"You carry your grief in both hands. How will you hold your new friends?"

The blanket of stars pulls taut and Reiya's toes lift from the ground. They ascend, steadily climbing past the forest canopy and into the not-sky. The boughs of the multitudinous trees have re-arranged themselves in a simulacrum of the Seattle skyline. It's a psychedelic diorama of urbanity. Reiya concentrates, studying the life-force ebbing and flowing through the individual flora.

"I will always help you, so long as you follow the path," Bat intones.

Reiya feels a slight pressure on her feet. "You travel with these." The phantom force departs her feet, but returns to a spot behind her breast and within her head. "When you should also travel with these."

The stars dim, sheathing the vista in shadow. The sensation of an embrace-- of being cradled-- returns. "Do you not see that they walk with you?" Suddenly, it isn't just two arms holding her, it's two thousand. The shadow contorts, deforming into the form of a bat. Twin points of light form eyes, from which spring a geometry of fractal fire. In every arm of the infinite, swirling mass, Reiya can see silhouettes of The Ancestors dancing. "I will lend you my power."

A warmth blossoms in Reiya's womb. The hoots and cries of The Ancestors are audible now and together they form a chorus that becomes the thundering of hooves and the crashing of waves and the grinding of mountains. A tree springs from Reiya's navel, but there is no pain. In fact, she feels elation. The tree grows until it fills the sky. Branches spread, plunging into the flames; and from those branches grow buds, which flower and grow fruit. And all at once the fruiting pods burst like fireworks.

When Reiya opens her eyes she finds herself seated on the forest floor. She feels different, but it's not an uncomfortable feeling. Bat is still there-- Reiya can feel her gaze.

[MattL]

Despite the compulsion to follow, Yung can’t help but feel a mix of guilt and apprehension. As though being called to the Principal’s office, but not knowing why. He begins moving through the grass, feeling the stalks brush against his legs. They are strangely warm, and don’t impart the tactile sensation he was expecting, it feels more like he is wading through warm water.

He calls out to Wolf, "What do I do here?" only to hear his question echo through his mind ‘What do I do here…what do I do here…what do I do here…’ He reacts primally, shaking his head as if to try and get the words out. Suddenly, to his surprise a string of letters comes pouring out of his ear transforming into the words he just spoke.

He stops walking for a moment, pulling his head back in surprise as he watches the letters drift out of his head and towards Wolf.

What…do…I…do…here? The question mark is unbound, tumbling in the air as it follows the preceding words and letters. The question rides through the air like a wave, cresting and falling until it reaches Wolf and rides along the tip of it’s tail and up the curves of the spirits back until the 'What' sits atop Wolf’s head and the rest of the statement stretches out along its spine; the question mark spinning curiously around Wolf’s tail.

Wolf looks back at Yung, who’s only instinct is to cover his mouth with both hands and start walking towards the spirit again.

[GM Nick]

Wolf leads Yung to a steep precipice overlooking a tranquil sea. The nameless ocean glitters in some arbitrary light source, looking for all the world like an endless expanse of sapphires. The spirit stops near the edge and sits back on its haunches.

Yung watches the wolf's ears flick and swivel, as a real animal's would. He's not sure what he was expecting, but finds himself surprised with how life-like the spirit's manifestation is. He resists the sudden impulse to reach out and stroke its fur, despite a deep desire to do so. The ridiculous nature of this dilemma catalyzes a mirth deep within him and it's all he can do to suppress the laughter that results. Instead he coughs a bit and moves to stand next to the grand creature.

Wolf's eyes are firmly fixed on the horizon. The spirit seems stern, but there's a nobility that radiates from it that strikes Yung as kingly. Truly, this is the embodiment of leadership. "Have you found your pack?"

It seems to be a rhetorical question. Yung remains silent.

"The hunted man has departed. The pack is vulnerable. Fractured. They will need a leader. The pack will look to you."

[John]

Tex's Bar

Mick chuckles softly. "It's like a buddy of mine says, 'it gets worse before it gets worse.'" The ork tries to wrap their head around Mouse's explanation, but it's like swimming in the middle of the ocean with no points of land to orient themselves, completely out of their depth. "So Saito's got his own– what? His own little private Akira knocking around in the basement of that hell?"

[MattL]

Wolf’s words are sharp, they cause Yung to flinch as they roll off the spirit's teeth and penetrate just below his sternum. He looks down and sees a trickle of blood running down his abdomen, his lifeforce slowly issuing out of a two inch incision where Wolf’s words penetrated his body. He feels the same tickling warm sensation on his back; reaching behind to confirm that the words penetrated through him. The wound is a reminder, but strangely there is no pain.

"It can’t be me." He pleads. "How can I lead them? I am out of my depth. They…scare me." He looks away from the sapphire sea and down towards the ground in shame. They are not my pack. The words come out sharply, serrated in tone and dripping with hostility. Yung watches the statement drift out over the cliff’s edge for a few moments before turning back.

They fly towards Yung, pointed and vengeful. His eyes go wide in surprise. He brings his hands up to defend himself, swinging wildly at ‘not’ as it speeds in to attack him. His hand simply passes through the word; the undisciplined strike causes him to lose his balance. He feels himself tumbling over the edge, twisting just in time to catch hold of the edge of the cliff.

He looks up to Wolf, his eyes pleading for help. He sees the words ‘My Pack’ whizz by the spirits ears and into the foliage behind. He feels his grip beginning to falter as the stone on the edge of the cliff begins to crack. He hears the sound of a twig snap followed by the rustling of foliage. Suddenly a lupine figure emerges, it has white fur with a black stripe running from the head down to its tail. Each of the wolf's paws are strikingly black. The wolf approaches Yung, opening it’s maw and closing it down on his wrist, as it pulls him up.

[GM Nick]

Wolf regards Yung with as frank an expression as a canine can muster. The weight behind the spirit's eyes seems physical, as if generating their own gravity that forces Yung to shrink back. It's not fear that squeezes the breath from his lungs: it's authority. Standing behind his mentor, floating above the sea, is Camina. Her body is suspended by invisible strings and wrapped in a thin layer of medical gauze.

"The Moon follows the Sun, not because of desire or fear, but because the Sun burns so bright. You need not conquer their hearts-- just your own."

Yung looks down and discovers himself to be naked. No... not just naked, but revealed. Is it vanity he has been wearing all this time, like a suit of armor? The penetrative gaze of wolf bores into him.

"Do not dwell in their minds or your own will be absent. It is the storm that gathers the clouds. It is the river that tumbles the stone. "

Flecks of Yung's skin begin to tear away underneath the power of the spirit's scrunity. They drift and scatter like ash, lost to the sky. More and more of him dries, crackles, and is lost. But underneath-- underneath is a radiant light.

"Banish that which covers and conceals." Wolf's voice steadily rises in volume. "Destroy that which obscures. Burn like a new star in the cold void of death."

Until it is deafening. Until there is nothing but Wolf and all of existence is that thunderous, terrible voice. "Become the Alpha that walks in front."

Just as Yung reaches the terminus of his psychic tolerance, the voice diminishes and becomes a whisper: "I will lend you my power."

The light within Yung bursts free, boring great holes like molten searchlights. He explodes outward, a conflagration of golden light and rushing wind. The sea bubbles, boiling from his heat. Every star in the sky vibrates and for a single moment, Wolf and Yung are one.

When he opens his eyes, he's sitting cross-legged at the edge of the cliff. Wolf lies next to him, tongue lolling out. The spirit seems smaller-- or is Yung larger? The image of Camina is gone, replaced with the same starfield that was there previously. Far below, the sea is placid.

[Molly]

If Mick is lost, they certainly are covering for it well, as Mouse actually nods along with their apt characterization. "ACTUALLY, YEAH. SAITO JUST HAD TINY TETSUO LOCKED UP IN THAT AGGRESSIVELY PINK ROOM."

"THING IS, THESE KIDS… I DON’T KNOW IF IT'S THEIR POWERS, OR THE WAY THEY INTERFACE WITH THE MATRIX, BUT SOME OF THESE KIDS GET…" Her brow knots, mouth screwing up as she struggles to find the right words. A few words of the Nipponese escape from under her breath, "Bure, bure…" as she makes a twisting motion with both hands. Her eyes snap back upward as she settles on a meaning. "WARPED. IN THEIR CORE. ALMOST LIKE THEY'RE DRIVEN TO DISMANTLE EVERYTHING AROUND THEM."

As if seeking some physical support for what's to come, she finds herself reaching for the blue bottle once more. "…HAVE YOU EVER BEEN INSIDE A BURNT OUT BUILDING? THAT'S WHAT THE INSIDE OF THEIR SECURITY HOST WAS LIKE. IT WAS LIKE SOMETHING HAD PULLED A STRING AND UNRAVELED THE WHOLE THING. FOR FUN."

She's clearly at the limits of her own expertise here, trying to put words to the horrors she's experienced with only urban legend to guide her. "SO BASICALLY, SAITO WAS STORING A LIVING MATRIX WEAPON, THAT'S PROBABLY CRAZY, AND… WE DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS. NO BIG DEAL. DAI-JOU-BU." If the way she tips the bottle back is any indication, it might be a bit of a big deal.

[Drew Buddy]

Axel's face scrunches in concentration, and then turns soft for a moment. "So they give little kids the power of a god in the matrix, and are surprised that it doesn't turn out any differently than giving a kid actual god-like powers?" His expression turns serious. "We've got kiddies with nukes, and a mad emperor who thinks he's so special that he can actually control them. That about sum it up?"

[Molly]

"AND CONSIDERING THAT ONE OF THE LABCOATS DOWN THERE SPLATTERED HIS BRAINS OUT, YOU CAN GUESS HOW WELL IT WAS GOING FOR THEM." She offers up a weak shrug as she pulls the bottle back, leaving a few loose drops of the neon liquor trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"LIKE I SAID, I’M NOT EXACTLY EXPECTING YOU TO BELIEVE ME ON THIS. THE WHOLE THING SOUNDS CRAZY JUST SAYING IT." Amidst the obvious tension wracking her muscles, the conflict flickering between neurons and leaking into her expression, there’s a paradoxical sense of… relief? She leans back, resting her weight on her palms, as though she’d only just put down a physical burden she’d be carrying. "I THINK SOME PART OF ME WAS HOPING THAT BY LEAKING SOME OF THE OTHER DREK, THE PRISON CONDITIONS, THE WAR CRIMES, I MIGHT FIND SOMEONE OUT THERE WILLING TO LISTEN TO THIS TOO- SOMEONE WHO MIGHT TAKE THIS DREK SERIOUSLY."

A wry smile worms its way back to the corner of her lips. "BUT IF ALL ELSE FAILS, I COULD ALWAYS BECOME ONE OF THOSE HEADCASES, YELLING CONSPIRACY THEORIES THROUGH A MEGAPHONE IN THE MIDDLE OF TOWN." She seems content to linger on this gallows train of thought, particularly as she adds, "I MAY NEED TO BORROW T-BONE. EVERY NUTJOB NEEDS A VAN, AND HE ALREADY LOOKS THE PART."

[Drew Buddy]

Axel shrugs. "I guess it's easy to believe, because I was there. All of the prisoners, even the awakened ones, were kept topside. Think about it, an above-ground prison was enough for magically superpowered enemies of the state. So what kind of threat requires a bespoke subterranean labyrinth all to itself? It's easy to believe it's serious, because of how seriously Saito's goons were taking the threat. And they're the ones who actually think it's a good idea."