Per 
- SCP - The Thing That Doesn't Kill You.
- It's Daylight Slaying Time (w/ ch00bakka)
- Parmenidean Tango (V2)
- Spiders.
- State of Being Hub
- Planning
- Parmenidean Tango
- Industrial Golem Manufacturing
- To the Victor
A cruise missile containing an SCP-4XXX instance, under inspection by Pentagram engineers (c. 1964).
Item #: SCP-4XXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: As part of negotiations with the United States government, construction of further SCP-4XXX instances is forbidden. Four instances are contained within Armed Storage Site-200 while four are stored in an undisclosed government compound.
[stuff]
Armed perimeters have been established around all known SCP-4XXX-A regions. Joint measures are in place with the Unusual Incidents Unit to prevent the illegal use of SCP-4XXX-affected materials, along with trespassing into SCP-4XXX-A to obtain said materials. Investigation into locating all SCP-4XXX-A is yet to be completed.
Description: SCP-4XXX is a collection of metaphysical warheads developed by Pentagram,1 which, on activation, permanently implant the concept of death in a 50m radius around them. No physical damage is caused by activation. Rather, the presence of "death" causes any live sentient or sapient subjects in the region to believe that they are dead, resulting in subjects entering vegetative states in attempts to act "dead." Effects are not reversed upon relocation of the subjects from the radius.
click this link 9volt you dork
http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/collab:daylightsavings-9volt-ch00bakka
Concepts are the very basis of reality, and they are the most malleable part of it. These are the investigations of the Unusual Incidents Unit into applied metaphysics.
STATE OF BEING
« Prologue »
0. UIU File: 2014-014
It is capable of filter-feeding concepts from a particular area, as well as being able to 'swim' through solid objects.
« Act 1 »
I. Abstract Naught
From Danyal's view conceptual details were being rapidly modified and shredded into their basic components, ejecting and dissipating in a metaphysical light show.
II. Parmenidean Tango
TBA.
III. Spiders.
TBA.
More to come…
II. Parmenidean Tango
Before Chester could understand how an ice cream truck appeared in the cell, let alone how one could fit when it was larger than the room, the walls around him explode.
III. Nearing Aletheia
TBA
IV. The Traitors to Transcendence
TBA
V. Deconstruction
TBA
« Intermission »
VI. Thus Monad Lurks
TBA
VII. State of Mind
TBA
« Act 2 »
VIII. Corps Sans Organes
TBA
IX. Fractured Qualia
TBA
FUCKTON OF SPOILERS - BEWARE
(possible) Titles
- Parmenidian Tango (road battle with robodude)
- State of Mind (tale about Val and the drug addiction?)
- Semi-Existential Semi-Corporeality (tale with the severed hand creating a metaphysical version of itself)
- Anteroom to Ascension (prelude to Noumena, raid on the alt. dimension AoA facility)
- Noumena (final battle - crazy noosphere battle town)
- Concrete Reality (ending)
Characters
- Agent Danyal Vahid
- Agent Valarie (Val) Dell
- Agent Chester Romero
- Catriona Stirling
- Vilmar Troelsen
(Currently) Cut Characters
- Officer María Palomo
IDEAS
- Eating the concept of an attack - You shoot your gun at them but you never fired it, you swing a bat at them but you never swung it. The only way to fight back would be to attack without it looking like you are attacking (until they realize that's what's going on), or to catch them completely by surprise.
- Given the property of "attacks that happen to me do not exist"
- Only works when in less stable reality / near the outside
- Instead of visualizing a whole as having parts, visualizing a part as being the whole.
- "I pick up a broken piece of a bat and when I swing it, it's like it's a whole bat. or I throw a car tire at you and when it hits, it's like a whole car just hit you "
- "is a rock a part of a mountain? are we not all leftover parts of stars"
- It could REALLY powerful real quickly if exploited so be very careful when writing it
- "The person using said ability could probably be tricked into using it on themself by making them think about themselves being a part of a dangerous whole. Like, saying something that gets them thinking and then it completely wrecks them "
- "You're made of star stuff."
- Very dangerous to use properly
- The conceptech is a bunch of wires that connect to things in a set range. Once connected this fuckery can be done to the objects, and the wires can never be disconnected (though anyone can use objects affected this way, not just the person that has the conceptech)
- Making objects out of abstract concepts, i.e. a block of pain
- Changing the concepts of your appearance for stealth
- Fractal Conceptualization - Making a concept that makes itself more complicated / makes more concepts a part of itself
- If the initial concept is complex enough you could easily create an endlessly growing "god," and if the base was connected to a computer you've got a god in your control
- Likely really hard to get the base concept constructed the exact right way for that - unless you have super intelligent machines that can conceptualize it
- If the initial concept is complex enough you could easily create an endlessly growing "god," and if the base was connected to a computer you've got a god in your control
- Foundation base has an anomaly that turns people into pure concepts that are a part of reality
- Activated and turned all personnel into concepts in 2010, couldn't handle it and went mad, became (harmless) concept zombies (also mad from isolation)
- Pure concepts exist everywhere (Danyal detects it as such) but the brain handles it by making them appear as ghostly things that can move anywhere
- AOA goal is to use this, become pure concepts, and get all of humanity to use it as well
- Pure concepts can be harmed by other pure concepts
- Pure concepts can screw with how people conceptualize reality without changing it
- Conceptech that can home in on targets, always following them no matter what
- Binds to the target and slowly makes parts of the concepts involved in how people perceive them vanish
- Eventually it reaches the point where they lose all ability to perceive themselves
- Conceptspace
- All of the concepts that exist viewed as a physical plane, inhabited by conceptual entities
- Can be "recontextualized" by concept entities—perceived differently so it is less disorienting (though it'll still be a weird place to exist in)
- Concept entities would try to deconceptualize one another into individual fragmented concepts
- Turning memories into metaphysical shadow spiders that get expelled from people’s heads (vomiting spiders)
4:13:53 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: I dunno if I brought up the idea before but, whenever I return to State of Being, there will be at least one tale in which a character wields the platonic ideal of a gun
4:15:15 PM <&NineVolt> The sole principles GUN operates on being: 1) A user must fire it 2) a projectile is shot as a result, and 3) the projectile will hit its target
4:15:40 PM <&MaliceAF> so nothing about killing or injuring?
4:16:06 PM <&MaliceAF> also, I love the idea of an object defined in terms of its processes
4:16:40 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: Forgot about those but I feel those are implied in a sense when talking about a gun, but the last step would be 4) the impact will either kill its target or damage it, depending on if it is alive
4:16:53 PM <&NineVolt> Under no circumstances can these processes be broken
4:17:36 PM <&NineVolt> The moment GUN is fired everything proceeds exactly as dictated by the processes
4:17:50 PM <&MaliceAF> honestly, I like the idea that GUN doesn't define the end result
4:18:00 PM <&MaliceAF> that would be dictated by BULLET, if such a thing existed
4:18:14 PM <&MaliceAF> GUN fires perfectly, but no more
4:18:50 PM <&NineVolt> Actually that would make it interesting if the bullets aren't even ideal
4:18:59 PM <&NineVolt> they're just any projectiles that you can get
4:19:25 PM <&NineVolt> which actually opens room for like GUN firing a fucking rocket propelled grenade
4:19:41 PM <&MaliceAF> and there's no reason projectiles have to be physical, right?
4:19:48 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: Also true
4:20:08 PM <&NineVolt> Basically it has to be something that could make sense to be loaded into a gun
4:20:27 PM <&MaliceAF> yeah
4:20:53 PM <&MaliceAF> well, according to the processes, it has to be something that could reasonably be a /projectile/, right?
4:21:05 PM <&MaliceAF> if we're going by the "processes and nothing but the processes" rule
4:21:16 PM <&NineVolt> The way I see it is that this is GUN, not CANNON. It has to have some conceptual notion of being something a gun would fire
4:22:09 PM <&MaliceAF> you say that, but…
4:22:19 PM <&MaliceAF> cannon
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> /ˈkanən/
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> noun
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> 1.
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> a large, heavy piece of artillery, typically mounted on wheels, formerly used in warfare.
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> "they would cross at the Town ford, under cover of the defending cannon"
4:22:20 PM <&MaliceAF> synonyms: mounted gun, field gun, gun, piece of artillery, piece of ordnance
4:22:36 PM <&MaliceAF> key words being "synonyms"
4:22:46 PM <&MaliceAF> cannons are, in the truest sense, guns
4:22:52 PM <&NineVolt> For reference, anything you can hold I feel counts as a gun whose projectiles would qualify for GUN, like handguns and assault rifles and sniper rifles and RPGs)
4:22:59 PM <&MaliceAF> you could always make it a HANDGUN
4:23:06 PM <&MaliceAF> or a RIFLE
4:23:12 PM <&NineVolt> Because without that you'd basically get a complete and utter weapon of mass destruction
4:23:18 PM <&MaliceAF> but just GUN opens you up to cannons and artillery of all kinds
4:23:22 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: I could but GUN has a better ring to it, I feel
4:23:52 PM <&NineVolt> There's something about the sheer simplicity of GUN as a name that I like
4:24:05 PM <&MaliceAF> you lose some accuracy though
4:24:08 PM <&NineVolt> True
4:24:22 PM <&MaliceAF> you could /call/ it GUN, but have it be the platonic ideal of a certain type of gun
4:24:34 PM <&NineVolt> That's probably what I'll go for
4:24:56 PM <&MaliceAF> "This is GUN, the platonic ideal of handheld projectile weaponry"
4:25:02 PM <&NineVolt> Basically a handgun that acts as the platonic ideal of- yeah
4:25:49 PM <&NineVolt> Now, for the cheesy parts about how GUN operates that'll definitely play a role in the tale:
4:26:30 PM <&NineVolt> With the right conceptech you could feasibly change concepts of, say, a car, to make it a projectiles. Now you can shoot a car
4:26:55 PM <&MaliceAF> .s gun that shoots people
4:26:56 PM <%jarvis> maliceaf: SCP-2818: A Gun That Shoots People (written 2 years ago by djkaktus; rating: +165) - http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-2818
4:27:07 PM <&NineVolt> You can also use the right conceptech to implant some part of "yourself" into another object if you are a target.
4:27:37 PM <&MaliceAF> NineVolt: I'm gonna need to think more about this "Ideal object" idea
4:27:52 PM <&MaliceAF> 'cause that's really cool to think about…
4:27:57 PM <&NineVolt> this would mean that you can avoid getting hit by the projectile by having one other object act as part of "yourself" which can deal with the impact better than you can
4:28:31 PM <&MaliceAF> right. The only rule is that it needs to hit something defined as the target
4:28:31 PM <rounderhouse> Anyone up to crit a 1.8k word draft about time-traveling hippies?
4:28:44 PM <rounderhouse> got expanded significantly
4:29:13 PM <&NineVolt> Other course if you're making like a shield as part of "yourself" and an RPG gets launched at you you'll still be fucked, just to a significantly lessened degree than an RPG breaking down every wall in its path just to hit you
4:29:32 PM <&MaliceAF> rounderhouse: you up to read a 1.7k draft about the future, societal stagnation, and a death toll in the trillions?
4:29:39 PM <&NineVolt> Ooooh wait, bonus idea:
4:29:45 PM <&MaliceAF> *scip
4:30:00 PM <rounderhouse> MaliceAF: oh yeah i should get around to reading that one shouldn't i
4:30:10 PM <&NineVolt> What happens if you start running away from a projectile at the same speed as the projectile or faster
4:30:11 PM <rounderhouse> hit me with it
4:30:18 PM <&NineVolt> Because I'm now thinking
4:30:31 PM <rounderhouse> MaliceAF: wait as a trade or what
4:30:46 PM <&NineVolt> That if the process is immutable you wouldn't be able to fire another projectile until the first one hits
4:30:58 PM <&MaliceAF> SCP-4417
4:30:59 PM <&MaliceAF> rounderhouse: ye
4:31:00 PM <%jarvis> maliceaf: SCP-4417: The Long Way Round (written 2 days ago by MaliceAforethought; rating: +39) - http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-4417
4:31:13 PM <&NineVolt> So by running away faster than the projectile you'd basically "jam" the gun until you get hit
4:31:20 PM <rounderhouse> MaliceAF: http://firedawnfolder.wikidot.com/yurt-9
4:31:34 PM <&NineVolt> …Fuck I absolutely need to use that in the tale
4:32:33 PM → Othello joined (~PI.B5B7328.51E3DBAF.8D30963E|tibbiM#PI.B5B7328.51E3DBAF.8D30963E|tibbiM)
4:32:34 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: Thoughts on that?
4:32:36 PM <Othello> .au
4:32:36 PM <rounderhouse> MaliceAF: i think i read a draft of this at some point, lol
4:32:36 PM <Othello> .ad
4:32:39 PM <rounderhouse> howdy Othello
4:32:47 PM <Othello> Howder Roundy
4:32:50 PM <%jarvis> othello: OthellotheCat ( http://www.scp-wiki.net/why-did-othello-make-this ) has 24 pages (24 Originals) (15 SCP Articles, 7 Tales, 1 GOI-Format Articles, 1 Artwork Galleries). They have 1700 net upvotes with an average of +70. Their latest page is SCP-4725: The Insurgency's Solution at +43.
4:32:54 PM <%jarvis> othello: http://scp-stats.wikidot.com/user:othellothecat
4:34:19 PM <&MaliceAF> rounderhouse: quite possibly, it's been in the works for ages
4:35:16 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: Also, an idea I just remember: Semantic Dissociation Bombs
4:35:28 PM <&NineVolt> *remembered
4:48:47 PM <&NineVolt> MaliceAF: All of the current ideas: Converting memories into metaphysical shadow spiders, knife that defines you as intangible and consequently leads to you falling through the world and out of existence, something based on Tanhony's wasps (but weaponized, which'll be in Parmenidean Tango), a semantic dissociation bomb, defining the part as the whole, automatically stripping away layers of things that you are perceived with (your sounds, your appearance, etc)
4:34:58 PM <NineVolt> Okay, I swear to heck I'll actually return to State of Being at some point next year. Got a fair few ideas for it that I think I can start actually rolling out the tale series with now4:35:44 PM → tawny joined (noom.eht.fo.esir.eht.erofeb.tesnus|ynwat#noom.eht.fo.esir.eht.erofeb.tesnus|ynwat)
4:56:12 PM <NineVolt> Also, just to make sure an idea works in the constraints of this canon, it would be feasible for an AI to become a thaumaturge with the right degree of programming and superintelligence, right?
4:56:39 PM <&ARD> GW?
4:57:10 PM <NineVolt> I think I got an answer to this before but I can't remember for certain so I may as well ask again
4:58:49 PM <~GW> uhhhhhhhhh
4:58:55 PM <~GW> so
4:59:11 PM <~GW> this is sort of the big plot point of Dividens and Occult War 8
4:59:49 PM <~GW> which is that a sufficiently advanced AI could become a wizard, leasing to the possibility of mass-produced robot wizards
5:00:05 PM <~GW> which is why AI research is super heavily suppressed
5:01:02 PM <NineVolt> For reference I was thinking about the possibility of having an AI being used to program a variable abstract-metaphysical construct pointer ala 2719, which would get summoned into reality and used in the finale for State of Being
5:01:49 PM <~GW> SCP-2719
5:01:50 PM <+Gordon> GW: http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-2719 - Inside
5:01:55 PM <~GW> ah, right
5:02:02 PM <~GW> yeah, that seems doable
5:02:06 PM — NineVolt nods
5:02:09 PM <~GW> metaphysics isn't really thaumaturgy
5:02:13 PM <~GW> although they overlap
5:02:38 PM <NineVolt> Yeah, though I'm guessing you'd need a degree of thaumaturgy to start applying conceptech to actual reality
5:02:40 PM <~GW> could even be one of the uncontained brattains
5:02:57 PM <~GW> provide some more setup for Dividends
5:03:02 PM <NineVolt> Mmm, yeah
5:04:23 PM <NineVolt> Basically so long as I can get something like 2719 show up for the finale I'll be good, since it feels like ending the series with the anomaly that helped inspire so much of it would be fitting
5:05:49 PM <tawny> okay this sounds dumb especially because I just read it but
5:05:52 PM <tawny> what is 2719
5:05:58 PM <tawny> like what's going on there
5:06:40 PM <~GW> Conceptual fuckery
5:07:49 PM <NineVolt> tawny: Basically a device that lets you define the status of one concept as "inside" with relation to another object. Like, if you define fire as inside and you defined yourself as "going inside" you'd now be on fire
5:08:08 PM <&ARD> tawny: do you know what pointers are in comp scp
5:08:17 PM <&ARD> Comp sci
5:08:27 PM <tawny> yeah
5:08:34 PM <&ARD> It’s a pointer for real things
5:08:36 PM <tawny> okay so it's just like
5:08:42 PM <tawny> a computer, then? that does fuckery?
5:08:45 PM <tawny> I guess that makes sense
5:08:53 PM <&ARD> It’s literally like
5:09:11 PM <&ARD> A pointer
5:09:14 PM <&ARD> With none of the computer
5:09:44 PM <NineVolt> tawny: It's basically like a program with no physical connection to reality, which can be thought of to be used
5:09:47 PM <tawny> oh
5:09:52 PM <tawny> hmmm
5:09:57 PM <NineVolt> It's weird
5:09:59 PM <tawny> I guess I understand this as much as I ever will
5:10:16 PM <NineVolt> Note that it's taken me a long while to actually understand it well
5:10:30 PM <NineVolt> especially seeing as I am not in any computer science fields
5:12:22 PM <NineVolt> Main reason I'm going with this for the finale is because it's just about some of the purest conceptech you could have, and also some of the most easily abusable conceptech too
5:16:56 PM <NineVolt> I've generally got the implication from 2719 that, when used on really grand and powerful concepts, like "Transcendence," it often falters and fails to let somebody enter and become inside, but with enough pushing and repeated attempts it could be pulled off. So if you want to make yourself a god to bring all of humanity to metaphysical ascendence you'd just keep running that process constantly in your head until it works
5:17:03 PM <NineVolt> which feels like perfect finale fuel to me
ff5a00
Rough Outline (SOMEWHAT OUTDATED)
- UIU File: 2014-014
- Abstract Naught
- Parmenidian Tango
- Nearing Alethia - Battle with robot-dude (past version has the knife that makes people non-corporeal, current version eats the concepts of attacks), Danyal AoA backstory
- Deconstruction - UIU raid on the AoA members in the Reconstruction (abandoned industrial area with deactivated scrap golems and anart, closed due to golems breaking out), AoA members escape to pocket universe, minor antagonist gets killed and their conceptech hand is retrieved
- State of Mind - Val gets over their drug addiction
- Corps Sans Organes - Chester VS. the metabody of the severed hand
- More investigation
- Conatus - AoA raid the Aquarium, large battle, Gulpo killed
- Anteroom To Ascension - Battle in the pocket universe of CNC with the abandoned mines and paratech, Chester gets killed
- Noumena - Main antagonist gets killed and becomes an infomorph, Danyal fights the main antagonist in the noosphere, Val fends off the idea of the main antagonist, Danyal "dies"
- Concrete Reality - Val visits the graves of Chester and Danyal, Danyal gets stuck in the noosphere and slowly gets his information replaced by the memories people have of him
Related Tale Ideas
- Conception - Researchers create a fractal concept god
- After the events of State of Being, Agent Val Dell has a bodiless psionic thing weigh down on their mind and essentially possess them, using them as a way to interact with reality
NOTE: This is the original version of this tale. Check the V2 tab to see the current one.
"Where are the other bases?"
"…" The prisoner scratched the USB port on the nape of his neck.
"We have already found the sewer system speakeasy you kept your conceptually modified wine in, but we have not found the other two yet. Where are they?"
"…"
How much longer would it be until this man spills the damn beans?
Chester Romero looked down at a the clock on the table. Ten minutes and no progress. In front of him, behind a thick sheet of bullet and thaumaturgy-proof glass, was Vilmar Troelsen. Bald head, graying moustache, camera lens eyes with light diffracting across their surface. One of the two surviving founders of the Associates of Apotheosis. Paper files and manilla folders strewn across Chester's desk delved into the knitty-gritty of all his life's details, but by this point it felt more useful to burn them rather then keep interrogating.
"I'd ask if you remember what Spencer said, but it's clear to me that you do not realize what Paramax will be like if we send you there."
A blatant lie. As much trouble as Vilmar was proving to be the, the only alterations he made to himself were Maxwellism-based cybernetics, far too little to warrant a one-way trip to Paramax. Unusually, there was no evidence of him possessing conceptual modifications.
"Is extradimensional solitary confinement this appealing to you?"
"…" Vilmar Troelsen stared with a blank face, rapping his fingers on the surface of the cell's desk.
Next to Chester was a computer monitor with a list of all interrogation logs on it. He idly ran his finger down the screen and counted ten, soon to be eleven files. He eyed Vilmar moving his hand off the desk and along the glass, the other hand shifting to touch the wall, every finger tapping in unison.
"Mr. Troelsen, I…" Vilmar had done this every interview but it still unnerved him. "…I will be concluding today's interview. I—"
"You know where they are," He said in a raspy voice.
Chester's eyes widened. "Could you elaborate?"
"You already know where they are."
"And that is…?"
"The Three Portlands."
Chester sighed. "As I was saying, we will be meeting with you again tomorrow." If ten agents couldn't do it, neither could he.
He got out of his chair and tapped a button on the recording system, then powered down the monitor. When his eyes went up again he leaped back. In Vilmar's place was a truck that looked like a brutalist building on wheels, with "Astral Ice" emblazoned on the side in jarring cyan text. He scrambled for a red button on the underside of the desk and hit it.
"This is Agent Chester Romero, we have a problem in cell—"
Before Chester could understand how an ice cream truck appeared in the cell, let alone how one could fit when it was larger than the room, the walls around him exploded.
Testing conceptual machinery was harder than Danyal Vahid thought it would be. The agent sat in a swivel chair, wheels anchored down with duct tape, as he stared intently at a blue metaphysical projection of his hand. The metahand now had a ring floating around its wrist, a piece of technology his metabody absorbed from the machine at the Associates' headquarters, which granted him the power of… something.
It clearly modified concepts — the view of his mahogany office desk, levitating and frozen in place in front of him, proved that. The exact mechanisms that made it work were impossible to determine, though. His translucent eyepiece zoomed in on it for the twelfth time and once again it brought back no results. He couldn't analyze concepts that were a part of himself.
As he reached with his real hand for the roll of duct tape a dim light flared up in the metahand's palm. The light rested there, flowing over the fingertips like water over a waterfall. Danyal slowly stepped of the chair then lightly pressed the metahand against it. The wheels jittered, and with the sound of tearing duct tape they tore off the floor as the chair abruptly flung up, colliding with the ceiling, sticking in place. His eyepiece focused and noticed the addition of the concept "buoyancy."
Knock knock knock.
Hopefully this wouldn't look too weird. Danyal walked over to the door and unlocked it, stepping back seconds before it swung open to reveal a red haired agent.
"Danyal, are you busy right now?" Valarie Dell asked, fist clenched as they telekinetically propped the door open.
"Well… no."
"Good, so—" They pointed at the table. "Why is that…?"
Danyal manifested the metahand and waved it. A slight, sheepish grin formed on his face.
"So it's intentional?"
He shrugged. "To a degree."
Val slowly nodded. "Whatever. I'm just here to let you know that we picked straws again while you were busy with this, and you would've gotten the short one."
Danyal sighed. "If nobody else could interrogate him I know I won't be able to."
"Eh, worth a shot. Besides, you've got a better chance than the rest of us because—"
"Agents Danyal Vahid, Valarie Dell, report to Cell A-9." The intercom blared to life. "A breach has occurred. All other agents stay on standby…"
"Looks like your interview's coming early," Val muttered.
Danyal took one last look at the table before they both dashed out of his office and into the bowels of the Three Portlands UIU building.
Buying ice cream hours before the feds raided his society was the best decision Vilmar Troelsen had made in his life.
He inched his out of the rubble, one foot after the next as he moved past the shattered window and desk. The "blast" had been enough to take out all the walls around him, creating new entrances to adjacent empty cells and a clear view of a hallway. His feet swiftly stepped around the body of the agent he had been talking to, currently flat on his back with his metal hands covering his face. What did he say his name was again? Romero?
Vilmar reached down and rubbed his hand along a chunk of concrete. He clenched it. Romero's guard was down, even if he was faking being stunned or unconscious, his neck exposed. It was inviting him to give it a good pummeling. With his other hand Vilmar forced himself off the concrete and continued walking. Too risky when Romero could get up at any time.
He stepped into a long hallway. Steel walls, steel floor, security cameras facing every door. The only color to interrupt the barrage of gray was repeating orange text running along the walls that said "Detention Cell Block A." Someone watching the security feeds would inevitably catch him and raise alarms across the facility, but for the time being he was in the clear. Taking two looks down each end of the hallway he spied sets of doors, along with bends suggesting that this floor was in a U-shape. When the feds dragged him to the cell the metal blindfold blocked any potential views of the area, so Vilmar was in the dark as to where an exit is. Alas, he wasn't familiar enough with its conceptual intricacies to bring it crashing down.
Taking two final looks down the hallway he pressed his body up against the wall and skittered along it, eyes zoomed in on the right-side doors. Staying out of the middle of the hallway would keep attention away from him—
Clunk.
The right doors opened. Another agent, clad in the same damn black suit every fed seemed to wear around here, sprinted past Vilmar and into the broken cell, kneeling down and shouting. The skitter transformed into an inchworm shuffle.
"Agents Danyal Vahid, Valarie Dell, report to Cell A-9…"
He had to get moving.
"Ah shit." Kenneth Spencer walked through the hole in the wall, holding onto pillars of broken wall to keep balance on the shifting debris pile. Vilmar had torn them a new one. "Chester, are you—"
"I'm feeling largely alive right now."
"Best news I've heard all day." Spencer reached down and pulled Chester onto his feet, who began dusting off his trenchcoat while glancing over his prosthetics. There were thin cuts on his face, but it looked like his arms had taken the brunt of the damage. They were littered in dents and scratches.
"Not too injured, got myself covered before for the blast. You know what happened?"
"I was checking in on the camera feeds and watched it happen live. Did anything happen after?"
"Too busy trying to stay alive to know, but I felt someone walk over the rubble. Vilmar's out, and if you're wondering about the ice cream truck I've got no clue."
They briskly walked into the hallway and looked around.
"Did you see him?" Chester asked, "As you were heading here?"
"No. You think he's hiding himself?
Chester paced about, hand affixed to his gun holster. "If he wasn't the security cameras would snatch him up, but there's not a single record of thaumic or conceptual manipulation in there."
"Attention all staff and agents. A lockdown is now in effect. All exits and entrances to this facility will be closed until further notice. I repeat, a lockdown is now in effect."
"Well we know the records are junk now." Spencer crept toward the doors. "Do you see this piece of concrete?" He pointed to a chunk of concrete, apparently blasted out when Vilmar destroyed the cell.
"What about it?"
But it couldn't have been blasted out. "Did the explosion feel strong enough to launch this over here?"
"For starters it felt less like an explosion and more like, how do I put it, it felt more like the cell 'shattered outwards,' but no, it didn't."
The lone chunk was yards away from the rest of the debris, far larger than any of the other pieces farthest from the epicenter. Spencer unholstered his pistol in a smooth motion. As the barrel pointed directly at the chunk he felt something press against the sides of the gun, the reverbs of a repetitive tapping shaking his aim. He violently swung the gun to the left and it bashed an invisible person's hand against the wall. They let out a cry of pain and the concrete on the ground was suddenly replaced with a pistol identical to his, positioned for a quick shot to the head.
"Get back!"
Just as Spencer pulled the trigger the barrel flung itself apart, leaving a broken grip in his hand and metal ricocheting off the walls. The not-pistol lunged out of the bullet's path and sprinted off past the hallway's corner. Spencer sped around, swung his arm back, and chucked the handle. It bounced off the invisible man standing with the not-pistol. Just as he prepared to go in pursuit of Vilmar, the stairwell door swung open with Val and Danyal stepping out.
"Val, Danyal, Vilmar is down the hallway! He's switching appearances—"
Chester fired two shots at the not-pistol but it sidestepped. A mechanical room door burst off its hinges and the prisoner slipped in.
"We'll take it from here!" Val sped past and Danyal gave a quick salute to Spencer as they dove through the door frame.
Spencer turned to Chester, who was talking into a microphone extending out of an opened sideburn panel. He took a deep breath.
"…alright, good to know." Chester retracted the mic.
"I'm keeping this wing under locks." Spencer reached for his walkie-talkie. "Where are you…?"
"Headed for Storage. I have an idea."
A sea of heat rolled over Danyal as he entered the cavernous mechanical room. Past the door frame was long T-shaped corridor, bordered by two cubic tangles of machinery. Thuamic blue glows danced along the edges of tubing as the energy within them flowed out of generators and into other sections of the building, illuminating the space in a pulsing, unearthly glow. The not-pistol vanished around the left turn.
"I thought this guy had no conceptech!" Val began to run up a staircase that went along the left cube.
"So did I!" Danyal flicked a switch on his earpiece and gestured for Val to do the same. "He's probably hiding it under his skin."
A response from Val crackled in. "Is human flesh that conceptually complex that you can't see through it?"
"Yes, though I imagine his machinery works by replacing the concept of his visual appearance with those of other objects."
Danyal could see Val at the top of the staircase, walking onto the top of the cube. "If so we're gonna have a real bad time."
"Why?" Danyal rounded the left corner. "Oh."
Ahead of him was a large open space. On Danyal's right was a stairwell and an elevator, leading to an out of sight area; lining all other sides were countless pieces of repair equipment. Hung in neat racks, stacked in open lockers, strewn across crates with labels that would baffle a physicist.
"Nothing's going up the stairwell and nothing snuck past, so you're down there with him."
The metahand appeared next to Danyal's face, poked the eyepiece, melted it into a meta-index finger, then drifted a meter away from him—the largest distance it could be from him without potential loss of control and conceptual destabilization. He took small steps forward, frequently looking up at Val for any signs of alarm. Faster and faster the hand with its extended index finger whizzed around his body until it was a blur, phasing through countless objects as the implanted eyepiece waited for conceptech to touch it.
A sensation hit Danyal's mind like a bullet. Contact on the right side. The metahand instantly froze and a rapidly disassembling screwdriver launched out of the crate it was pointing at. Danyal flung himself to the ground, reached for his holster, and pulled out his pistol only to see an empty space where the crate was. Two more identical ones were behind it.
"He's switched objects, too fast for me to tell," Val said. Scraping sounds emanated from their position.
Danyal guessed. A bullet fired out and hit a crate, embedding into its metal plating. Chunks of an unidentifiable object ejected from the other crate and collided with Danyal's arm as he covered his face. The sudden pain from the impact clenched his fingers inward, pressing down on the trigger and shooting a metal detector-like device on a shelf that began to spark. The not-crate vanished and an invisible hand slunk another machine out of the mimicked crate and into the space behind it.
"Get up, help's comin' down!"
Danyal pushed himself off the ground and missed another lob of debris. Behind him a steel panel, formerly covering a section of intricate electronics, scratched the grated panels Val stood on and tumbled off the side of the cube. Light spilled out of the metahand, leaving a trail behind it as it touched the damaged detector. The concept of "bounce" activated and the device propelled off the shelf wall and ricocheted off the invisible Vilmar's back toward Danyal. The panel fell in front of him, slowed by psionic forces, tilting and deflecting the ever-more sparking detector.
"See the handle?"
"Yes?" A red lever, meant to be turned to unlock the panel from its wall, had been bent into a crude handle.
"Use it as a shield!"
It dropped to the floor.
"C'mon, grab it!"
Danyal was watching the detector. It had just bounced off the upper rung of the stairwell and was gaining speed. He'd unintentional thought about the concept of acceleration when he modified it. If the trajectory was what he expected it to be…
"Val, get back!"
Too late. The detector slammed into one of the pipes, cracking half and shearing through the pipe's metal layers. A pulsing wave of a cyan energy flowed out of it, accompanied by the sound of a low thunder. With each pulse the energy collided harder and harder against the surrounding pipes in the cube, rupturing a second pipe that began emanating the same esoteric pressure. Segments of piping shot through the top of the cube, narrowly missing Val and slamming against the ceiling.
Val rushed and grabbed onto a set of railings as chunks of the cube were torn apart. With slight telepathic coercion and the impact of a massive blast, the grating they stood on broke off of the cube and launched into air, changing trajectory as it soared. It crashed into the side of the stairwell and tossed Val into it. In an instant the ethereal glows were replaced with the rotating red glares of emergency lights. Every machine in the cube deactivated and the last waves petered out.
But there was no time to keep watching. Danyal turned to see the elevator halfway up the wall, a not-crate resting on it. He reached for his gun then halted, moving to the stairwell instead. The elevator was moving too fast for him to properly target it.
"Are you alright?" Danyal paused as the grating slid out of the dent it made in the stairwell and crumpled into the floor.
"Yeah I'm fine, I'm…" Their voice transitioned into muffled curses. "C'mon why now why now…"
"That doesn't sound fine." He was ascending the staircase.
"…brainlock at the worst— Just wait a sec!" Curses and the sound of drinking.
Danyal reached Val, who was slumped against the wall and drinking from their flask of cyan fluids. He reached a hand out and pulled them up.
"Any bad injuries?"
"Better now. Lets move!" Val didn't seem horribly injured but their was a slight stagger to their movement.
Both of them reached the top and saw the not-crate switch into something else, then turn another corner at the end of yet another corridor. The chase had to end soon.
For the past several minutes Vilmar's mental dialogue was a blend of swearing, giddiness, and prays to any form of god that he was moving in the right direction. As his fingers retracted from a new object claimed as a disguise, a tingling sensation washed over his head. In a corner of his consciousness a message flashed up.
<RKahn> Status?
He froze. Some aspect of the jail cell and the entire building had blocked all communication attempts he made. If he could receive messages from the Associates now he had to be nearing a weak point. An exit. The cybernetics in his head fully powered on and he sent a telepathic response.
<Troelsen> Broke out of my jail cell. Heading to anywhere that could be an exit. Currently being pursued by an agent with latent psionics and the traitor.
<Stirling> wait you can connect to us now?
<Troelsen> Yes. I do not know why it works.
<∀> Hold up, Traitor's still alive. Your katydid screwed its job up Stirling.
<RKahn> Are you capable of recording?
<Troelsen> Do you expect me to not do so.
<Stirling> guess so ∀
<RKahn> I would hope not. Can you currently stream?
<Troelsen> Prison escapes require more mental focus than you would expect, Kahn. I will send my footage when I am out.
The day Vilmar's recordings of the breakout would lead to the razing of this building would be the most satisfying day of his life. He turned a corner, grabbing a device that looked like a hybrid between a nail gun and an assault rifle off of a wall.
<∀> I wish thee well Troelsen. Try not to lead these idiots to us before we're ready!
<RKahn> Good. You know where to meet▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
<CONNECTION LOST>
INBOUND MESSAGE DATA CORRUPTED (>98.9%)
He sighed as he reached a door in the winding hallway. He ran his fingers along the door's hinges then watched them shatter, stepping back as it clanked onto the floor. The footsteps of the agents were thundering in the distance, drawing ever closer. Vilmar looked around the area he just entered and smiled.
In front of Danyal was cylindrical chamber, extending up and down what felt like the entire height of the building. In the center was a circular platform, suspended above the drop by girders and three walkways, each leading to a hallway. A mass of pipes pierced the platforms, running up the chamber and branching off to countless destinations. Mechanical thrums blanketed the area in a dense background noise.
"Crap, where did he go?" Val stopped running and took several deep breaths.
"Other hallway doors are locked and still standing. He's in here."
Danyal stepped off the fallen door and onto the walkway. No objects were on the platform, so unless Vilmar was attempting the scale the chambers he would be hiding behind the pipes.
There was a faint noise coming from Val's headset. "We're chasing him right now, can't talk…" they said to someone. "Yeah we're here. Better get your ass moving…"
Danyal stomach dropped as he walked further onto the walkway, gripping harder onto the railings each time the metal reverberated from his footsteps. He quickened his pace. The eyepiece rematerialized over his eye and began focusing on the surroundings, scanning for any conceptual traps. In seconds he realized what Vilmar had done.
"Val, get off the walkway!"
The concept of "disassembly" triggered and the bolts supporting the walkway burst into a shower of metal shards. Danyal rushed for the platform and dived for its edge as the world fell out from underneath him. His fingers brushed the edge but bounced off. Tumbling in a freefall, Danyal summoned the metahand and it dove below him. Soon after his body collided against a now abnormally buoyant and rising walkway. He scrambled on his back to the middle, hoping to keep it as stable as possible before he reached the platform.
"Oh thank gods," Val called out. "Get the walkway level and I'll—"
A not-door stepped out from in front of a hallway door, turning around to aim a large nail gun at Val. The gun whirred and a volley of nails arced through the air. Each one abruptly bent trajectory to miss Val with a series of telekinetic nudges. As Danyal watched the walkway drifted to its original position and began rising above it. He shifted his mass and skidded down toward the platform, lurching up as Val jumped onto the opposite end of the walkway. A second round of nails fired and floated above its targets after the metahand passed through them. The walkway teetered and they slid down, leaving it to ascend into a barrier of girders and wedge itself in place.
The actual door shot off its hinges and Vilmar dashed into the open doorway. Danyal reached for his gun, only grasping empty air, and decided to improvise. A stream of nails trailed from behind the escapee and zipped through the metahand, promptly becoming magnetically attracted to the platform railings and Val's gun.
"Danyal!" The barrel had been neatly plugged with a bouquet of nails.
"Sorry." His eyes widened. "Wait, throw it!"
"What? Oh!"
The pistol careened through the air and scraped the metahand's finger as it stretched to its maximum range. With magnetism on its mind the gun homed in Vilmar, crashing into the USB port on his neck and causing him to stumble. He flashed through the appearances of every device and detritus around him in a desperate attempt to hide but the gun's visual concepts were unchanged—a disguise-ruining beacon.
"You, Traitor." Vilmar said between wheezes. It looked like he would pass out any moment now. "We can… forgive. Aid us again and we can—"
He hoisted himself up at the bend in the hallway and collided face first with a hard, gunmetal fist.
"You have some nerve if you think any of us will join your pals," Chester said, inspecting Vilmar's face to make sure he hadn't broken his nose too hard. He turned to the duo as they arrived.
"Took ya long enough, Chester!" Val walked over as Danyal idly stood and watched the convict.
"Easy for you to say." He grabbed Vilmar's hands and locked a purple-glowing set of hypercuffs around them. "Ever tried running from Storage to Level 5 of maintenance?"
"You're the one with cybernetics. If you don't have built in wheels that's your problem."
Chester snorted. "I could arrange that. Anyways." A slot opened up on his arm and a bulky flash drive—plastered in a fading Prometheus Labs logo and etched with Maxwellist iconography—fell out into his hand. "Ready to answer some questions?" He flicked a switch and a blob of nanomachines coalesced at the front.
There were flashes of blue and the metahand was next to Vilmar's hands, fingers entwined around a bundle of thin, translucent tubes that extended from each of his fingers.
Val jumped back and looked at Danyal, eyebrows raised. "What did he…?"
"He tried to touch the cuffs. Caught him right in the act."
The metahand violently tugged and a massive tangle of conceptech wires phased out of Vilmar's body, a spindly mass that looked like a crude attempt at recreating the human body's nervous systems. A quick pinch on the brain stem facsimile and the conceptual structure broke off of Vilmar's body. It wavered in the air before cracking apart into glistening shards that faded out of existence.
"How… How could you…" Vilmar's whimpering was cut off as Chester firmly pressed a hand on his shoulder. A small camera on the flash drive analyzed the USB port and morphed into the corresponding plug. Chester jammed it in.
"Give it a few seconds. I don't know what programming changes the AoA makes to Maxwellist tech, but I believe the criminals that used this drive coded it to handle such issues."
Vilmar shook. Head twitching, fingers jittering, eyes zooming in an out with a rhythmic mechanical thrum.
"I will answer."
<Troelsen> ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
<∀> He's reconnected.
<Stirling> doesn't look like a stable connection though, if my end is fine he's in an area that's only letting signal junk through
<Stirling> wait, no
<Troelsen> ▓ ▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓
<∀> Both ends are fine for me.
<Stirling> his implants may be broken
<Troelsen> caught
<Troelsen> ▓▓▓▓▓▓ interrogated
<Troelsen> requesting shutdown ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
<RKahn> I won't do that Vilmar. You've made it through worse.
<Troelsen> requesting shutdown i cant stop myself from talking. they make me talk
Ronald Kahn leaned against the chrome pillar of a prototype Sigil Machine, coated in dusted covered graffiti tags. He blankly examined the surrounding rusted walls while his mind shouted.
<RKahn> You've made it through hundreds of worse times since '82 and you are capable of escaping this one. We won't lose you before we attain the Monad.
<RKahn> We lost Landecker and the rest but we won't lose you.
<Troelsen> im about to tell them
<Troelsen> where you are
<Troelsen> do you want that
He slammed his fist against the pillar.
<RKahn> Request granted. I've sent you the code for it.
<RKahn> I'm sorry.
<USER Troelsen DISCONNECTED>
Ronald Khan blinked his eyes back into reality. He could imagine the sounds of Vilmar limply thudding against the ground. Scooting over to a piece of anart that looked like a bench, he sat down and let his head drop into his hands.
STATE OF BEING
« Abstract Naught | Parmenidean Tango | Nearing Aletheia »
In a corner of his consciousness a message flashed up.
A hard metal fist plowed into (name)'s head and they stumbled forward, Chester grabbing their shirt collar and hoisting them up. Chester tore off a piece of plastic on the nape of (name's) neck that covered a USB port, unsheathed his USB drive from a slot in his arm, and jammed it into the port.
(name) flailed and broke out of Chester's grip, sprinting for a door before abruptly halting. He slowly stood up from his frozen run and blankly stared ahead. Head twitching, fingers jittering, eyes zooming in an out with a rhythmic mechanical thrum.
"Val, could you restrain him?"
"Sure. This is going to get messy?"
"Yes, but it won't be terrible."
They nod, clenching their hand while telekinetically locking (name)'s hands in place. Just as he began to incoherently babble Kenneth and Robin rounded the hallway's corner.
"Chester, we—" Kenneth called out, interrupted when Chester raised his hand and signaled them to stop.
OUTLINE:
- Chester interrogating an Associates of Apotheosis founder
- Founder has conceptech hidden inside his body, attacks Chester with it, breaks out of jail cell
- One or multiple of GreenWolf's characters make an appearance (Kenneth Spencer and Robin Thorne)
- Founder uses conceptech to change the concept of his visual appearance to disorient people
- ?????
- Founder gets apprehended, Chester punches him and then jams a USB drive into a US slot on the nape of their neck. A virus in the drive takes control and the founder starts spouting crucial information.
<Donnovan> Status?
The cybernetics in his head — reversed engineered from the communication implants of dead Maxwellists — turned on as he sent a telepathic message.
<(name)> I'm escaping right now.
<Donnovan> Are you out of the facility yet?
<Donnovan> If not you have to be recording.
<(name)> I'm still in and yes I've been recording since I broke out.
<Donnovan> Can you transmit what you've recorded so far?
<(name)> Look I can't talk right now, this is far from a clean getaway. I have to focus on getting this done first.
<Donnovan> Alright. Let me know when you're out. You know where to find us.
this one is never getting written
maybe look at it if you want to see what my prose game was like way back in the day
dunno
October 14, 1921
It's been ten long years since that fated day, and I can tell that you've been having the most wonderful time since then. I would be surprised if you still remembered me, as there has been much ado recently with your company. However, I hope you have the time for this.
I request that you meet me at Gerald's Hill, the 18th, 12 PM. If not, I will visit your manor and meet with you there.
This is not a reunion.
Proper dueling rules and attire. Same stakes as before.
Cédric Morgan
Keith Cordell stood at the edge of a tall, grassy hill, looking out at the rolling plains and distant towers. The black silhouettes of metaphysical structures and large skyscrapers were blanketed by fog, lit blue by the faint sunlight that could get through the clouds. A narrow road extended from the city and into the forest behind him. It was one of the few wildernesses of the Three Portlands that was extant, the rest smothered in infrastructure. Most native life was gone, though.
A breeze ruffled his black coat and the autumn grasses. He placed a hand on his trilby, making sure it wouldn't be blown away. It had been two hours and Morgan had not arrived. The only vehicle he had seen driving along it was a police car—luckily heading to the city. There was nobody around and no sign of activity as he walked here. If he was be coming, he would be visible somewhere on the horizon. Cordell glanced at his wrist watch. 12:00 PM. He looked again, turning around when he heard the crunches of leaves behind him.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
A tall man wearing brown attire and gray Homburg stepped out of the woods. His right hand rested on a revolver's handle, placed in a leather holster. His left was gloved and clenched into a fist. A bag hung off his belt, holding something bulky. The clothes had no unusual features. Morgan glared.
The breeze returned and scattered fallen leaves.
Neither person spoke. Every greeting Cordell had thought of broke down. There was nothing that seemed appropriate to say. He unbuttoned a coat pocket and retrieved their revolver, bright silver with a large cylinder placed on top.
"So," Morgan said. "Ready?"
"Yes," Cordell responded.
The two walked towards each other.
"About face," he said. They spun around, their backs inches apart.
"With honor and dignity," Morgan muttered.
Cordell took a deep breath. Hopefully this would go the way it had went before. "Three paces, start."
"One," they said in unison. "Two."
At the second pace Cordell's foot was at the edge of the cliff. Another step would leave a bloody mess on the rocks below. He rapidly whipped around to see Morgan doing the same. He aimed and Cordell kicked a small stone towards him with his steel and leather boots. A shot was fired as the pebble landed nearby. The bullet broke mid-air as a complex thaumaturgic symbol arranged from stones was completed. Cordell ran around it as another bullet fired and broke.
"Dammit!" He tore open his bag and whipped a blue-gray rectangular gun, tossing the revolver aside.
Cordell leaped into bushes at the edge of the forest as rocks were kicked aside to destroy the barrier. Another bullet rang off and pierced the foliage. He scrambled through the twigs as two more bullets were fired at him, and let out a brief shout. He wasn't injured, but feigning it would buy some time. Struggling to look through dark leaves and wood, he saw that his pant pocket holding the additional ammo was gone. Briefly glancing around he spotted the remains of a revolver clip and bullets; which had been reduced to slivers of metal. A bullet shouldn't be able to do that.
Crunch, crunch.
Six bullets in the chamber.
Crunch, crunch.
Morgan was approaching. He should've fired by now—maybe looking for him to save on ammunition. Cordell struggled to not make a sound as he raised his gun. Something blocked the light coming through the gaps in the leaves. He fired. Metal clanged against metal and he heard a gasp.
Five bullets.
Cordell dashed out into woods, speeding along with his body close to the ground, aided by the thaumaturgic runes on his boots. More bullets flew by him and he slid behind a tree.
Crunch crunch crunch… Morgan was rushing towards him.
"I thought you would be less cowardly than this, Keith," he said between pants. "Too worried about loss?"
Cordell thought about his options as the crunches came closer. Lunging to either side could get him shot. Ahead were much denser trees, and he could easily hide. No, he wouldn't flee. Then…
He jumped into the air and reached for a high tree branch to the right. Morgan shot and the bullet went past Cordell's head. As the bullet went by he saw it erase part of the tree next to him, without it even touching it. Wind blew past him to refill the vacuum trail that it was leaving behind.
"Enjoying my new gun, Keith?"
Cordell grabbed a different branch that was then broken off by another bullet. He boosted off the tree trunk and into the canopy.
"Some monks said that these transport matter to another world, one that's never been visited," Morgan continued to say as he let off another round, narrowly missing the boots.
Keith looked down from the thick branches he stood in. There was a bleeding scratch on Cédric's face and a hole in his left sleeve. There wasn't enough light to see what was in the hole, but it seemed to be metallic.
"Hope you're curious about where that place is!" he said with an irritating grin. He fired two more shots, both carving through branches near Keith.
The orange leaves were enough to keep Keith hidden, but any movement would cause rustles. The only cover for slow moving would be when a breeze comes by, though he hadn't felt one in a while.
Cédric began to spin the gun around. "Don't know why the monks were building weapons, but I can't complain!" He paused. "Any reason why you only brought a revolver? The owner of Star—excuse me, Hephaestus Industries would be more prepared, no?" A sigh. "Well, it's a good advantage to have. Back in my younger days I was asked to participate in a dangerous venture…"
He was talking just as much as he did at the bar, and it was still infuriating. "I don't care." Cordell's eyes widened as he realized he gave away his location. He aimed for the head and shot. The bullet collided into the homburg and ricocheted into a far off tree. Morgan was more prepared than he had expected.
"Fucker!"
Four bullets.
Cordell lunged out of the tree as a bullet destroyed the runes of his right boot and a slice of skin. The left boot continued to function, but sent him careening at an angle into another tree. He grabbed a branch to slow his descent, landing shakily. Speed was no longer on his side. He looked behind to see Morgan opening a panel on the side of the gun's handle and jammed bullets in. Firing another bullet could end the duel, but he couldn't trust his aim.
Crunch crunch crunch.
He sprinted between tree and tree as the gunfire resumed. Running away should exhaust Morgan to the point where he would rest, then a good shot was guaranteed. As he ran the forest became denser, giving more cover while reducing movement.
"Damn coward, don't want to lose your livelihood now do you!"
He fell to the ground and avoided two bullets that went through the tree behind him.
"Don't want your wife to leave you because of money loss…"
He scrambled out of the way as another bullet landed by his feet. As he attempted to regain footing the right boot propelled him into a clearing.
"And be forced to poverty and crime…"
Thanks to ??? for crit
Third Law Hub blurb: When revenge and ownership are on the line, the formalities of dueling are an afterthought. Written by 9Volt.
Hephaestus Industries is an early paratech company, that had initial success but fell apart
5:04:45 PM <@TyGently> third law characters go https://usercontent.irccloud-cdn.com/file/0oQtnJRg/53b.png
5:06:35 PM <~GW> bardeen is neutral vers, obvs
5:06:57 PM <~GW> you may ask
5:07:05 PM <~GW> how does a mainframe have sex
5:07:08 PM <~GW> I say
5:07:14 PM <~GW> you lack imagination
5:07:15 PM <NineVolt> TyGently: Agent Val Dell is probably a neutral top
5:07:18 PM <NineVolt> err
5:07:20 PM <NineVolt> lawful top
5:08:10 PM <NineVolt> GW: I'm imagining something like when Wintermute communicates through areas reconstructed out of memories but in a sexier manner
5:09:12 PM <NineVolt> TyGently: Agent Danyal Vahid….. neutral vers I guess
5:09:13 PM <~GW> Bardeen hacks into the Maxwellists hivemind for that sweet phone neural sex
5:09:45 PM <~GW> still need to write that Maxwellists erotica, btw
5:09:52 PM <NineVolt> GW: Do it
5:09:59 PM <@TyGently> casey: lawful top
5:09:59 PM <@TyGently> adam: neutral bottom
5:10:05 PM <~GW> C A R E S S OF S T E E L
5:10:16 PM <@TyGently> did that post twice
5:10:24 PM <@TyGently> fun
5:10:50 PM <~GW> Maxwellists sync up their brainwaves during sex so they both orgasm at the same time
5:11:15 PM <~GW> Using neural interfaces for what we all know they'd be used for
5:11:20 PM <~GW> hot cyber sex
5:11:22 PM <NineVolt> GW: I'm imagining Neuromancer-style imagery but having that throughout an entire tales-worth of sex
5:11:44 PM <~GW> hahaha
5:11:47 PM <NineVolt> I don't know what else neural interfaces should be used for besides from cyber sex
5:11:53 PM <~GW> god, neuromancer has some
5:11:57 PM <~GW> p. bad sex scenes
5:12:12 PM <NineVolt> Yeah the sex scenes I've read through were pretty cheesy
5:12:19 PM <~GW> *straddling case* "btw, did you know my tears go through my nose"
5:12:38 PM <NineVolt> (currently near the last third of the book)
5:12:59 PM <~GW> "let me exposit about my implanted sunglasses while I hump you"
5:13:09 PM <NineVolt> does that actually happen
5:13:21 PM <~GW> I'm exaggerating a bit
5:13:22 PM <~GW> but
5:13:36 PM <~GW> Gibson is great at prose, but bad at sex
5:14:35 PM <@TyGently> - inscription on the third law writers' shared mausoleum
5:14:39 PM <NineVolt> The only problem with having sex with a cyber chick: The mind-blowing orgasm may also blow out their exposition on their cybernetic implants
5:15:43 PM <~GW> the problem with having sex with a cyberhacker is that they go *hacker voice* "I'm in" everytime they start sex
5:16:15 PM <~GW> and that's really a pretty big turn off for most people
5:16:33 PM <NineVolt> You never want to hear them say "I'm installed the virus into the mainframe" while they are going down on you
5:16:39 PM <~GW> hahaha
5:17:01 PM <~GW> they shout "upload complete!" when they come
5:17:07 PM <@TyGently> that's never an issue
5:17:10 PM <@TyGently> they always use trojans
5:17:15 PM <~GW> pfffft
5:17:18 PM <NineVolt> lmao
5:18:17 PM <NineVolt> "Sir, did you just ejaculate while flatlining?" "Don't question it."
