Snowbound Blood: Volume Eight/Transcript
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Volume Eight Start
Well. On the good news end of the spectrum, you've recently gained an ally in one NECRON EXMORT. On the bad news end, you've squandered any hope of goodwill with someone else.
Most importantly, though, you've subjected yourself to a very personal conversation with Mr. E--... You talked things out with Sestro.
And you may have navigated the emotional subject matter like a blind swampbeast, but you did it all the same. It'd be a stretch to say that things are perfect, but progress is progress.
For the first time in a long time, you've let yourself feel hurt rather than angry. That's all you need to recall right now.
You know it's irrational, but part of you still needs a little distance from him. You've never been one who deals easily with disappointment or heartbreak, and this matter is no exception.
You still care about him, though. And you don't feel as strongly opposed to working for him again, not like you did a few days ago. In fact, you’d say that making up with him is critical — especially in a case like this.
Sestro is not Corporate. You'll listen to him, even as you feel an irreparable rift forming between yourself and your employer company. Hamifi had just as much say in the matter as he did, too.
She gives you all sorts of hell, but against your better judgement, there's a very real level of trust you have in her.
Things are still hard, but they're getting better. Slowly. In the meantime, you'll cope the only way you know how: by fixating on the case in front of you.
It's time to get to work.
Valtel Gurtea
...
The mist swirls around you.
It’s thick, sticky, and it coils between the trees like the tendrils of something that slithered right out of the Black Depths.
A film of moisture clings to your face, slick and heavy with the smell of mildew.
Regardless of how often you tried to wipe it off with your sleeve, it coated your skin again, so eventually, you gave up.
Your hands are occupied either way.
In one, you hold a heavy duty torch, whose otherwise blinding light does little to fend off the mist or the heavy darkness permeating the Grove of Essence.
Mostly, you keep it pointed at the ground in front of you, all too wary of the twisted roots that protrude out of it at uneven intervals.
Whenever you cast the light around you, it illuminates rows upon rows of trees, bent and gangly.
At first, your gaze would linger and you would try to make sense of shapes.
But then... The light would catch on reflective patches on the stems and you would not be able to shake the feeling that the trees were staring back.
You decide to keep looking ahead. Your free hand comes to grip Proserpina’s handle.
Neither you nor Necron have uttered a word since.
You’ve been picking your way through the Grove for a bit over an hour now, you in the front and him in the rear, sweeping his own flashlight across the ground.
His steps are quiet — the occasional muffled groan whenever he puts too much strain on his still recovering injuries notwithstanding.
Your own muscles still throb with a dull pain, reminding you that it’s only been a handful of days since your little run-in with the cultists.
You made it out largely unharmed, however, and you elect not to dwell on your injuries overmuch.
Your focus is needed elsewhere. You are, by all accounts, pressed for time, and you’d rather not waste any by getting tangled up in... trees.
A thin claw of a branch juts out of one of them at your ankle level. You have walked into it before you could see it, and it snaps with a pop as loud as a gunshot.
Your ankle smarts.
You can’t shake the feeling that it was reaching for your leg.
That’s absurd, obviously. All the stories about this place are just that — stories.
Though, weaving your way through the warped trees, it’s easy to start seeing grimaces of pain and stifled screams etched in the bark.
As the tales go, all these trees used to be trolls, once. Alchemists of a bygone era who wandered all the way out here to tap into the essence of life.
It went wrong, horribly so.
Each alchemist who attempted the process underwent an entirely different transformation.
Flesh hardened into wood, skin gave way to bark, limbs contorted and elongated into sharp, reaching branches.
The stories never mentioned if they remained conscious.
Not that you are overly concerned with the fate of fictitious trolls, you tell yourself.
Yet you can’t help but imagine them coming here one by one, hoping that they will be the one to succeed. All of them failing, as the forest slowly expands.
You catch movement out of the corner of your eye.
>Turn to look.
Your head snaps in the direction of the movement and you shine your light between the branches.
For a moment, the torch flickers.
The light comes back on, and then you’re staring at a flat, pale white face, gaping, glaring at you, mouth twisted in a hungry snarl.
Your gaze focuses. The uneven bark becomes something decidedly treelike again.
>Ignore it.
You shake your head with determination.
You’re not going to start jumping at shadows.
-
You keep moving, as fast as you can without risking your neck breaking—or perhaps a little faster.
You cannot afford the luxury of staying perfectly safe—now even less than usual.
You’re in a bit of a hurry.
>RECALL: How you got here.
You were contacted by one Endari Vernir, and as soon as you picked up, you knew it wasn’t simply a courtesy call.
ENDARI: )-| Good evening, Secily, I trust that now is an appropriate time to talk? |-(
SECILY: 1.e4 Hello, Endari. Yes, it is, what's going on? ...e5
ENDARI: )-| There’s a situation that I’d like your assistance with, one that might be of interest to you as well |-(
Based on your limited acquaintance with Endari, there was only one thing he knew would be of interest to you. You stood up straighter, zeroing in on the sound in your earpiece.
SECILY: 2.Nf3 Go on. ...Nc6
ENDARI: )-| It concerns a long-time associate of mine. Valtel Gurtea, the sculptor? |-(
You make a noncommittal noise. You’ve heard of him before.
ENDARI: )-| I know him from... before |-(
His voice takes on a hesitant note. It’s not hard to realise what he’s talking about: his time as part of The Mora.
SECILY: 3.Bb5 Right. ...a6
ENDARI: )-| He hasn’t been involved with them either, it’s simply where I met him and Gingou, his matesprit |-(
SECILY: 4.Bxc6 I understand. So what has been up with this Valtel? ...dxc6
ENDARI: )-| Well, what has been up with him is that, simply put, he’s gone missing |-(
ENDARI: )-| Gingou is in quite the tizzy over it, as I’m sure you can imagine |-(
ENDARI: )-| We’ve been trying to get in touch for a while now, completely in vain |-(
ENDARI: )-| So we figured the expertise of a regulator might be what it takes to shed some light on this matter |-(
SECILY: 5.Nc3 You want me to look for him? ...Bc5
ENDARI: )-| I would be very grateful if you would visit his estate. Perhaps there are clues to be found there |-(
SECILY: 6.d3 And do you have reason to believe that's related to my current case? ...Qe7
ENDARI: )-| Well, you seemed to show great interest in my... background, so I hazarded a guess you might want to check this out for yourself |-(
SECILY: 7.Be3 I see. ...f6
You only considered for a few seconds, then nodded, as if Endari would be able to see it.
SECILY: 8.d4 Very well. Forward me the address, I will look into it. ...exd4
ENDARI: )-| Thank you so much, Secily, that means a lot to me and Gingou. I trust that you’ll update us on what you find? |-(
SECILY: 9.Bxd4 I will. I'll be in touch, Endari. ...Bg4 ½-½
ENDARI: )-| Take care~ |-(
You hung up. With this call, your next course of action was laid out for you.
>Keep walking forward.
The timing of Endari’s request would be far too convenient if you weren’t convinced this was all in line with Noxious’s schemes.
You have not forgotten his threat from your last conversation, and it seems that you know to whom it applies now: Valtel Gurtea.
You do know the name, though your paths are altogether too different to have crossed before. Art has never been something you have had a particular interest in.
And Valtel’s clearly very withdrawn lifestyle means you’ve hardly had any other points of connection.
Not until Noxious singled you both out, anyway.
You only hope you’re not too late.
NECRON: † Secily. †
Necron snaps you out of your thoughts and you look at him over your shoulder.
He’s pointing at something to your left.
NECRON: † We’re almost there. †
He’s right. The light from your torches bounces off a wrought iron fence.
SECILY: 1.c4 Not a moment too soon. ...e6
Necron scoffs under his breath. He has seemed on edge ever since you first heard Valtel’s name, but you haven’t inquired as to why just yet.
There didn’t seem to be enough time during your frantic scramble to reach Valtel before Noxious does.
There doesn’t ever seem to be enough time, recently.
You resume walking towards the fence, and now that you’re almost there, you notice that the forest is thinning out a little bit, making walking easier.
>Hurry over.
Grateful that you’ve almost arrived, you pick up your pace.
The fence cannot be more than a couple of hundred feet away, and with your objective in sight, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from running.
You can hear Necron moving closely behind.
In a matter of seconds, you have narrowed the distance to some fifty feet. You can make something dark and solid between the bars of the fence.
Then, the ground beneath your foot disappears.
You stumble forward, fumble to regain your footing, yet there is nothing but empty air where you expected to find soil.
Your other foot gets caught in some roots and you spread your arms ahead of you, bracing yourself for the impact.
It never comes.
Instead, Necron grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back. Another second passes and you are standing on both feet again.
When he’s certain you’re stable, he lets go.
NECRON: †† Mind your step, regulator. ††
You give him a grunt in response.
SECILY: 2.Nc3 Yeah. Thanks. ...Nf6
You eye the small pit in front of you, covered by roots so thick that you almost think they intentionally grew in such a misleading manner to disguise the trap.
You promptly dismiss the notion. They’re just trees.
Nevertheless, you proceed with more caution.
>Stay alert.
You keep yourself from rushing ahead.
The terrain is still treacherous, even if there are fewer trees, and you maintain your focus as you weave your way towards the fence.
At some point, you notice a steep decline concealed beneath roots and foliage. Only your meticulous scanning prevents you from tumbling into a nasty fall.
SECILY: 2.Nc3 Hm. ...Nf6
You cautiously skirt it instead.
-
At length, you make it to the fence. The iron bars stretch up for a good twenty feet and end with twisted, sharp spikes.
Necron reaches over to touch one of the bars. His fingers come off covered in fine red dust.
He makes a face and wipes his hand on his pants.
All you can see beyond the fence is a thick hedge. There is no building you can make out, and as far as you can hear, the silence is complete.
SECILY: 3.e3 Let’s look for the gate. ...d5
You start walking along the fence, though you somehow doubt you’re going to find the gate open.
You wonder what’s going to greet you beyond it. You decide to probe your companion’s thoughts.
SECILY: 4.d4 Necron. ...b6
NECRON: † ‘Sup, Secily? †
SECILY: 5.Nf3 You’ve seemed ill at ease about visiting Valtel. Why? ...Bb7
He takes a couple of quicker strides to catch up with you, and you give him a sidelong look. His expression is pensive.
NECRON: † Full disclosure, I ain’t ever met the dude. Heard of him, though. He’s... well, nothin’ wrong with valuin’ your privacy and all that, but Valtel’s somethin’ of a recluse. †
NECRON: † There’s a lotta rumours about the goings on in this mansion of his. You ever seen his work before? †
SECILY: 6.Bd3 Can’t say that I have. ...Bd6
NECRON: † Reckon you could call it an acquired taste, but I’m gonna level with you. Shit’s fuckin’ weird, is what it is. †
NECRON: †† It’s the sort of thing that you don’t want to turn your back to. ††
SECILY: 7.O-O They’re just sculptures, Necron. ...Nbd7
NECRON: †† I know they are, but they’re like, uncomfortably realistic. ††
NECRON: † There’s that one troll that disappeared, too. †
SECILY: 8.Qa4 What troll? ...O-O
NECRON: † They had an appointment to model for Valtel for one of his works. Never came back. †
That’s... a little concerning, to be sure.
SECILY: 9.cxd5 Perhaps they got lost in the forest. ...exd5
Necron hums under his breath, but he seems sceptical.
NECRON: † ‘S possible. Can’t hurt to stay alert, is all. †
You nod.
SECILY: 10.b4 We’re going to. ...a6
You’ve made your way around the fence by now and you come to the gates.
They’re made of the same black iron as the rest of the fence, and the horizontal bars at the top curve in elaborate, vicious shapes.
Two stone columns flank them; atop each of them are perched identical stone figures. You cannot make out their heads, but the tense poses give off the impression they’re ready to lunge down at you.
Predictably, the gates are closed. A thick iron chain is wrapped around them where they meet in the middle, secured by a sturdy padlock you can see hanging on the inside.
SECILY: 11.Qb3 Well. ...Re8
NECRON: †† Worry not, regulator. I got just the thing. ††
He raises his prosthetic hand. With a series of clicks, the appendage reconfigures into a circular saw.
SECILY: 12.Bb2 You have got to— ...Nf8
The rest of your words are drowned out by the whirr of the saw.
You sigh, pointing the light at the chain to assist.
Thankfully, the saw cuts through before the screech of metal against metal gives you a headache.
Once he’s done, Necron gives the chain a sharp tug and frees it, then discards it to the side.
Together, you begin to push the gates open.
A second stretches in which nothing happens. You dig your feet in the dirt for support, pressing forward with your entire weight. A grunt escapes your lips as the gate, still, refuses to budge.
Then, it gives way. The hinges scream - a piercing sound just at the edge of your perception that bores straight into your cerebral matter and makes your teeth hurt.
You resist the urge to clamp your hands over your ears, and keep pushing instead.
Between your efforts and Necron’s, there’s soon an opening you can enter through. You let go of the gate and walk in.
You step onto the grounds of Valtel’s mansion, and for a moment, the complete quiet of the night is the most pleasant thing you’ve ever heard.
Then, you realise you’re standing at the entrance of a giant hedge maze.
The walls loom above you, thick and all but solid. Once, each branch would have been trimmed to be perfectly even, every angle would have been measured to ensure symmetry.
Not anymore, however. Leaves stick out every which way, like the bushes are trying to claim back what had been taken. Tiny hooks, all too eager to embed themselves in your clothing or skin.
Square tiles line the path into the maze, but they’re cracked and uneven. Weeds push through the holes between them.
And of course: the statues.
When your eyes land on the one closest to you, your breath catches somewhere inside your respiratory tube.
The marble body is contorted in an unnatural way, as if squeezed by a gigantic hand, and its expression is one of anguish... or fury.
Its eyes bore straight into yours.
You find yourself unable to look back as you take another step forward.
On the edge of your peripheral vision, you see Necron following.
NECRON: †† If this ain’t— ††
A loud, piercing screech cuts him off, making you recoil.
Slowly, painfully, the gates swing shut again.
You hold your breath, digging your nails into your palms. The sound is almost tangible, like someone scraping a dull blade across your bones. For a moment, there’s nothing you want more than to be away from here.
Then, the sound stops and you can breathe again.
You give the gates a wary look, then shake your head. They look perfectly innocuous, stationary once more.
NECRON: †† Helluva cheerful place, ain’t it? ††
SECILY: 13.Ne2 Idyllic. I see what you mean... about the sculptures. ...Ne4
NECRON: ††† Yeeeah... Not a fan of how it seems to be watching me. †††
He clears his throat.
NECRON: †† Anywho, we pressin’ on, regulator? ††
You nod.
SECILY: 14.Ng3 We need to find Valtel. ...Qf6
You brace yourself and enter the maze.
The path is too narrow for you and Necron to walk side by side, so he falls back, assuming your earlier formation.
NECRON: † Hope you’re good with mazes. Never had the patience for ‘em myself. †
Normally, you’d say you are. Mazes are a system with a start and a finish, and working from one end to the other is a kind of problem-solving that appeals to you.
You know there is a solution; it’s only a matter of finding it.
Now, though? You can’t stifle the tiny voice at the back of your mind that insists that this maze does not have one.
You’ve been feeling this way a lot, recently.
You swallow back your doubts. You have to keep moving.
An odd rattling sound carries through the thick air, and your muscles clench. You pause with a foot half-planted on the ground, straining your hearing to catch more, but there’s only silence.
NECRON: † All good, regulator? †
SECILY: 15.Rac1 Yes, I thought I... never mind. ...Nd7
You’re spared from explaining what you heard when the path you’re walking down connects with another.
You reach an intersection. You can keep going forward or turn left.
>Go forward. [Dead end.]
You keep walking forward.
>Go left.
You turn left.
The rattling sound hits you again, louder this time. It comes from the direction you came from.
SECILY: 16.Bxe4 Did you hear that? ...dxe4
NECRON: †† Yes. Came from behind us. ††
You give a sharp nod without looking at him.
SECILY: 17.Ne5 Stay alert. ...Nxe5
You reach an intersection. You can keep going forward, turn left, or turn right.
>Go left. [Dead end.]
You turn left.
>Go right. [Dead end.]
You turn right.
>Go forward.
You keep walking forward.
Each of your footfalls is as sharp as a gunshot against the tiles. Your blood pusher hammers against the cage of your ribs. Your breathing is a staccato of rasping pants.
You’re much too loud.
The rattling comes again, this time from the left. Closer still.
You pick up your pace.
The mist has congealed into a thick mass that actively resists the light of your torch.
Your visibility becomes more and more obscured, which does little to soothe the pangs of apprehension in your stomach.
As you turn around a corner, a statue lurches at you.
Its arms are outstretched in an aborted attack, each of its digits ending in sharp curved claws.
It’s certainly a troll, but their features are twisted in an agonised, furious snarl.
For a few moments, you’re unable to break their stony gaze. Their eyes are narrowed to slits, leering at you with a mixture of hatred and a silent plea.
Necron tears you from your transfixion with a hand on your shoulder.
You let out a huff and keep walking.
You reach an intersection. You can keep going forward, turn left, or turn right.
>Go forward. [Dead end.]
You keep walking forward.
>Go right. [Dead end.]
You turn right.
>Go left.
You turn left.
You’re deep in the maze now, unsure of your position relative to where you started.
You hope you’re moving in the right direction. You hope that whatever is making the rattling noise does not come any closer.
You reach an intersection. You can turn left or turn right.
>Go left. [Dead end.]
You turn left.
>Go right.
You turn right.
Your pace has become frantic. You’re not quite running, but it’s a close thing, and your frenetic breathing sounds thunderous to your ears.
Proserpina is in your hand, although you don’t remember drawing her from her sheath.
It takes you a moment to realise that you can’t hear the rattling. Somehow, that does little to comfort you.
You reach an intersection. You can keep going forward or turn right.
>Go forward. [Dead end.]
You keep walking forward.
>Go right.
You turn right.
[Jump to Last Intersection]
[First/generic dead end]
You reach a dead end.
The hedge closes in front of you abruptly, like a heavy curtain has dropped to mark the sudden end of a scene.
There’s nothing around you but walls of foliage, your gasping breath, and the clumps of mist.
Then, a rattle on the other side of the wall before you.
You spin on your heel and push past Necron, motioning for him to follow you back.
You retrace your way to your last turn.
[Random dead end: blood]
Another dead end.
You turn the torch in all directions, as if shining light on the correct spot will open some unseen way forward.
Nothing.
Then: something on the ground catches your eye.
You direct your light toward a small puddle of liquid. It appears black at first, but closer inspection reveals it’s a rich blue. Cerulean.
Another splatter paints the hedge to your left, coagulating across the small leaves.
You reach out to touch the blood.
NECRON: †† ...Secily? ††
Necron’s voice gives you pause. The undercurrent of agitation suggests this is not the first time he tried to attract your attention.
You look at him over your shoulder.
SECILY: X.Áw¥´ Don't you see it? ...øŒ4?V
NECRON: †† See what? ††
You turn back to point at the blood and — it’s gone.
There’s no sign of it. It’s as if it was never there.
You rub your eyes. This place is messing with your head. With a sigh, you turn back to Necron.
SECILY: X.ÜÂK¤ It's nothing. I thought I saw something that wasn't there. Let's go back. ...œrƒ
He seems worried, but doesn’t argue the point.
[Random dead end: Gerbat]
You reach another dead end.
This one isn’t empty.
You take the turn with so much momentum that coming to a stop is slow and clumsy. You end up all too close to a Gerbat who... should not be here.
He stares you down, unfazed.
GERBAT: Г thought I told you I never wanted to see you again J
You try to come up with a response, but your voice doesn’t seem able to find the way out of your mouth.
GERBAT: Г you shouldn’t be here. It’s not your place J
GERBAT: Г haven’t you caused enough grief? J
GERBAT: Г the likes of you are not welcome here. Nor wanted J
GERBAT: Г you think the power you have justifies your arrogance, your cruelty J
GERBAT: Г but when did your position turn into all that you are? J
He smiles, with as much warmth as the swing of a blade.
GERBAT: Г or maybe it’s all you’ve ever been J
SECILY: X.m¥a I— ...*€¤
Your knees shake. You stumble back, away from him, as if that can protect you from his words.
You crash into Necron, who grabs your upper arms and steadies you.
NECRON: †† Secily? ††
NECRON: †† You’re actin’ real weird, what gives? ††
You twist back to look at the spot where Gerbat stood, but there’s nothing there — just the darkness of the maze.
You press a hand to your face. You don’t understand what’s happening. This place is messing with your head.
In the distance, you hear that rattle again.
You need to find the exit, find Valtel, and be done with this place.
You take a deep, steadying breath and steel yourself before looking back at Necron.
SECILY: X.ð&UÁ Trick of light. We can't stop now. ...öÒ
If Necron has any doubts, he doesn’t express them. Instead, he motions for you to keep going.
As you retrace your steps towards the last intersection, the rattling sound seems to be coming from all sides.
Your head is pounding. Cold sweat rolls down the back of your neck. You wonder what fresh nightmare awaits you around the next corner.
[Last intersection]
You reach an intersection. You don’t pause to consider, instead making a split-second decision to march down the first path you see.
You don’t have it in you to be surprised when you realise it’s a dead end.
Mshiri — or what you know by now is not Mshiri — stares you down with her arms crossed.
You know this is not real, you know you ought to turn around and leave, but her cold gaze paralyses you.
MSHIRI: .are you lost again, secily
MSHIRI: ..youre on the wrong path
MSHIRI: ...but you know that, dont you
MSHIRI: ....youve been sprinting towards a dead end for sweeps
MSHIRI: ......sweeping people along as you go
MSHIRI: .......i was supposed to help you
MSHIRI: ........but youve never let me do that, not really
MSHIRI: .........tell me, secily
MSHIRI: ..........are you happy about the position you put me in
Even if you wanted to give her an answer, you doubt you’d be able to.
The apparition that claims Mshiri’s face tilts its head, observing you with something you might consider to be curiosity.
Then, it gives you a honey-sweet smile.
MSHIRI: .leave
MSHIRI: ..i never want to see you again
You want to hide from this smile, from the words you’ve both expected and feared for sweeps.
You cannot look away.
NECRON: †† Aight, regulator, time to move. ††
NECRON: †† You’ve been starin’ at the empty wall for a hot moment again. ††
He grips your shoulders and gives you a light, but firm tug backwards.
As soon as he breaks your focus on it, the thing that wasn’t Mshiri disappears. You shake your head and pull your shoulders from his grasp.
SECILY: 18.dxe5 I can walk. ...Bxe5
You turn your back on the dead end, facing Necron head-on. He watches you for a moment, then nods.
NECRON: † We gotta be gettin’ close to the exit now. †
NECRON: †† We’ll be outta here in no time flat. ††
He seems to be waiting for a response from you, but when you don’t give him one, he shrugs and starts walking back down the way you came from.
You follow.
You walk in silence for a while, before Necron breaks it.
NECRON: † Yo, Secily? What did you see? †
>Don’t tell him.
-
>Tell him.
...
You can’t do that.
-
SECILY: 19.Rxc7 It doesn’t matter, Necron. It was nothing. ...Bxb2
Thankfully, he doesn’t press it.
You must have been just off of the exit of the maze, because it’s only a couple more moments of walking before it abruptly ends.
Valtel’s mansion stands in front of you, a three-story building floating amidst the fog.
Elaborate ornaments decorate the façade, but they’re weather-worn and chipped. The stone itself is darkened and dull with moisture and moss. Almost all the windows are barred from the inside, and no light shines through the cracks.
You exchange a look with Necron.
NECRON: † Let’s see if anyone’s home. †
The two of you inch your way to the front of the hive, then ascend the stone steps leading up to the door. An iron knocker in the shape of a hooded serpent is positioned at your eye level, staring at you indifferently.
As you stare back at it, you hear that same rattling that followed you through the maze, but now it’s distant, fainter.
Then, you hear a sound filtering through the door from inside the hive: a sharp, measured knocking.
You can’t make out what it is.
While you’re trying to determine the source of it, Necron switches his prosthetic to a set of lockpicks and sets out to bust the door.
You strain your hearing to catch any changes inside, but there’s only the same rhythmic sound.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock.
NECRON: † There. †
NECRON: † Fingers crossed the door ain’t barred too. †
He straightens back up, pleased with his handiwork. Then, the two of you lay your hands on the door and give it an experimental shove. It’s heavy, but to your surprise, it gives slightly.
You push harder. The door begins to slide open gradually, laboriously.
Then, all at once, the resistance disappears and you tumble inside amidst a loud clatter.
NECRON: ††† Sonuva— †††
You grip the back of Necron’s shirt before he crashes into the ground headfirst, steadying yourself on the door and trying to get your bearings.
A pile of assorted furniture lies scattered on the floor in front of you - a table, a number of upturned chairs, what looks like an elaborate coat hanger.
SECILY: 20.Rxb7 It seems like it was barred up after all. ...Be5
As you’re saying it, unease creeps up your back.
The knocking has stopped.
Your hand flies to Proserpina’s handle and you open your mouth to warn Necron—and then it starts up again.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock.
You hesitate, but when it doesn’t seem to waver, you venture inside. You keep your blade at the ready.
The hive is quiet, dusty, and deserted. You head down a long hallway that opens into a spacious living room. At least that’s what you assume it is — all of the furniture is hidden beneath white sheets.
Across the room, there are stairs leading up. That’s where the noise seems to be coming from, so you exchange a look with Necron and nod.
You make your way through the building, quiet and careful. You doubt that your presence can possibly have remained unnoticed, but something about making noise in this place unnerves you.
Silence reigns absolute in the mansion, beside the ever-present knocking. It grows louder as you walk into the second floor and down a dusky hallway.
All of the doors around you are shut, with no light coming through the cracks around them.
All except for one. The door at the end of the hallway is framed by a faint aura of light.
Necron whispers under his breath:
NECRON: †† That where the noise is comin’ from? ††
You nod, keeping your eyes locked on it.
Once you have closed the remaining distance, you pause for a moment to collect your thoughts. Knock, knock. You really don’t want to open this door.
>Open the door.
But you also don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.
You turn the knob. The door slowly swings open. You step inside.
For a moment, the light filling the room overwhelms you. You resist the urge to shield your eyes from it, adjusted to the ever-present darkness as they are.
You blink rapidly and a circular room comes into focus in front of you.
Statues line the walls, taking up the alcoves between the windows, and your sweeping glance across the room is enough to tell you they’re as grotesque and painful as the rest of the art you’ve seen here.
There’s something in the centre of the room — another sculpture — but you don’t have time to inspect it. A figure stands in front of it, and you finally see Valtel Gurtea for the first time.
You’re not sure what you expected, but the thin, frail-looking individual in front of you wasn’t it.
He’s got his back turned towards you, and he doesn’t seem to notice your presence. His entire body is still, but limp somehow, as if it’s only a matter of time before gravity pulls him to the floor.
The knocking has stopped. The chisel and hammer in his hands tell you what the source of the sound had been.
SECILY: 21.Rc1 Valtel Gurtea? ...Rac8
Your voice echoes across the room, crashing back into you much louder than you could have anticipated.
He doesn’t turn around.
VALTEL: i’ve been feeling vninspired lately.
His voice is amplified by the echo, too, but it’s even. Emotionless.
Beside you, Necron shuffles with unease. His eyes are locked on Valtel; he’s waiting, but you know if this situation takes a turn for the worse, he’ll be ready to act.
You take another step towards Valtel.
SECILY: 22.Rxc8 Mr. Gurtea, we’re here to ask you some questions pertaining to a case we’re— ...Rxc8
VALTEL: vvhat do yov do vvhen yovr vvork loses its meaning? do yov keep going throvgh the motions becavse that’s vvho yov’re svpposed to be?
VALTEL: or do yov accept that yov’re nothing vvithovt it?
VALTEL: none of it matters.
His words put you on edge as much as the deadpan delivery does. You can’t help but wonder if he’s aware that he’s speaking to you.
As if on cue, he turns to face you.
His gaze slides over you and Necron and falls to the floor. His placid, vacant expression does not change at the sight of two strangers in his home, and he speaks again in the same unaffected tone.
VALTEL: i haven’t had visitors for a vvhile.
A shadow crosses his face with his next words.
VALTEL: none that i covld see, anyvvay.
SECILY: 23.Nf1 What does that mean, Valtel? ...Rc1
Predictably, he ignores your imploring tone. His eyes lock on yours for a moment, then dart away again.
VALTEL: hovv did yov get past them?
SECILY: 24.Qd5 Past whom? ...Rc2
VALTEL: the maze and the things in it.
NECRON: † We jus’ found our way out of it. †
VALTEL: no.
He glances at you again, and for a moment, you wonder whether he’s talking about the same things you encountered.
SECILY: 25.f4 The things in the maze: do you know what they are? ...exf3
His gaze falls back to the floor, but for a moment, you see a flicker of something new in his eyes. Fear.
He wraps his arms around himself.
VALTEL: yov shovldn’t have come here.
SECILY: 26.Qxf3 Valtel, we came here to help. We were informed that you may be in danger. ...Qe6
He takes a step back, bristling as if you moved to attack him.
VALTEL: of covrse i am. vve all are.
You stay silent, trying to collect your thoughts. You’re unsure how to proceed. It’s clear that the troll in front of you is not entirely lucid, and you’re scrambling for a way to get through to him.
While you’re contemplating, Necron gestures to attract your attention.
NECRON: †† Regulator... ††
He points across the room.
NECRON: †† Is that statue bleedin’? ††
It... certainly seems to be. You and Necron exchange confused looks. Should you mention this to Valtel?
You turn back towards him. He hasn’t budged from his defensive pose.
You decide to try asking him some questions.
>Is that statue bleeding?
Valtel lets out something that’s almost a scoff.
VALTEL: of covrse it’s not bleeding.
VALTEL: stone doesn’t bleed.
He seems more agitated, tension building in his shoulders.
>What are you working on?
VALTEL: oh?
He lights up, almost imperceptibly. Then, he moves aside to give you a clear view of his sculpture.
VALTEL: i call this one 'portrait of the artist.'
Your breath catches. Before you stands a stone amalgamation of hands and faces and limbs, gripping, tangled together, bare bones sticking out of places they don’t belong, mouths warped in expressions of agony and anger.
It’s incomplete, though the chunks of formless stone seem to belong in this composition as much as its other elements.
You will yourself not to shudder at the sight.
VALTEL: i’ve been vvorking on this piece for so long, but it never seems to be qvite done.
VALTEL: there’s alvvays something missing.
NECRON: †† ‘S real gnarly, I’ll give ya that. ††
Valtel looks at his face for the first time since you entered the room. He must be trying to determine whether the remark was meant as a compliment or an insult.
Whatever conclusion he comes to, it doesn’t seem to satisfy him.
He’s gripping his sides, eyes narrowed at the floor.
>When did you last see your matesprit?
Valtel’s face darkens.
VALTEL: it feels like a very long time.
VALTEL: it mvst have been a fevv vvices, it’s been hard to keep track of it.
His fingers tighten around his arm, as if he clutches hard enough, he can ground himself in the moment.
That’s when it clicks for you.
His exhaustion, the way he seems dazed and unsteady on his feet and keeps fading in and out of awareness — he must be experiencing withdrawal.
You feel a pang of sympathy, familiar as you are with the constant discomfort. It doesn’t take long for it to kick in, either; if his estimation is correct, the symptoms are rather severe by this point.
For a moment, Valtel’s expression softens. He murmurs, barely above a whisper:
VALTEL: i miss him.
Just as quickly, the emotion fades from his face.
You swallow around the lump in your throat and bring yourself to speak.
SECILY: 27.Ra7 Valtel, your partner’s been trying to reach you. He’s been worried sick since you cut contact. ...g6
VALTEL: cvt contact?
You have to fight the urge to recoil. Instinctively, you reach for your weapon. Valtel just keeps talking, the momentary fury seeping from his features.
VALTEL: i have been trying to contact him this entire time. texting, calling... he never responded.
VALTEL: he left me all alone here, and i’m trapped.
SECILY: 28.Rxa6 Trapped? ...Kg7
VALTEL: i can’t leave. i knovv vvhat’s vvaiting ovt there.
SECILY: 29.a4 We can help you get out of here, I’m sure Gingou will be— ...Rc1
VALTEL: it’s not safe. not jvst for me, for anyone.
VALTEL: terrible things are coming.
He moves another step away from you.
>Why have you barricaded yourself here?
VALTEL: barricaded?
VALTEL: i vvould be dead othervvise.
VALTEL: there are monsters on the other side, vnlike anything either of vs has seen, and they’re trying to get throvgh.
VALTEL: they’re vvatching me. biding their time vntil i give vp.
VALTEL: i cannot ever let my gvard dovvn.
NECRON: †† Buddy, no one’s— ††
He cuts himself off, and you know he’s thinking about Noxious. How much of what’s been happening here has been because of him?
It looks like Valtel doesn’t enjoy this line of questioning, however.
His eyes keep flicking to you in something teetering on open panic.
All of your questions seem to run into a stone wall.
It’s hard to reach Valtel, and even the fragmented responses he does give you are confusing and difficult to follow.
He’s clearly in no fit state to be questioned; if anything, your interrogation only made it worse.
He’s stepped even farther away from you now, opening a wide rift of bare stone between you. His eyes keep darting around, to you, then Necron, then the door, like he’s looking for a way out.
You decide to try one more time.
SECILY: 30.a5 Valtel, have you heard the moniker Noxious? ...Qc4
His anxious fidgeting stops, but he doesn’t respond. You don’t give up.
SECILY: 31.Rxb6 What about obnoxiousAntidote? ...Rxf1+
SECILY: 32.Qxf1 Have you talked to him? ...Bxh2+
SECILY: 33.Kf2 How does he contact you? ...Bg3+ ½-½
VALTEL: no.
His eyes have become unfocused. They’re looking in your direction, but they’re empty, seeing something far beyond you.
VALTEL: i don’t vvant yovr qvestions.
VALTEL: they’re not going to be of any vse to yov.
VALTEL: they vvill not help yov vvith vvhat’s to come.
VALTEL: the vvar that’s coming isn’t going to be one that yov’ll fight.
VALTEL: leave.
He turns away from you, signalling that he wants this conversation to end. But you can’t go just yet.
You need this victory.
You take a step closer to Valtel.
>Please tell me what you know.
You get no response.
>Please tell me what you know.
Valtel is quiet. His shoulders are shaking.
NECRON: ††† Secily... †††
>Tell me.
VALTEL: no!
He whips around like a taut string being released, and his eyes are glowing a burning white, and you don’t even have the time to ask what’s happening before your entire body goes very, very cold.
You can’t move.
Red bleeds into your vision, swirling around you until you feel like you’re looking at the room around you through thick, viscous liquid.
Then, there is no room.
You’re all by yourself again. Have you ever not been?
The cold is an overpowering numbness that starts where your blood pusher should be and weighs your entire body down, down...
Part of you knows you should fight it, you should resist. You have a reason to.
>...
>...
>...
You don’t know. You don’t remember.
It’s getting hard to think, and you’re so, so cold.
>...Ahlina.
You’re too late for that.
You couldn’t do anything to save her. You didn’t even learn the truth for sweeps.
You failed her.
As you will fail everyone else.
With that thought searing your mind, your vision finally goes dark.
...
NECRON: † ...and then he used his ability and his eyes got all wacky and he paralyzed you. †
You’re leaning back against the table, looking at Necron as he recounts the events of the previous night to you.
Your neck is still uncomfortably stiff.
NECRON: † Natch, I jump at him and hit him square on the head, and he ain’t all that hardy, so he was out for the count pretty much straight away. †
NECRON: † An’ then you passed out on the floor. Had to carry you both through that maze. †
He laughs, sort of sheepishly, and you have a hunch about what he’s going to say next.
NECRON: †† Lucky I have a chainsaw. Made the whole business easier. ††
You don’t have it in you to mourn Valtel’s maze, and frankly, you doubt he does, either.
SECILY: 1.e4 As long as it got the job done. ...c5
NECRON: ††† Sure did! †††
NECRON: †† Anywho, I rang Oricka up and she gave us a ride. Took Valtel to another pal to help him recover. He’s gonna be back with Gingou in no time flat! ††
Necron’s grin splits his face in two almost even parts. It’s not hard to tell he’s elated.
NECRON: ††† We won this round, regulator! †††
You wish you could feel anywhere as confident or excited about it as Necron does. As it is, only thinking about the events of the past night makes you nauseated.
Thankfully, you’re prevented from having to ruin his enthusiasm when the door opens and Sestro steps inside.
Necron gives him a curious look.
NECRON: † Howdy, chief. †
Sestro pauses, giving Necron a look with raised eyebrows, then directing it at you instead.
You shrug a single shoulder. Sestro considers you, then lets out an almost imperceptible sigh.
He nods at Necron.
SESTRO: ∞ hello.
SESTRO: ∞ i’m glad you’ve come back to yourself, secily. how are you recovering?
SECILY: 2.Nf3 I’m fine. ...Nc6
You realise that must sound terribly unconvincing, so you add:
SECILY: 3.Bb5 Tired. It’s been a long night. ...g6
Sestro nods, although you’re not sure he buys it. Still, he doesn’t press further. You didn’t think he would.
SESTRO: ∞ the executive would like to talk to you when you’re able.
Right away, then, you think. Somehow, you weren’t expecting to be able to rest soon.
SECILY: 4.O-O Alright. Thank you for letting me know. ...½-½
There’s something hopeful in his expression as he takes his leave.
Later, you feel like the past 12 hours have taken from you everything that they could, but you still have a call to make.
Mshiri picks up just when you start to think she’s not going to.
MSHIRI: .secily
MSHIRI: ..it’s good to hear you
MSHIRI: ...are you alright
SECILY: Yeah. A lot’s happened. Can you talk?
MSHIRI: .i can
MSHIRI: ..give me a moment
There’s a brief rustling sound and you hear her talk to someone on her end.
MSHIRI: .i’m sorry darling
MSHIRI: ..i need to take this
CINARE: Çool. Take your time, I guess.
Another rustle, a moment of silence, and then you hear Mshiri addressing you again.
MSHIRI: .alright
MSHIRI: ..tell me what’s been going on
END
Sabine Berare
It feels good to say you're on the right track.
Even if you can't say it metaphorically, you can always say it literally on the Stronghold 21 monorail service.
Just you today. Necron's still busy recovering from your last encounter. As much as he and Oricka insisted you "chillax for a sec," you've got a job to do.
You know damn well that Necron's probably still gallivanting about on his own mission, however. The man exudes the exact same refusal to sit still as you do.
You do think it was a good call on your part not to take Mr. Knife Hand to see a literal child, though. No offense to him, of course, but impressions are important when dealing with the impressionable.
So here you are. On a train. Waiting.
It might be impossible to stall on a moving train, but if you could? It's hard to deny that you might. You were warned, after all.
>Recall: MSHIRI LIBETA.
Just earlier today, actually, her look of second-hand exasperation told you all you needed to know.
MSHIRI: .youre going to visit sabine berare
Yes. That is, in fact, what you just said. Repeated verbatim for some reason.
SECILY: You look worried. Should I be following suit, in your professional opinion?
MSHIRI: .im sure you have your reasons
MSHIRI: ..whatever they may be
MSHIRI: ...but youll need something before you go
You keep the conversation going while you watch her root around in her thermal hull. Curious.
SECILY: He was present at the awards ceremony. If anybody would have overheard hushed whispers of illegality, it would be him. His records claim he has powerful control over sound and frequency.
You hear her sigh something that vaguely sounds like boy, does he ever. You ask her what was that. She pulls out a flask instead of answering.
SECILY: A little early for that, isn't it?
MSHIRI: .its mountain dew actually
MSHIRI: ..imagine i have just retrieved it from behind a glass pane
MSHIRI: ...the kind reserved for emergencies
MSHIRI: ....show your meal sac some mercy and dont use it all straight away
You're no stranger to soda. With the number of attacks you've endured, you've guzzled enough medicinal syrup to give a tuskbeast a serious addiction.
These things are usually found in their signature packaging, but the smaller container allows for more controlled portion sizes, you guess.
Not that it's common practice to overdose on this stuff in the first place. They are the primary means of hydration on your planet, after all. What the hell else would it be, water? Fuck no.
The actual medicinal uses and strength of the drinks varies by brand and flavor, so you guess dangerous overindulgence might be possible, if one is committed enough to the cause.
People who don’t need some sort of fixing up usually just opt for Sprite, though.
You retrieve the medicinal flask from your coat pocket.
Ah, Mountain Dew, the universal remedy for headaches. Certainly foreboding, but her crypticity and knowing smile confirm that he's not serious enough of a threat to genuinely raise concern.
Now, if it had been a Mountain Dew: Code Red, then you’d be a little worried. That stuff is a real potent antidepressant.
You notice a few people giving you weird looks — probably because drinking on public transport is strictly forbidden and frowned upon. The flask goes away again.
...They're still staring at you.
Look, even if it had been alcoholic, you didn't even take a sip! They're being awfully rude right now and
SABINE: [o--] (HEY. HEY YOU.)
The passenger behind you abruptly pipes up and you’re struck by the thought that you might have just figured out why people were looking in your direction.
SABINE: [-o-] YEAH, YOU. YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF MONORAIL THIS IS?
And here you were, thinking he didn't have an inside voice before. It has this... piercing quality to it that’s already driving you batshit up the bellfry.
Your eye catches the sigil he's wearing and everything suddenly makes sense. You've seen his records before.
SECILY: 1.d4 Would you happen to be Sabine Berare? ...d5
SABINE: [-o-] DEPENDS. IS THIS A BALDWIN 2-2-3 S3-CLASS MONORAIL SYSTEM?
SABINE: [o--] (THAT'S A JOKE BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY THAT YOU WOULD HAVE THE ANSWER TO THAT SEEING AS YOU ARE NOT AS SMART AS I AM.)
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
Seeing as how you're now sorely tempted to down the entire painkilling beverage in your pocket in a single gulp, you think you've found your next target.
>Recall: SABINE BERARE.
The rhythmic, stilted laughter and the pained looks the other passengers are wearing confirm it. This is your guy.
You haven't seen him visor-to-visor before, but you've heard many a tale about his antics. Most recently, demanding a dance number from Dersal for his drink at dinner.
He's infamously known for badgering his fellow employees with IQ tests for the sole purpose of boosting his ego, claiming his own is 'over 9000' points.
And also constructively criticizing (read: nitpicking) the way people make their nachos every time the cafeteria hosts some Lunchables-sponsored event or another.
People also complain about his reporting of extremely minor violations of Corporate Conduct to upper management, which you'd usually let slide. Nothing wrong with following the rules — or so you'd always say before.
Nowadays... not so much.
Regardless, he's mostly just known for being a real know-it-all kid. No threat, except to the secure placement of your marbles.
>Get to the point.
SECILY: 2.Nf3 Well, this is rather convenient. I was just on my way to pay you a visit. ...c5
SABINE: [-o-] AS I PREDICTED. LOL.
There's something familiar about the way that he said "lol" just now. Flat. Monotone. But more importantly...
SECILY: 3.g3 Predicted? ...e6
SABINE: [-o-] WHY THE FUCK ELSE WOULD CHIEF REGULATOR SECILY IOPARA BE TRAVELING TO A HOME UNIT COMPOUND IN STRONGHOLD 21 AFTER A THEFT OCCURRED?
You have so many problems with the string of words he just launched out of his mouth, like some kind of verbal torpedo.
First of all, his god damned language. He's like, what, 6? You really should have a word with his lusus.
Second of all, the fact that he knows so much about your situation and intent without you even telling him two words about your destination. Can he—
SABINE: [-o-] YES I CAN READ YOUR MIND, SECILY, AND YES I AM SMARTER THAN YOU.
SECILY: 4.Bg2 What? ...Nf6
SECILY: 5.O-O No, that wasn't what I was... what? ...Nc6
Well, he definitely just confirmed that he can't read minds, in any case. The fact that this kid seems to know so much about the concoction you're chasing doesn't put you at ease, though.
First things first — you need to keep your voices low. You can't let anybody else hear about this.
SECILY: (6.c4 How do you know about the theft. ...dxc4)
SECILY: (7.Qa4 And be quiet, for all-mother's sake. This is sensitive information. ...Bd7)
SABINE: [o--] (I PAY ATTENTION, SECILY. IT'S ALL A MATTER OF OBSERVATION.)
SABINE: [o--] (AND HEARING OTHER PEOPLE SAY THINGS. FROM BEHIND THE SHADOWS.)
SECILY: (8.Qxc4 Your powers must come in quite handy for things like this, mustn't they? ...b5)
SABINE: [o--] (WHAT'S IT TO YOU?)
Perhaps he'll end up being a better lead than you thought. It's always the tattletales that you can rely on.
Almost makes up for the fact that this can barely be considered whispering.
You're about to continue your line of thought, when he abruptly jumps from his seat. Oh. It seems like it's the end of the line.
You raise to your feet in turn and follow him out. YVES deems it necessary to immediately start bombarding you with directions, no matter how many times you dismiss the pesky things.
One day you’ll get Oricka to explain those settings.
Thankfully, Sabine seems to be completely okay with bringing you straight to his home unit compound. No convincing necessary there.
The first thing you notice is that he lacks the regular wooden doors that every other home unit has. His residence looks a little more... customized. And metallic.
He swipes a keycard into its corresponding lock and your earlier judgement proves to be an understatement. This place, even in the dark, is computer geek city.
You suddenly feel slightly claustrophobic.
SABINE: [-o-] WELCOME, REGULATOR...
SABINE: [--o] TO MY LAIR!
Instead of a cartoony lightning strike to emphasise his dramatic flair, the lights flick on to the sound of something more like BWOOOAAAAAAOH. Emphasis on the bold and italics.
SECILY: 9.Qd3 This... feels like it violates a lot of residential agreement clauses. ...Qb6
SABINE: [-o-] PERHAPS FOR THE REGULAR AVERAGE SCHMUCK.
SABINE: [-o-] BUT, LIKE IN MANY ASPECTS AND AREAS OF REPITONIAN CIVILIZATION, I AM AN EXCEPTION!
SABINE: [o--] (BY WHICH I MEAN I DEVIOUSLY GAINED ACCESS TO A PERMIT TO RENOVATE MY PATHETIC EX-LIVING STATION INTO A GLORIOUS WORK-AT-HOME LAIR!)
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
Before you can properly formulate the thought that the "lair" denominator is somewhat endearing, he clears his throat. The absolute worst type of music starts blaring from his supercomputer's speakers: the way too loud kind.
You're sensing a theme here.
SECILY: 10.Nc3 TURN THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN! ...c4
SABINE: [-o-] WHAT WAS THAT? COULDN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY GENIUS.
What's absurd is that you have to yell over what you think is a "base drop," while his regular speaking volume is perfectly audible amidst the chaos.
His voice is, against all odds, pushing the waves of his diabolical soundtrack aside, like some kind of mythological OH FUCK YOU HE'S TURNING IT UP.
Your hands are clamped over your ears as tightly as possible. You squeeze your eyes shut, and when you open them back up again, the overlay on your visor is helpfully informing you that you’re getting a call.
Necron has undoubtedly picked the single worst time to check in. Still, it's probably important, so you make the world's most obvious "I'm on the phone" gesture at Sabine as you pick up.
NECRON: † Hey boss, 'scuse me for droppin' in on ya, just figured I'd-- †
SECILY: 1.e4 NECRON, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO SPEAK UP! ...d5
Despite you very clearly swiping your hand across your neck at your new DJ friend, Sabine fails to care enough to do anything in response. Rubbing his hands together like a supervillain doesn't count.
NECRON: †† Jeez Laweez. YOU INVESTIGATING AN ERUPTING VOLCANO OR SOMETHIN', SES? ††
NECRON: †† DON'T RECKON MAGMA CHAMBERS AMBUSH CARGO TRUCKS ON THE REGS, BUT PROPS FOR BEING THOROUGH! ††
SECILY: 2.exd5 NO, THIS IS JUST. REALLY LOUD MUSIC. ...Qxd5
ORICKA: YEAH it is CRANK that :dab_shrimp: :whip_shrimp: :biwicedance_shrimp:
It's tough to hear, but you're pretty sure you heard Oricka on the other line just then.
SECILY: 3.Nc3 LOOK, CAN I CALL YOU BACK? I DON'T THINK I HAVE MUCH OF A SHOT AT TURNING THIS MUSIC OFF ANY TIME SOON. ...Qa5
NECRON: †† HATE TO BREAK IT TO YA, TATER TOT, BUT THIS IS MAD RELEVANT. NOT ONLY THAT, BUT IT'S ABSOLUTELY ACE, TOO! ††
NECRON: †† GET THIS: WE CRACKED HOW TO ID NOXIOUS! ††
NECRON: †† GNARLY, AM I RIGHT? ††
Oh. You see why this call couldn't wait, now. This is extremely important shit.
If only you could hear it without the accompanying soundtrack. Unfortunately, plugging your other ear with your finger doesn't help all that much with the horrid background noise of this room.
SECILY: 4.d4 IN AS SHORT AND CLEAR A STATEMENT AS POSSIBLE, PLEASE. ...Nf6
NECRON: †† REDUPLICATION RECORDS. I GOT HIS NUMBER, NOW! AND BY THAT I MEAN HIS SIGIL. ††
SECILY: 5.Bd3 WOW. THAT'S... IMPRESSIVE. WOW. ...Nc6
NECRON: †† S'JUST A MATTER OF GETTING ACCESS TO THE DATABASE. YOU CAN THANK ME LATER, SKATER. TOUCH BASE WITH ME WHEN YOU CAN. ††
Ugh, you really wish circumstances were... quieter right now. You are just dying to know how Necron managed to score that kind of information.
Or perhaps more accurately, what kind of bait Noxious used to let Necron think he found it. You're plenty aware of his game by now.
You hang up with a huff and look over to the smug little kid still blaring his dubstep, and you make it a point to not look amused.
Before you can let your irritation get the best of you, you both hear thumping coming from the floor.
That is likely his downstairs neighbor. You’d wager he’s about to file a formal complaint with the research department — whilst on the edge of being driven to physical violence by this maddening soundscape.
??????: O> Sabine!! I think you are being incredibly way too loud!! ‿
??????: O> The Boys and I are trying to have a conversation here and, this is, uhm. ‿
??????: O> Quiet, please!! ‿
SABINE: [-o-] SILENCE, GRUBWORM!
Sabine stomps on the floor like he's squishing a parasite in a skulltitan graveyard, cackling in mirth and rubbing it all in as much as he can.
Three stomps, then five stomps. Just like his laugh. This boy is committed to that quirk of his.
And then everything goes quiet. Thank the Mother, sweet silence. You sigh in relief as Sabine glowers at his floor.
SABINE: [-o-] WHAT THE-!? HOW DARE YOU INFILTRATE MY SYSTEMS AGAIN! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS, MARK MY WORDS!
SECILY: 11.Qe3 If I may, Sabine? I don't have a lot of time right now. ...Rc8
SECILY: 12.Rd1 I came to pick your, er... brilliant mind. ...Nb4
SECILY: 13.Rb1 I require your talents. ...Bc6
All this ringing in your audio cones is reminding you of another high-decibel individual, which in turn reminds you that kissing ass is sometimes the fastest way to cut the crap.
Sure enough, his sour mood appears to pick right back up at the sound of praise.
SABINE: [-o-] WELL, WHEN YOU PHRASE IT SO REASONABLY. CHOP CHOP, INFERIOR.
How cute. He's trying so hard to sell the whole supervillain shtick.
You hope it's intentional, anyway.
Time to pick his mind about...
>Awards night.
The main reason you came to visit the junior designer centers rather heavily on his presence at Corporate's awards ceremony. You'd have to pick this option sooner or later.
SECILY: 14.Ne5 So, Sabine. I've heard many a tale about the extent of your powers. Given your... recent displays, I doubt they're unfounded. ...Bxg2
SECILY: 15.Kxg2 I'm curious on where exactly your limits lie. ...Be7
SECILY: 16.Qf3 Um. Don't take that as a threat. Or a request. ...O-O
SABINE: [-o-] LIMITS? DON'T HAVE 'EM. I COULD HEAR A PIN DROP IN THE BLACK DEPTHS. WITH MY HANDS TIED BEHIND MY BACK.
You don't particularly envy the thought of being subjected to a constant stream of auditory overload. You also strongly doubt he could live up to such claims, but you'll focus on seeing if he can help you out.
SECILY: 17.e4 How do you manage it? That'd drive just about anyone crazy. ...Rfd8
SECILY: 18.g4 Is your hearing really that powerful? ...Nc6
SABINE: [-o-] MY POWER ISN'T SENSITIVE HEARING, MOUTHBREATHER. THAT'D BE DUMB AND IDIOTIC OF ME TO HAVE.
SABINE: [-o-] MY CAPABILITIES ARE MUCH MORE REFINED THAN JUST THAT.
SABINE: [o--] (AND ALMOST CERTAINLY THAN YOURS.)
SABINE: [-o-] MY BRILLIANT MIND HAS THE ABILITY TO CONTROL AND ALTER SOUND WAVES AND FREQUENCIES THROUGH A PROCESS KNOWN AS REVERMPLIFYING.
Is that even a real word? Your look of confusion must be evident, because he seems to be trying to "read your mind" again.
SABINE: [-o-] PLEASE. YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'RE NOT UP TO SPEED ON CORPORATE'S VERBAL EFFICIENCY POLICY?
SABINE: [o--] (REVERBERATION AND AMPLIFICATION, DUMBASS.)
You think you're starting to see Sirage's point vis-a-vis portmanteau-related time sinks.
SECILY: 19.Nxc6 So you're saying that you are able to listen to particular parts of complex soundscapes? Like during, say, the awards night you recently attended? ...Qxc6
SECILY: 20.d5 I'm only here to find out about... ...Qb7
You think you'll retire the phrase "murglary" for the night, since he's proven it's more trouble than it's worth.
SECILY: 21.g5 ...the theft. You should leave unrelated topics at the door. ...Ne8
SABINE: [-o-] I CAN, INDEED. HOWEVER, USUALLY I DROWN OUT THE BORING AND SIMPLETON-ESQUE CONVERSATIONS OF IGNORAMUSES AROUND ME IN LARGE CROWDS.
SABINE: [---] ...
SABINE: [o--] (I DID HAVE TO KEEP AN EAR OUT FOR MY HOT CHOCOLATE, THOUGH. SO I MIGHT HAVE OVERHEARD SOMETHING.)
You feel like you're onto something, at long last. You don't even register what you’re doing when you lean in a little closer in interest.
SECILY: 22.Bf4 I'm listening. ...b4
SABINE: [-o-] THE BAND COLLECTIVELY REALIZED THAT HER NECKLACE WAS MISSING AFTER THEIR FIRST PERFORMANCE OF THE NIGHT.
Wait. What?
SABINE: [-o-] THEY WERE FLIPPING THEIR SHIT OVER SOMETHING WITHOUT PRACTICAL USE. SENTIMENTAL VALUE OR SOMETHING? THE SINGER SAID SHE MIGHT FAINT.
SABINE: [-o-] HERE'S MY THEORY FOR WHEN IT WAS STOLEN BASED ON SECURITY GUARD PATTERNS AND BLIND SPOTS IN THE SURVEILLANCE SYSTEMS:
SECILY: 23.Ne2 What are you talking about? ...exd5
You know exactly what crime Sabine is referring to, but the next question leaves your mouth in a burst of desperation and denial.
SECILY: 24.exd5 What theft do you think I'm here for? ...Bd6
SABINE: [-o-] UM, THE STOLEN NECKLACE. DUH.
SABINE: [-o-] WHAT THEFT ARE YOU HERE FOR IF NOT SOME APPARENTLY PRICELESS PERSONAL ACCESSORY.
A wave of feeling washes over you. A little feeling you like to call "god fucking damn it."
You should've known he’d have no idea about the philter. You have your doubts this kid has seen so much as a playground scrap.
SECILY: 25.Rbc1 First of all, that case has already been closed. The necklace wasn't even stolen, simply misplaced. Trust me, not worth thinking about. ...Bxf4
SECILY: 26.Nxf4 Second of all, what I'm currently investigating is a lot more serious. ...Nd6
It's always a tough call, knowing who to tell information to. You shouldn't trust anyone, much less someone so potent at spreading the word. Besides, he’s just a kid — no need to get into grizzly details.
SECILY: 27.Re1 People died this time. That's the gist of what you need to know. ...g6
SABINE: [o--] (HUH.)
His eyes are hidden behind his visor, so it's even harder than usual for you to get a good read on him. You wonder if even that was a step too far for his developing mind.
Whatever. You need information.
SECILY: 28.h4 What, if anything, did you hear about "route data" that night? I know for a fact that it was discussed at the event. ...Qd7
SECILY: 29.Qh3 Spare no detail. ...Qxh3+
The "or else" is implied.
SABINE: [o--] (WELL... I HEARD THAT SOMEONE WAS WORRIED ABOUT THE INTEGRITY OF SOME "ROUTE DATA" THEY'D PURCHASED.)
SECILY: 30.Kxh3 Purchased? Elaborate on that. ...Re8
SABINE: [-o-] SOME SHMUCK GOES AROUND SELLING INFORMATION? I'D HYPOTHESIZE SHE'S BEEN DOING IT FOR SWEEPS. DEMANDS A PRETTY RING FOR IT, TOO.
SABINE: [-o-] I REMEMBER THE WORDS 'DATABASE' AND 'REAL-TIME'.
SABINE: [-o-] MY DRINK CAME SOON AFTER, SO THAT'S ALL I PICKED UP ON.
SABINE: [o--] (SHOULD'VE MENTIONED A PLACE TO BUY DECENT MODEL TRAINS IF THEY WANTED MY ATTENTION.)
This is a lot of very interesting information. You especially take note of the pronouns he just used.
SECILY: 31.Kg4 That's incredibly helpful, which I'll confess is a nice change of pace. Thank you for your cooperation. ...Kf8
SABINE: [-o-] UM, I THINK YOU MEAN THANK YOU FOR MY VISION.
SECILY: 32.h5 Excuse me? ...c3
SABINE: [-o-] MONITOR, PLAY FILE "VICTORY_353.VID" FOR THE UNINITIATED.
You follow his line of sight, only for it to land on a previously deactivated monitor hung on the wall nearby. It flickers on to a recording from that night.
Past Sabine is past-currently being handed a certificate of some kind — by none other than Hamifi Hekrix herself. He's clearly laughing his signature laugh despite being now-currently muted.
SABINE: [-o-] THAT NIGHT, I RECEIVED THE JUNIOR CREATIVE VISION CERTIFICATE BY MISS HEKRIX HERSELF.
SABINE: [-o-] SHE IS PERSONALLY VERY PROUD OF ME AND I REFUSE TO ACCEPT ANY LESSER FORMS OF PRAISE.
You initially brush this off as him fanning his own ego, but upon further inspection of the footage he's bragging about... Well. You suppose Hamifi did always have a soft spot for the little ones.
Her mask is one of the most impervious to scrutiny you’ve ever seen — a fact that you admittedly take a certain amount of pride in. Either she gives you genuine strict scorn, or nothing at all.
But caring for your race's young? It gives her purpose. A legacy.
The lady's got one tough mask, but you've seen the way her face softens for yourself. Very rarely, but you know her well enough to know that the subtle affection displayed on the monitor isn't a mask.
SABINE: [-o-] THAT NIGHT, JUNIOR CREATIVE VISION CERTIFICATE. TOMORROW, THE WORLD!
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
As for your own legacy? Saving that aforementioned world, with any luck.
>Occupation.
SECILY: 33.bxc3 You're a junior designer, I hear? At such a young age, to boot. ...bxc3
Emphasis on the word junior. Seeing the hints of grub fat on his cheeks makes you feel like the gray hairs on your head are flashing neon white.
SABINE: [-o-] MY OCCUPATION IS INDEED TO PUMP PURE INNOVATION INTO THE LIFEBLOOD OF CORPORATE.
SABINE: [o--] (BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, IT IS MY MISSION TO GUIDE ALL OF TROLLKIND TO A BRIGHTER AND MORE ADVANCED SOCIETY.)
SECILY: 34.Rxe8+ That's what it says on your job description, is it? Tall order. ...Kxe8
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S WHAT IT SAYS ON MY REDUPLIFICATION CERTIFICATE, ACTUALLY.
SABINE: [-o-] RIGHT UNDER THE PART WHERE IT ALL BUT CONFIRMS I AM THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT EVOLUTION OF TROLLKIND.
SECILY: 35.hxg6 Uh huh. Alright then. ...hxg6
This is all a little too much for you, so you'll just brush right past that last statement. You've seen enough cults determined to prove themselves fate's shepherd for one lifetime.
Especially since you’re still worried about the ones you may have confirmed actually exist.
SECILY: 36.Rc2 But what do you get paid to do, exactly? This lab screams "genetic experimentation" crossed with "radio station." You'll have to forgive me if I fail to see any junior designing happening in here. ...Rc4
SECILY: 37.Kf3 Unless you're saying you designed all of this machinery? But I would think that makes you an engineer, not a designer. ...Nb5
SECILY: 38.Ke3 Aren't you on the graphics payroll? ...Kd7
His answer is spoken with as much interest as someone being paid to watch paint dry.
SABINE: [-o-] I MAKE MONEY DESIGNING LOGOS FOR CORPORATE. DEPARTMENTS, PRODUCTS, COUPLE SKORPE THEMES...
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S A NEGLIGIBLE ASPECT OF MY NIGHTLY ROUTINE. TO PUT IT IN LAYMAN'S TERMS, IT'S "WHATEVER."
SABINE: [-o-] NOT THE MOST PRODUCTIVE ASSETS I COULD BE UTILIZING MY PRECIOUS TIME ON.
That attitude strikes you as nothing but bizarre, considering the way this egomaniacal kid has acted so far. You can’t imagine him being anything but boastful about all products that bear his initials.
You'll put away the thought for now. Instead, you're wondering why he feels so detached from the work that pays his bills.
SECILY: 39.Ne2 I'm... sure that there are better outlooks to take on your career than self-deprecation. ...Kd6
SECILY: 40.Kd3 Surely, you wouldn't be paid for it if your work was subpar. ...Rg4
SABINE: [o--] (SNRK.)
SABINE: [o--] (HEHEHEH EHEHEHEHEH!)
SECILY: 41.Nxc3 Stop laughing. What's so funny? ...Nxc3
In one swift kick to the gut, you’re suddenly reminded of the scent of freshly grown hot dogs. Or rather, you recall the scent.
Eyes on you, unabashedly soaking in your radiant waves of misfortune.
Sabine ceases his snickering and thankfully misses the warm flush of shame that courses through you.
SABINE: [-o-] YOU THINK PEOPLE DON'T PAY UP FOR SHITTY GRAPHICS, HUH? HOW NAIVE AND SO VERY FOOLISH OF YOU.
SABINE: [-o-] THANKFULLY I KNOW BETTER THAN TO OVERESTIMATE THE TASTES OF OUR WOOLBEAST-MINDED POPULATION. OBSERVE.
SABINE: [-o-] MONITOR, PLAY FILE "PORTFOLIO_322.VID" FOR THE NOOB.
The monitor on the wall switches from its earlier program to a slideshow of vibrant logos.
Perhaps... too vibrant. Man, dark colors really aren't his style.
That is to say, you're trying to find a polite way to inform him that these couldn't possibly be worth a position on the Corporate payroll. Your eyes are starting to hurt.
SECILY: 42.Rxc3 This is, um... how do I put this. ...Rxg5
SECILY: 43.Rc6+ Are you sure your monitor is functioning correctly? ...Kxd5
SECILY: 44.Ra6 Absolutely sure? ...Rf5
Given a second more of thought, you'd have likely come to the conclusion that this is the reason you don’t endeavor to talk to children on the regular.
SABINE: [-o-] ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT I AM INCAPABLE OF MEETING MY OWN STANDARDS, SECILY?
SABINE: [-o-] THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I GET PAID FOR.
SABINE: [-o-] AND THE POPULATION SIMPLY EATS IT UP!
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
You are so lost right now. Granted, you've been feeling lost for a while, but this takes the pastry fortress for most significant emotional dissonance of the wice.
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S SUPPOSED TO LOOK GOD AWFUL, REGULATOR. IT'S ALL A PART OF MY INCREDIBLY DEVIOUS SCHEME.
SABINE: [-o-] I MAKE THIS VISUAL GARBAGE AND PEOPLE PAY FOR IT, RIGHT? THIS AUTOMATICALLY MAKES ME SUPERIOR TO FAILING ARTISTS WHO TRY THEIR BEST AND NEVER MAKE IT.
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S A LITTLE THING CALLED BEING UNSTOPPABLE, I'M SURE YOU CAN UNDERSTAND.
SECILY: 45.Ke3 Is that the reason your audio work renders my think pan completely incapable of higher functionality? ...Re5+
SECILY: 46.Kd3 If I hear one more "wub" sound, I swear my skull is going to split open in protest. ...Re7
SECILY: 47.Ra5+ Do you ever actually try your genuine best? Ever? ...Ke6
Uh oh. He's scowling at you now. This is the part where you realize you can't talk to kids.
Well. Not kids like this one, at least.
SABINE: [o--] (YES, MY MUSIC IS ALSO TERRIBLE ON PURPOSE. I MAKE A LIVING THROUGH THE ABSOLUTE WORST PRACTICES.)
SABINE: [o--] (IT TAKES A VERY HIGH IQ TO UNDERSTAND MY ART, AN INHERENT QUALITY I EXPECTED FROM SOMEONE SO RENOWNED.)
SABINE: [o--] (TRY TO KEEP UP, SECILY. NEXT QUESTION.)
You're not sure if he's hurt because you called his music terrible or because you didn't realize that was the entire point.
You're done shoving your foot in your mouth, though. Moving on.
>Explore lab.
"Lab." It astounds you that this is his residence. You're still in a residential building, and yet it seems like he's trying to compete with Occeus for the Academic Excellence of the Sweep award.
You spare a moment to hope that he's doing okay, and wonder if his matesprit has been told about what happened during your investigation.
You also hope that Ellsee Raines knows that her matesprit almost died in order to protect her. That he succeeded where you...
SABINE: [-o-] OBSERVING MY WORK STATION, ARE WE? JEALOUS?
His voice cuts through the air like a ribbon. You should not dwell on these thoughts, lest you discover that he somehow really can read your mind.
SECILY: 48.Ke4 But of course. I can't say that I know many people who live in a place quite so... well-equipped. ...Kf6+
SECILY: 49.Kf3 You're certainly unique. ...Rc7
SABINE: [-o-] I SHOULD HAVE GATHERED SOONER THAT YOU WOULD BE ACHING,
SABINE: [o--] (DYING EVEN,)
SABINE: [--o] TO EXPLORE MY LABORATORY LABORATORY LABORATORY LABORATORY
You've now learned that he also has the power to make his voice literally echo, on top of everything else he's displayed.
It does a surprisingly good job at throwing off your sense of direction, actually. It's disorienting to hear his voice completely surrounding you when he's only six feet in front of you.
You power through it regardless.
SABINE: [-o-] EXCELLENT. FEAST YOUR EYES ON THE INCREDIBLY RARE GENIUSFOWL'S NATURAL HABITAT.
He presses two fingers to his forehead and looks as if he's entering a state of heightened concentration.
You hear light whirring. Before you realise it's coming from behind you, something collides with the back of your calves and knocks you off your feet.
You curse louder than you'd like as your posterior hits the cushion underneath it, and quickly gather that you're now seated on some kind of mobile chair.
A second one approaches Berare from behind, but he's ready for it. You're assuming that's why he leaned backwards and remained unfazed by the sudden seating arrangement. Call it a hunch.
SECILY: 50.Kg4 All-mother--! Warn me, perhaps!? ...Rd7
You are merely treated to rhythmic cackling as both of you are steered closer to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the lab.
Easily within walking distance, mind you. That's the most insulting part: it would have taken five seconds to get over here. You have a feeling he just wanted you to fall on your ass.
SABINE: [-o-] WELCOME TO THE ONE AND ONLY STOP ON THIS TOUR, BECAUSE THIS IS ALL YOU NEED TO WRAP YOUR FEEBLE MIND AROUND.
SABINE: [-o-] EDEZEN!
SECILY: 51.Kf4 Edezen? ...Kg7
Almost as an answer to your question, the six-monitored technological behemoth in front of you roars to life.
With the size of this thing, it looks like it might belong in the Tom Cruise Memorial Theater II. It dominates your peripheral vision when you're standing this close to it.
You can only guess at the complexities of whatever intricate systems race into overdrive with this one single word.
The rising pitch of what you imagine is one million tiny robot calculators smashing against each other reminds you that you have no idea how computers work. The thought unnerves you.
SABINE: [-o-] LOG IN.
One would normally expect a text input window if one were to say "LOG IN." Maybe a card key or fingerprint scanner if you were feeling fancy, Or just a regular key if you're paranoid about technology.
When his keyboard flips up to reveal a long, thin camera, you wonder if he has some kind of eye scanning system in place, before noting how he is definitely not taking his dark visor off.
Does it scan his sigil or something? There are only so many password input possibilities.
As it turns out, the answer is none of the above. Instead, Sabine breaks out into some kind of juvenile jig, and you notice a corresponding digital skeleton that mirrors his movements on-screen.
SECILY: 52.Ra6 This is how one gains access to your computer? This seems... wildly insecure. ...Kh6
At least he has a password system, but all it would take is a little choreography before you're in.
He finishes his jiving by crossing his arms proudly, and the screens switch to his desktop.
It's a chaotic mess, to say the least. Occeus’s was clean, minimalistic. This looks more like those conspiratorial leaked x-rays of Turnin Kaikai's digestive system than a proper work station.
SABINE: [-o-] IF IT'S SO INSECURE, I'D LIKE TO OBSERVE YOUR UNCULTURED GLUTES BREAK INTO MY SYSTEM.
SABINE: [-o-] I BET YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE NAME OF THAT DANCE, OLDBAG.
>I'm most certainly cultured.
That’s not even a lie, not by any stretch. It's hard not to pick up on a wide array of subjects when you've seen as many far-flung corners of the world as you have.
That being said, you haven't the faintest idea of what he was doing.
If only Oricka were here. She knows the ins and outs of informal cultural practices like the back of her wrench. But you can't admit defeat, not now. Your pride won't allow it.
You've read some headlines. You've got this in the bag.
SECILY: 53.Kg4 Of course I know the name. Who wouldn't be familiar with... ...Rc7
>Rhythmic body movements, >Yellow vengeance, >Fang-brushing, >Illegally crossing the street, >Adrenaline.
SECILY: 54.Kh4 ...the [dance name] dance? ...Rc3
SABINE: [-o-] WHAT? NO, THERE AREN'T EVEN WORDS FOR HOW WRONG THAT IS.
SABINE: [-o-] THAT NONSENSE ISN'T EVEN QUANTIFIABLE.
>Rhythmic body movements
SABINE: [-o-] I MEAN, YES, THAT IS A SOMEWHAT OBJECTIVELY TRUE STATEMENT, BUT IT SURE AS HECK ISN'T THE PROPER NOUN FOR WHAT I JUST DID.
>Yellow vengeance
SABINE: [-o-] DON'T ACT LIKE YOU'RE NOT SAYING THAT JUST BECAUSE OF MY BLOOD COLOR. I CAN READ YOUR MIND, REMEMBER?
>Fang-brushing
SABINE: [-o-] FANG-BRUSHING IS LAME ANYWAY. THAT'S THE EASIEST DANCE TO PULL OFF AND IT'S DEFINITELY NOT PASSWORD-WORTHY.
SABINE: [o--] (THAT'S A ONE-WAY TRIP TO BEING HACKED, PRO TIP.)
>Illegally crossing the street
SABINE: [-o-] BECAUSE AS WE ALL KNOW, I'M MORONIC ENOUGH TO VIOLATE CORPORATE POLICY AND ENDORSE THE ACT OF UNSAFE TRANSPORTATION METHODS TO OTHER CORPORATE EMPLOYEES.
SABINE: [o--] ("ILLEGALLY CROSSING THE STREET." WHAT A FOOLISH GUESS.)
>Adrenaline.
SABINE: [-o-] IF YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT THE FEELING YOU GET WHEN YOU ARE IN MY PRESENCE, I SUPPOSE I COULD ALLOW THAT, BUT YOU SURE HAVE A WEIRD WAY OF DANCING AROUND FAIRLY SIMPLE SUBJECT MATTERS.
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S NO BIG DEAL, I'M JUST THAT INCREDIBLE.
-
SABINE: [o--] (MAN, FOR A GROWN-UP, YOU SURE ARE DUMB.)
>You're right, carry on.
SECILY: 53.Kg4 Alright, you got me. I haven’t the faintest idea. ...Rc7
SECILY: 54.Kh4 Personally, I find that to be a lackluster and unfair criterion for this form of judgement, but what do I know. ...Rc3
You don't need to see his eyes to tell that he's rolling them behind his visor. Probably while internally critiquing your cultural blind spots, if the air of smug satisfaction is anything to go by..
He sure does enjoy holding the topical upper hand in casual conversations.
-
SABINE: [-o-] WHATEVER, I DIDN'T BRING YOU HERE TO PROVE YOUR INFERIORITY.
SABINE: [-o-] I BROUGHT YOU HERE TO PROVE MY SUPERIORITY!
Sabine starts typing something into his computer, and you couldn't interpret it for the life of you. It's all unknown acronyms and shorthands flashing by at blazing speeds.
You stop paying attention to his antics in favor of observing the lab around you, instead. You doubt he'll give you a tour after this.
It's surprisingly roomy in here — despite the giant mutant computer smack dab in the middle of it all.
You'd wager that’s because this is the only room he has. There are no other doors or halls beyond the entrance, his recuperacoon is right in the corner — wait, is that his load gaper???
Discreet seams on the floor surround the designated sanitization block area, indicating where the walls should be. Are they tucked inside the floor, somehow?
Before you can ask why his sanitization block walls seem to be directly colliding with the living space of his downstairs neighbor, you hear the muffled sound of...
Hot-hot, oh, we got it, hot-hot, yeah, we got it! You turn to Sabine for an explanation, and all he has for you is a grin.
SABINE: [o--] (YOU FOOL, YOU JUMPED RIGHT INTO MY TRAP! I BROUGHT YOU OVER HERE SOLELY TO REGAIN ACCESS TO MY COMPUTER FOR REVENGE AGAINST CRYTUM!)
SABINE: [o--] (NOW HE HAS TO LISTEN TO THE HOT CHOCOLATE SONG LOOP ON HIS COMPUTER FOR THE NEXT SIX HOURS!)
SABINE: [o--] (AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH)
SECILY: 55.f4 I truly do wonder why you're even allowed in a communal home tower. ...Rc7
Realistically, you know it's because of his status. Most residents of Stronghold 21 who are quote-unquote ordinary live in apartments like these.
Members of the higher shades of the spectrum are given certain financial bonuses for the sheer act of existing, due to their scarcity. It's especially rare to see them here.
SABINE: [-o-] UM, ACTUALLY, THERE'S A VERY SIMPLE EXPLANATION FOR WHY MY GENIUS IS TRAPPED IN THE DRAB CONFINES OF COMPACT CIVILIZATION.
SABINE: [o--] (TO TEST MY SKILLS.)
SABINE: [o--] (TO OBSERVE MY CAPABILITIES IN A LAYMAN'S ENVIRONMENT. CAN I THRIVE EVEN WITH THE PRIMITIVE TOOLS GIVEN TO ME?)
SABINE: [-o-] THE ANSWER IS YES.
SECILY: 56.Kg4 If it's any comfort, my apartment isn't that extravagant either. I'd wager this is actually more furnished than my place. ...f5+
SECILY: 57.Kh4 I can appreciate the dedication to your job. Even if this is frankly a little over the top. ...Rc4
SABINE: [-o-] WELL IF YOUR PLACE IS SPARSER THAN THIS THEN I GUESS I'M ALREADY BETTER THAN YOU.
You wouldn’t quite put it like that, exactly.
Charitably, you decide to not argue the point. You don’t even DARE to imagine what he would sound like if he was wailing.
As much diabolical credit as it might give him, you really doubt you have any reason to be suspicious. You've got all the details you need from him, too.
Your work here is done. You have no more business messing around with this loud, yet oddly endearing kid.
You're in the middle of mentally going over the notes you’ll recite to YVES as soon as you leave, when out of the corner of your eye you catch something that makes your blood run cold.
On his bottom left monitor, there is a flashing window, begging for attention. Begging for your attention.
A Skorpe user is messaging your little genius — and, worryingly, not for the first time.
obnoxiousAntidote.
It's not hard to skim the chat log even from a distance, the combined screen span of his operating system is massive.
The seething rage strikes you like a bolt of lightning to the gut, as you take in the words on display.
SECILY: 58.Kg3 Sabine. ...Rc3+
You keep your voice as calm as possible, trying to find some delicate way to break the ice. He hasn't noticed your alarm just yet.
SECILY: 59.Kf2 There has been an outbreak of concerning anonymous messages lately. Someone — or someones — reaching out and talking about... ...Rc7
SECILY: 60.Kg3 Troublesome things. ...Kh5
SECILY: 61.Ra3 Have you been contacted by any strangers recently? Online, to be more specific? ...Rd7
You're not sure if those quirked eyebrows are in concern or confusion, but when he notices you looking over his shoulder, he quickly runs over and closes the chat window.
Alarm bells start ringing inside your head. Mr. Know-it-all still isn't answering your question.
You need to press harder.
SECILY: 62.Kh3 Sabine... ...a5 SECILY: 63.Kg3 Who is obnoxiousAntidote? ...Rd5
You can see his stomach sinking due to your specificity. He seems bothered, but it's wiped clean from his face not two seconds later.
SABINE: [o--] (JUST SOME NOBODY DESPERATELY TRYING TO LEECH OFF OF MY BRAINS. COLORBLIND, TOO.)
SABINE: [o--] (DOESN'T KNOW A SHADE OF GOLD TEXT WHEN HE SEES ONE. LOL.)
SECILY: 64.Rc3 Hm. What makes you say that, exactly? ...Rd4
SABINE: [-o-] THE MORON THOUGHT I WAS A BRONZEBLOOD, WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY THE DUMPIDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD.
SECILY: 65.Ra3 Dumpidest. Dumbest and stupidest? ...a4
SABINE: [-o-] PRECISELY, IT'S THAT. HE IS THAT.
SABINE: [o--] (I MEAN I'M NOT EVEN... MY TEMPERATURE ISN'T...)
You both fall into silence for a few seconds. The only sound making it to your ringing ears is the new soundtrack Crytum is apparently having to listen to downstairs.
You wish you knew how to make him feel better. You really do. No matter how much he pushes your buttons, he's just a kid. Trying his damndest to act like he's okay.
After the church, though, you're twice as cautious about shoving your foot far enough down your throat to step in your own digestive system. Which unfortunately might be making things worse.
SABINE: [-o-] WHATEVER. HE'S ONLY PROVING MY POINT, THEREFORE PROVING ME THE REAL VICTOR. HIS "CLEANSING THE WORLD" SHTICK DOESN'T HOLD A CANDLE TO MINE.
SABINE: [-o-] TALK ABOUT OVERKILL.
SABINE: [-o-] DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF POTENT SOUL SAP RUNS THROUGH THESE VEINS?
SECILY: 66.Rc3 You... look like a regular goldblood to me. I honestly don't see where the notion of bronze could possibly come from. ...Rb4
That's a very small lie. If you squint, you can kind of sort of half-tell what he's talking about. Something about his hue is just a little off.
SABINE: [-o-] ACTUALLY, I'M A MUTANT GOLDBLOOD.
SECILY: 67.Rd3 Come again? ...Rc4
He gives you a look of exasperation, as if he's told you this fact a hundred times already.
SABINE: [-o-] YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND IT IF I TELL YOU SCIENTIFICALLY, BUT OH WELL. TRY TO KEEP UP.
Okay, that one DEFINITELY sounded condescending. But if you kept count on the number of times Sabine has almost offended you tonight, you would simply be wasting time.
You accept that this is just who he is. At least now he’s trying to give you a reason for it.
SABINE: [-o-] MY BLOOD SHADE FALLS WITHIN THE COLOR TEMPERATURE RANGE OF A BRONZEBLOOD. DESPITE THIS, I'M OFFICIALLY DOCUMENTED AS A GOLDBLOOD.
You open your mouth to ask him a question or two, but by the time the words come to your lips, he's cutting you off.
SABINE: [o--] (BEFORE YOU ASK, THE CHEMISTRY OF MY BLOOD IS IDENTICAL TO OTHER GOLDS AND UNDERGOES THE SAME REACTIONS. I AM NOT A MISCATEGORIZED BRONZE.)
SABINE: [o--] (GOLD BLOOD ENTERING THE THINK PAN RELEASES A CHEMICAL KNOWN AS AUSTININE. DID YOU KNOW AUSTININE IS ONE OF THE MOST REACTIVE HEMATOLOGICAL COMPOUNDS?)
SABINE: [o--] (IT'S A KEY FACTOR IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF SURVIVAL ABILITIES FOR US.)
SABINE: [-o-] THIS MUTATION IS EVIDENCE THAT I AM THE FIRST IN LINE OF A BRAND NEW GENETIC EVOLUTION OF TROLLKIND. AS SUCH I HAVE DUBBED MYSELF "INSECTO NOVUS."
At this point, you're tired of being in his echo chamber of a superiority complex. Questioning him any further is probably only going to drag your stay out longer.
And if you can read him right, this seems to be his coping mechanism for dealing with his mutation. You don't exactly know enough about blood to dispute him anyway.
SECILY: 68.Ra3 Sure. Interesting stuff. ...Kh6
As noted in the past, you're not a very good actor and he sees right through your blatant lack of exploded think pan. You guessed it would be as such, but it was worth a shot.
SABINE: [-o-] I CAN PROVE IT!
SECILY: 69.Rd3 This is very heavily derailing the conversation, I really should be... ...Kh5
SECILY: 70.Ra3 ...oh, what the hell. Fine. Show me what you've got. ...Kh6
When you feel the mobile chair from before crash back into you, you can't help but curse under your breath. You're not taking kindly to being thrown about like a ragdoll.
Your seat slides itself into place directly beside his computer, fastening with a click.
What happens next is the sudden restriction of your wrists, and a complete loss of vision as something hollow descends to cover your head.
SECILY: 71.Rd3 What are you doing? I don't know what this proves, exactly. ...Rb4
SECILY: 72.Rc3 Other than showcasing a disturbing level of ease kidnapping people. Trapping my wrists doesn't make me trust you, here. ...Rd4
SABINE: [-o-] OH, RELAX. YOU'RE NOT IN ANY FORM OF DANGER, EXCEPT MAYBE TO YOUR EGO.
SABINE: [o--] (EVERYONE ALWAYS TRIES TO TAKE THE SCANNER OFF AT FIRST SO I FIGURED I'D JUST SAVE MYSELF SOME TROUBLE BY STOPPING YOU.)
SABINE: [-o-] ALL I'M DOING IS SCANNING THE RAPIDITY AND CLARITY OF YOUR BRAIN PATTERNS. I'LL THEN REVEAL TO YOU A COMPARISON TO MY OWN PATTERNS.
SABINE: [-o-] AND THEN I'LL SHOW THE WHOLE WORLD MY GENIUS! NOBODY WILL QUESTION MY BRILLIANCE! I WILL LEAD THE REVOLUTION OF INVENTION!
SABINE: [-o-] NOT CRYTUM. NOT SOME WEIRD DEFORMED SEA DWELLER. ME. ME. ME!
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
As much as you would feel threatened by literally any other individual, you're pretty sure you heard his voice crack just now.
God damn it, you don't hurt kids.
Well, not when you're your age, anyhow. You've given a few fellow youths a bruise or two. It was well-deserved, though.
Everything you do, you do for her.
>Recall: FIRST SCRAP.
You were four sweeps old, you and Ahlina. Back when your love for her was a mere fledgling crush.
You'd spent the day prior scavenging for flowers with your lusus. Your lusus insisted it was the single best way to get someone's attention.
You had no idea how to talk to girls (make that literally anyone), so you trusted your lusus, who in retrospect was probably just after nectar. Hummingbird moths can't get enough of flowers.
The next night rolled around and you were preparing to say your first ever words to her, if any at all. You weren't particularly chatty back then.
What you ended up finding was a need to take cover and observe the storm brewing around Ahlina. Three kids, to be specific. You could hear words like "pushover" and "doormat".
You should have intervened right then. That was the first burning red flag.
But you were scared. Moreso of getting her into trouble than taking three bullies on at once. Some people bear powerful grudges.
And then the kid in the center grew tired of waiting for a coherent response from the trembling girl and shoved her to the ground. That snotnubbed motherfucker.
You panicked. Your floral gift fell to the ground and you scrambled for a makeshift weapon. Anything would do.
You ended up going with your fists.
It was three versus one. Even back then you knew it was a stupid plan, but it was worth it to see your target on the ground, curling up and clutching his cheek.
Your victory was short-lived, though. One of his cohorts suddenly had you in a Full Nelson, leaving you wide open for the third to attack.
His fist met your face and left you disoriented and with what you later learned was merely a broken nose. He should've punched harder.
You blindly traded blow for blow by giving him a kick to the torso, using the same sneaker to stomp hard on the foot of the bully holding you in place.
It gave you the wiggle room needed to retrieve your limbs back. While he was howling profanity kids his age shouldn't know, he received your elbow in his chest.
By then, all three of them were scrambling off, clearly deciding it wasn't worth dealing with your early grasp on martial arts.
They didn't matter to you anymore. Your attention latched onto the quiet sniffling from Ahlina like you'd die if you missed it.
And still, you had no idea what to say. You just took a beating for her and you couldn't even muster up the ability to say two lousy words to her.
You offered her a hand up to her feet and inspected her for any damage despite your own bleeding nose.
She broke the silence by sheepishly offering you a can of Mountain Dew from her satchel. "That looked like it really hurt," she said, "we should get that checked out."
You're sorry, Ahlina. It's all you could blurt out. You should have been there sooner.
It erupts from you like you've been choking the words down for decagrades.
You're sorry, Ahlina. You could have said anything else, done anything else. You kick yourself every day, painfully aware of it.
>You're sorry.
SABINE: [-o-] WHO THE HELL'S AHLINA?
Shit. Everything freezes when his invasive question snaps your recall in half like a brittle stick. You hadn't realized you'd been freed of the strange helmet he'd put on you.
How much of your recall was he suddenly privy to? Fuck, what were you thinking, exposing a vulnerability when he's scanning your brain?
Maybe he's right and you are just an idiot.
You still certainly feel like one.
SECILY: 73.Kf3 I... I don't think... ...Kg7
SABINE: [-o-] YOU KNOW WHAT I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. THAT SOUNDS VERY UNNECESSARILY FEELINGSY.
SABINE: [-o-] I DON’T REALLY DEAL IN FEELINGS. ESPECIALLY NOT YOURS.
SABINE: [o--] (YOU WERE MUMBLING TO YOURSELF FOR SOME REASON?? BEATS ME, BUT I COULD HEAR YOU PRETTY EASILY.)
SABINE: [o--] (DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD THE CAPACITY TO BE SO SAD OVER SOMETHING SO TRIVIAL.)
Your face is overcome with that burning hot wash of regret. Not because of him, but because of yourself.
You know damn well you're going to really give it to yourself later for the unforgivable act of fucking something up.
Letting it slip from your lips or failing to protect Ahlina all those sweeps ago? You'll decide later.
For now, you'll focus on what seems to be surprising Sabine so thoroughly on his screen, because he falls dead silent.
SECILY: 74.Kg3 Sabine? You look surprised. ...Kf7
SECILY: 75.Rf3 I think this is the longest silent streak I've heard from you tonight. ...Ke6
SABINE: [o--] (NO... HOLY SHIT... THERE'S NO WAY!)
He isn't even paying attention to you until you stand up to observe the results of his experiment.
You see a very bright silhouette of your think pan and a bunch of tiny numbers that don't mean anything to you.
SECILY: 76.Kh4 I fail to understand the significance of this image. It's all just one color. ...Kd5
SECILY: 77.Kg5 Is that in any way significant? ...Ke4
SABINE: [-o-] THAT'S THE REASON IT'S SO SIGNIFICANT. THE ENTIRETY OF YOUR RECOLLECTIVE PROCESSES ARE OFF THE CHARTS??
SABINE: [o--] (NO, NO, THIS ISN'T... CRAP. ARE YOU ALSO A MEMBER OF INSECTO NOVUS?)
SABINE: [o--] (I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE LEADER OF THE NEW REVOLUTION!)
He does realize you're still perfectly capable of hearing him, right? This is quite a step up from a stage whisper.
It most certainly is not your responsibility to look after the ego of this kid, but... there's also something to be said about clearing up misconceptions.
Yeah, that's your excuse.
SECILY: 78.Rf1 I assure you, I'm not in a hurry to overthrow you or anyone. What you're seeing is simply my own little mutation. ...Rd6
SECILY: 79.Re1+ Repiton is full of them, if anything we encourage those who have mutations to utilize them if possible. ...Kf3
SECILY: 80.Rc1 Unfortunately, perfect recall hasn't won me every match of wits the world has challenged me with. ...Ke3
SECILY: 81.Rc4 Sometimes... adults aren't as perfect as they seem to kids like-- people like you. ...Rd4
Your last misspeak didn't seem to tide him over as properly as you'd like, but he's at least talking to you instead of at you again.
SABINE: [-o-] ELABORATE.
SECILY: 82.Rc3+ On adults or my ability? ...Rd3
SABINE: [-o-] YOU'RE CLAIMING THAT PERFECT RECALL - OR THE TECHNICAL TERM: PRESERVATIVE NEUROSTORAGE - HAS THE POTENTIAL TO NOT BE 100% USEFUL.
SABINE: [-o-] HOW COULD THAT BE?
You take a deep breath and try to work out what to say to him. You take a look around the workaholic dreamscape he lives in and conclude that he thinks that raw data can solve everything.
That the world could be fixed if one last ingenious algebraic equation was unearthed from the polluted crust of the planet.
If every cog was spinning perfectly in sync, there wouldn't be a problem. So where's the broken clockwork?
He hasn't learned yet that supposedly perfect systems can and do still break.
SECILY: 83.Rc4 I was there at the awards night, too. The one I'm asking you about. ...Rd4
SECILY: 84.Rc3+ I HEARD a tiny snippet of that conversation you fleshed out for me, but lost focus, and that evidence almost vanished entirely. ...Ke4
SECILY: 85.Rc1 Every time I try to recall that conversation, I simply loop the same error, over and over again. ...Kd5
SABINE: [---] ...
SABINE: [-o-] THAT CAN BE EASILY RESOLVED.
What?
SABINE: [-o-] YEAH, ALL YOU'D HAVE TO DO IS RECALL THAT NIGHT IN MY SCANNER AND I CAN PEEL BACK THE CONVERSATIONAL LAYERS YOU OVERHEARD.
SECILY: 86.Rf1 That's the problem. I couldn't catch the conversation that night, it doesn't matter what you take from my memories. ...Ke6
SECILY: 87.Re1+ As much as I'd love a chance to travel back and hear it all, I don't think even the most powerful of the age old Time alchemists could send us there. ...Kf7
SABINE: [-o-] WERE YOU IN EARSHOT? COULD YOU HAVE HEARD THEM IF YOU WERE CONCENTRATING HARDER?
SECILY: 88.Rb1 I could have. I don't see what difference the hypothetical makes beyond Commissioner Hindsight rubbing it in my face. ...Rd2
SABINE: [-o-] IT MEANS YOU DID HEAR IT, DUMBASS. IT'S A LITTLE THING CALLED SUBRADAR FREQUENCIES.
You fall quiet, because it sounds like maybe, just maybe, he has a way for you to make up for your lost time after all.
SABINE: [-o-] THINK OF IT THIS WAY. YOU'VE BEEN LISTENING TO THE SONG COMING FROM DOWNSTAIRS ALL THIS TIME, CORRECT?
SECILY: 89.Rb7+ I've been tuning it out, actually. You really should let up on your poor neighbor. ...Ke6
SABINE: [o--] (LET’S STICK TO OUR DIALOGUE, REGULATOR. THAT’S HIS PUNISHMENT. HE’LL WORK IT OUT.)
SABINE: [-o-] ANYWAYS. THE SOUND MAKES IT TO YOUR EARS, AND THEREFORE YOUR MIND! YOU FORGET YOU HEAR IT BECAUSE YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS MIND MASKS IT, BUT THE DATA IS STILL STORED.
SABINE: [-o-] AM I MAKING SENSE OR SHOULD I GO A LITTLE STUPIDER?
SABINE: [-o-] IT'S A SIMPLER MATTER TO COMPREHEND WHEN YOU CAN OBSERVE THE WAVES LIKE I'M ABLE TO, BUT DO TRY YOUR BEST TO KEEP UP.
SABINE: [-o-] DID YOU KNOW THAT PENTOCULAR SYNESTHESIA AFFECTS 0.002% OF THE POPULATION?
Mutation trivia aside, you listen more intently to the torturous score below. It does make sense. You think you can see where this is going.
SECILY: 90.Rb6+ So when you talk about peeling back the layers, you're saying I overheard every conversation at once? ...Kf7
SECILY: 91.Rf6+ And that the data from a single conversation could be extracted? ...Ke7
SABINE: [-o-] IT'LL TAKE A WHILE FOR ME TO DECOMPILE ANYTHING INTELLIGIBLE, BUT YES.
SABINE: [-o-] I'LL SEND YOU THE FILES WHEN I RETRIEVE LEGIBLE WORDS.
SABINE: [-o-] ALL IN A NIGHT'S WORK FOR THE MAN WITH THE BIGGEST GRAY MATTER PLATTER EVER.
Say it with him, everyone:
SABINE: [--o] AHAHAH AHAHAHAHAH
Sabine, you genius. You felt sickening at first, but you've really turned around. You (Secily) give him a curt nod.
SECILY: 92.Rxg6 Thank you, Sabine. Your assistance is greatly appreciated. Vital, even. ...½-½
SABINE: [-o-] SILENCE! STOP STATING THE OBVIOUS AND GET BACK IN THE POD.
SABINE: [-o-] I’M ABOUT TO GET A LITTLE "MEMORIAL" UP IN HERE.
You sit down once more to recall the awards night.
Hopefully this is the last time you'll have to revisit past mistakes.
END