People you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley

[18th Shard he/him]

On 3/1/2020 at 11:33 PM, Sorana said:

Mike nodded and finally reached out for the gloves, put them on. They were cool to his touch, but they fit him well. He extended his fingers once, twice and finally took them off again and put them into his pocket. "Thank you." He said quietly and perked up when his device made a soft sound.

He wants me to practice with you. But I don't know. Only if you really want to. He typed back to Wes, afraid that Xanas would push his friend to do something he didn't want to. Where are you?

He put the device away again and followed Xanas over to the forested room. He was about to step inside, when he realized what he was seeing and stopped, mouth opening in awe. The trees were large, looked healthy despite everything he had expected in a place like this. "You want me to climb the trees?" He asked, unsure how a hedge clipper might help him to pluck some kind of fruit. Carefully he took a few steps inside, the strong scent of ripe fruit and a forest nearly overwhelming. From library to forest in nothing but a few steps. Turning around he made sure that the door was still there, and while it was, it looked strange, as if misplaced, despite the ceiling arching overhead.

Following Xanas example he plucked a brown fruit from the same bough and took a bite. It was sweet, with a hard seed hidden inside. Grinning at its taste Mike found himself pluck a second one and shortly afterwards a third. He hadn't noticed that he was starving, had spent nearly a day running around, fighting, and running around some more. "This is fantastic." He admitted loudly, although he made sure to keep an eye on the guards. You never knew. And he wouldn't be too surprised if they started to walk around soon.

@18th Shard

@I think I am here.

"Of course it is fantastic. I kept this orchard growing in a time bubble for almost two millennia to selectively breed the trees to maximize taste. Some of the species are native to Roshar, and are therefore quite difficult to help adjust to a different climate - it took centuries before they would grow in soil. It's a taste of home for me. You don't have to climb the trees - I was just noting the best fruit is generally up top." He gestured at one of the statues, which began to collect some of the limafruit from a nearby tree.

"The room is large enough I imagine you could do whatever practice or training routine you want. I've never really done that portion of an experiment before without copperminds, so I am not entirely sure how to start in this case. Generally, I believe, developing muscle memory and a general familiarity with one's weapons are among the first steps, but I'm no combat master - it's messy stuff, getting in a fight. I prefer to simply avoid all of that if possible, leave that to those who enjoy being expendable or maimed. I prefer the nice, calm control room. Overwhelming force is a response far more my forte."

Xanas made some notes on the fruit's taste - it seemed as if the gardeners had forgotten to prune appropriately to maximize exposure to the artificial sunlight - which meant an uneven ripening on this particular harvest. What am I still doing here? It's not like me to get so caught up in an experiment. Too many confounding variables if you don't use a double-blind experiment. Maybe I should give Mike some space to try out the motivators. Xanas couldn't deny a part of him wanted to leave it all behind, start over with a new experiment. But every time he considered it, he could feel a weight, a responsibility, that he couldn't escape anymore. Confronting his own mortality, being imprisoned in the Void, seemed to have done what all the philosophy and study of his past life hadn't been able to do: remind him of his own conscience. Storming morality. Can't even try to spike it out any more. Xanas had spent millennia trying to get over this - and he'd thought he had succeeded. He felt Tsarik's handle, remembering the oaths he'd sworn. "I will be guided by logic, not by emotion." Even after years compounded upon years, Xanas couldn't seem shake the chains of his emotions.

@Sorana

[+Sorana she/her]

Mike took another bite of the fruit and gratefully accepted one of the limefruits the statue offered to him. When he took a bite of that one, his eyes widened in surprise and he found himself smiling. Xanas was right, the one's from the top of the trees were so much better. Grinning he quickly finished the fruit and reached out for another one.

"What kind of control room?" He asked curiously and lowered the fruit for a moment. "Is it like a huge room with everybody watching devices and giving instructions for others?" That was how it worked when he was on a mission, but somehow he had a feeling that Xanas wasn't talking about that kind of control room. It was only then, that Xanas other words struck and he continued quickly, without waiting for a reply to his first question.

"So you grew that place in a few minutes, hours?" He turned around his own axis staring in awe at the trees growing around him. Xanas had only returned to this place a short time ago, that was the reason why they were talking in the first place. So if he grew the orchad in a time bubble, then this place was younger than he was, a recent creation. Awed he walked over to a tree and placed his hand on it's bork. "I never expected to find something that beautiful here." He quietly voiced his thoughts. "It's awesome."

@18th Shard

[Zephrun’s Imperium they/he]

Quote

‘Ey, Snip, waitin’ on you  

@Snipexe

[18th Shard he/him]

On 3/19/2020 at 0:40 AM, Sorana said:

Mike took another bite of the fruit and gratefully accepted one of the limefruits the statue offered to him. When he took a bite of that one, his eyes widened in surprise and he found himself smiling. Xanas was right, the one's from the top of the trees were so much better. Grinning he quickly finished the fruit and reached out for another one.

"What kind of control room?" He asked curiously and lowered the fruit for a moment. "Is it like a huge room with everybody watching devices and giving instructions for others?" That was how it worked when he was on a mission, but somehow he had a feeling that Xanas wasn't talking about that kind of control room. It was only then, that Xanas other words struck and he continued quickly, without waiting for a reply to his first question.

"So you grew that place in a few minutes, hours?" He turned around his own axis staring in awe at the trees growing around him. Xanas had only returned to this place a short time ago, that was the reason why they were talking in the first place. So if he grew the orchard in a time bubble, then this place was younger than he was, a recent creation. Awed he walked over to a tree and placed his hand on it's bark. "I never expected to find something that beautiful here." He quietly voiced his thoughts. "It's awesome."

@18th Shard

"The control rooms in combat situations tend to be large rooms with communications equipment connected to the Dark Alley denizens in the fight. I prefer to help with the Alleymatic portion of the fight. If the Dark Alley actually has to involve me in a fight, then the combatants tend to be highly Invested, and so the problem isn't usually the martial capacity of the participants, it involves analyzing the individuals and determining where they derive power from, then disrupting that connection. Often Alleyways made in just the right way can be constructed around an individual, providing a Denizen with Investiture and depriving their opponent of it. I am partial to moving Shadesmar just a micrometer out of sync with the Physical Realm - that tends to cause a temporal displacement of the Investiture by a few seconds. I am one of the few Denizens who could be sufficiently precise with Alleys to be viable to use them in combat. Or at least, I was, a couple millennia ago. That's around when I planted these trees. There are micro-Alleyways embedded near the roots, siphoning crem from parts of Roshar and giving it a trickle of water from the Bright Sea. I kept the original plants in a bendalloy bubble for almost ten years or so, checking in every generation to make sure they were crossbreeding properly. I could have spliced the genetics of the plants together, but there is a certain beauty that you can only find when something is done by nature. It is perhaps one of the few truly peaceful places I have left." And then on a whim, I bring a child here, to practice combat. Xanas felt a twinge of anger, not at Mike, but himself. It had been millennia since he had done joint experiments. Rarely, if ever, had he taken a colleague with him when he left a lab, and so he had never had to adapt his habits to account for others. He took a breath, held it, then breathed out. It was strange how calming it was, in spite of the fact his body didn't require oxygen anymore.

Xanas gestured to a small clearing in the middle of the trees. "I suppose you could practice using those motivators, just keep summoning a hedge clipper or something, repeatedly until you're used to how they work." Xanas walked deeper into the orchard, into a small dark patch, where the leaves of trees above perfectly interlocked to block out the light.  Hanging Tsarik by the sheath on a knot in the wood, he sat down on a small bent tree, one that he had shaped as a bench while it was growing. He bent to the ground, picking up a short branch that had fallen, one that was about 5 centimeters thick, and a deep, dark, almost black, brown. He drew Tsarik and cut the branch into a piece a little longer than his fist, then set the sword back into its sheath. He pulled off his gloves. If Xanas was going to tell Mike to learn his new powers, it would be hypocritical not to do the same. He closed his eyes, held out a finger, and started tracing a narrow pattern along the top of the branch of the wood. As his finger brushed certain points, he began to Voidmake the top layer, carving a simple repeating pattern, a central line, branching off, bending and twisting, winding its way around and around. He continued until he reached the edge of the branch. Xanas might not be able to Forge anymore, but the simple practice was both calming and challenging enough to be soothing. He could feel the darkness inside consuming his emotions, and pictured a small flame sitting in the Void, consuming all the thoughts and worries in his mind. The Flame sputtered, and then went out, the dark spike in his still heart becoming cold to the touch. He continued to shave portions of the engraving by minuscule layers until the pattern was clear - Alleyways twisting in on themselves, spiraling out from a single little hole in the center, a hole that reached deep, all the way to the heart of the piece of wood. No forgery could ever fully capture the shape of the Alleys on its head - there were far too many that obeyed natural laws far too little - but the bigger the Forgery, the more precise you could be. Somehow, the Stranger and Voidus had managed to capture the whole thing on the Worldspike. As you looked down on its head, you could keep zooming in and in, details fractally dividing into infinity, not only mimicking, but defining, reality. Every other Forgery in the Alleys only approximated the original one found there. Xanas opened his eyes and blew on the top of the stamp before remembering that there was no dust. He flipped over the stamp and began carving.

@Sorana 

Quote

For those who have read the Wheel of Time, I found this quote on the Flame and the Void meditation technique from Rand: "'Remember the flame, lad, and the void.' It was an odd thing Tam had taught him. Concentrate on a single flame and feed all your passions into it—fear, hate, anger—until your mind became empty. Become one with the void, Tam said, and you could do anything."

 

[+Sorana she/her]

Mike wanted to ask another question about the plants, honestly curious about this project, about the way he had managed to create these wonderful plants, but when Xanas turned around, started to concentrate on his own powers, as if he was training and so he kept quiet. Training. Someone like Xanas didn't need to train. Maybe he did it, to put Mike at ease, to give him a chance to practice without being judged immediatly.

Slowly he put on the gloves. They felt cool on his skin, but as before they were comfortable and he stared at them for a moment, unsure what to do now. A weapon, first he needed a weapon, and then - give his powers away or get the weapon in his hand. It was as easy as that. Mike picked up a hedge clipper and ran his finger over its curves and blades, trying to memorize it. It was a hedge klipper. Shard, heavy and able to cut through thick branches. In a fight, it would be easy to heavily injure someone if you hit the right spot.

He placed the klipper on the ground nearby and stepped back. Loosening his shoulders he opened his hand, as if he was reaching out for something and then closed it again. His fingers curled into a fist and he grimaced, stared at the klipper. It couldn't be that difficult. It was only a klipper. Concentrating he pictured the klipper in his hand, tried to see himself holding it. Closing his hand again he exhaled frustratedly and grit his teeth. Hand open. Close it. Nothing. Hand open. Close it. Nothing.

"Come here, you stupid klipper." his voice left his mouth in a hiss and he extended his hand to his side. The klipper stared back at him mockingly, not moving a single inch. "I said, you come here." Mike took an angry step forward and pointed at the ground. His narrowed his eyes at the klipper, angry and annoyed by the way it was mocking him. Xanas expected him to succed to deliver, he would be keeping an eye on him, no matter what he pretended to do. If he failed, Mike took a step away from the klipper, turned around to the door and took a small step towards it. If he fled, if he left, then Xanas wouldn't find him, and - with a sigh he shook his head. It was no use. He had no idea what to do and if he was running through the alleys, it would lead him nowwhere. Only to more fear and more pain.

"Xanas." He said quietly and neared the man, but kept his distance. I never learned how to control the animals, I have no idea what to do with the motivators. Only a short sentence, nothing more but a short sentence admitting his defeat. "I-" he started and stopped, the words stuck in his throat. Failure had never been an option. If he failed, he would be hurt, if he failed - swallowing he tried to speak, to explain what had happened so far, but nothing came out of his mouth.

@18th Shard

[18th Shard he/him]

Xanas sat in the quiet stillness, eyes closed, hands brushing over the wooden stamp. Shadows danced across his fingers to a Rhythm the listeners had called the Rhythm of Silence - a cadence bearing only the slowest points of the Rhythm of Peace, muted and flat, as if the tune had been pressed into a two dimensional image. Carvings upon carvings layered across the stamp in shapes that should have been impossible to carve - an emptiness beneath solid wood here, a twist against the grain there. Thoughts appeared in Xanas's mind like sparks at a blacksmith's anvil, extinguished as the oil of the Void quenched them. Frost creepingly crystallized on the ground beneath him, and groans creaked through the tree bark. A voice echoed in the darkness, an annoyance, but not one of consequence. There was no reason to concern himself with the young man muttering inanely. There was only the darkness, the eye in the storm's center, the silence. Leaves rustling, twigs snapping - impeding, like stones tossed carelessly into the still waters, like footprints in a manicured garden. 

"Xanas." The voice, quiet, screamed in the silence. Didn't he understand that he was disturbing nature? The Void surging, pooling around his hands, spinning like sublimating ice into the air around him. "I-" Xanas's eyes bled black, pits where even light feared to tremble, shadows so deep even the natural darkness around him seemed to recoil. The air currents swirling from the boy's breath, disturbing the still air, his body heat leaching into everything he touched like a cancer of thermal energy. Xanas looked up at the child, his left hand crushing the stamp into a smoky powder, burning it out of reality, his right hand reaching out to rend the child's breath from his lungs, to pull his very soul into an eternal abyss and - Xanas met Mike's eyes, and something broke. The darkness rearing inside him seemed to shift. Xanas could feel it, raging, like a river, begging to burst its dam, but Xanas's will reasserted itself. He would not give in to that darkness. It chafed at his restraint, blurring in along the edges of his vision. He reached out to the tree to his right, arcane symbols and Forgeries carving themselves across it surface, the darkness within delightfully draining into his world. His sclera bled back to white, his iris back to the dull grey of a Lifeless. Xanas could feel the Void he had pulled here, into his sanctuary. This is a dangerous well to draw from.

Xanas's head tilted as he looked at Mike. "You're an extrovert, I assume? It seems to be a dominantly breeding trait these days. In my experience, the extroverts never seem to understand how taxing it is for the rest of us to just keep talking." Mike's hands seemed to tighten just a hair, the motivators still on his hands. He didn't seem to be excited; in fact, his posture was more hesitant. Of course. He can't get them to work. "They're not a weapon, Mike. Not really. It's a little bit like an Aviar - you need to connect with it as a part of you. You can't just brute force them into working - you have to find the power, already a part of yourself. Reflect inward, and you'll feel something new and old all at the same time. That's what you're looking for. At least, that's what it feels like to this old, self-aware introvert." 

Xanas closed his eyes again. "If that doesn't work, I can always command the gardeners to try to kill you. Adrenaline also seems to help kick motivators on." He opened his eyes for a second, smiling. "Don't worry, they are slow, rusty old things. Nothing more deadly than tetanus is too likely to happen." Closing his eyes again, Xanas began to breath in and out, slowly. This time, don't start ripping pinpricks in the fabric of the universe.

@Sorana

[+Sorana she/her]

Mike stumbled a step backwards when he saw the pitch black eyes, when the man whirled on him, ready to tear him apart. His hands starting shaking, and while he heard Xanas speaking, the words blended together while he felt his chest contrict and inhaling turned into a chore. Words, more words, an explanation maybe, but he couldn't grasp them, not while he was trying to breathe. Another step back, legs twitching as if they wanted to give up on him, eyes darting to the side, looking for a good place, a place where he could hide and vanish, disappear forever.

Then finally the eyes were closed again, the words stopped and he found himself turning around, nearly stumbling into a tree and running, steps unsure, towards one of the sides of the room. Hide. Mike tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and it turned into a strange cough and he stopped, cowered next to a tree. His hands shook, shook so much that it took him several tries to remove the gloves, to pull them of his fingers and drop them to the ground. Finally he could press his hands again his face, his mouth, his skin slick from tears. Biting down on his arm, he muffled his sobs, his body shaking in silence, his heart beating so fast, it was nearly ripping his chest apart.

Out of habit he reached out for Squid, wished that he could feel his little friend, holding on to his hand. But there was nothing. He couldn't return to the darkness, couldn't see them, dead, Squid was dead. He had forgotten, somehow it had been lost between the medallions and the motivtors and the kindness Xanas had shown him. Wolf was gone, Squid was gone, they were all gone, lost forever and there was nothing, nothing he could do about it. Mike pressed his forehead against his knees, curling up tightly, his body pressed against the tree, silently wishing for someone to find him, to pick him up. For all of this turning into a bad dream, something to forget about in the morning, to joke about and maybe even something to tell his friends about. But nobody came, and nobody would come.

He was in the Alleys. And he was alone.

@18th Shard

[18th Shard he/him]

Quote

This thread has moved into Era 5.

Xanas Khaevarin opened his eyes. A wave of vertigo passed through him as fluorescent lights shone in his eyes. The concrete beneath him was cool to the touch. Xanas pushed himself into an upright position. Sterombeck was kneeling at his side. The eldritch abomination waved a grasshopper-like appendage at him. “Sir, you fell and blacked out. We tried to wake you, but nothing was successful, so we just had to wait it out.”

Xanas rubbed his eyes as if he could clear the darkness hovering like saa in his vision. What a headache this was growing to be. “How long was it this time?” 

“Almost 30 minutes, sir, though we are in a bendalloy bubble, so I am not sure of the time outside.” Xanas stood, dusting off his dark cloak. He’d once used a white one, before he’d realized how easily blood spread. The darker one had lasted him quite a while – you could only see a few of the bloodstains near the hemline. 

“Sir, if you need, I can collect the subject tonight…”

“No need, Sterombeck. I am perfectly fine. We will discuss this issue another time. This subject is important – his bloodline is significantly purer than many of those who’ve recently made their way to this forsaken planet. We wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to acquire him. Besides,” he smiled darkly, “it wouldn’t be right to miss a Day of Rebirth, now would it? Mac was a dear friend. I must honor him correctly if no one else will.” 

________________________________________________

In a dark forest in the middle of a forgotten Alley, a man in a white robe stirred. A pair of metallic gloves lay on the ground next to him. Another pair of gloves sat in the dirt a few meters away. He was alone in the darkness, except for the ancient trees and a dead sword. He opened his eyes. They were black.

[18th Shard he/him]

Quote

Thanks to @MacThorstenson who looked over Cam's dialogue and made some important suggestions on how HR really works (mostly, it requires more forms)!

Xanas stood in a large Alleyway filled with fog. Sterombeck stood next to him with a rangefinder, while another Denizen stood in line with them about twenty paces away. Several other Denizens stood about 100 meters away, holding signs with ever decreasing texts – like a magical ophthalmology exam. The Tineye spike Xanas had procured earlier was proving to be somewhat stronger than the Alleycity standard – outdistancing it in sight by a factor of almost 1.5. Xanas nodded to Sterombeck, who began signaling the testers to move farther back. The day had gone well so far – the new koloss bindpoint subject had lasted longer than their previous tests, surviving almost an hour before his heart gave out, and Xanas hadn’t suffered any blackouts with others nearby. So far, all of his tests on the blackouts had come back negative, but he was currently trying to allow any foreign investiture to completely be removed out of his system to determine if he was suffering some kind of allergy-like reaction to a particular source of investiture.

As the Denizens began holding up their new signs at 125 meters, Xanas felt a tremor run through the Alley. He held his hand up, and Tsarik formed into a long, thin sword. Xanas wasn’t a combat specialist, but many of the abominations that leaked through from other Alleys were unintelligent. An Alleyway formed near the rear of the room, and a man with a bowler hat and a clean-shaven face stepped through. Sterombeck had looked up as Xanas had summoned Tsarik; now he carefully looked down. The Visitor handed a Denizen a small note, and gestured toward Xanas. The Denizen ran over, sweat dripping and hands trembling, and mumbled something about a day off and having the plague. Xanas nodded and unfolded the note.  

Spoiler

Xanas Khaevarin, Head, Department of Testing & Analysis, Dark Alley; Inventor of the Disclaimer; First Denizens, Member, Dark Alley; Censor of Hawaiian Pizza; etc.: 
Your presence is requested for a quick discussion. Notice of authorized Alleytravel is hereby given. All rules, regulations, and OSHA standards have been complied with. Visit our website for more information.
Cam Nosnetsroht, Head, Department of Human Resources, Dark Alley; Highprince of Pedantry; Filer of Forms; Requirer of Requisites; etc.

The note repeated itself twice more. Xanas sighed, then dismissed Tsarik as a Blade. He began to walk over to Cam. “You have a website now? That one’s new. Saves space on the notecard.”

Cam nodded curtly. “We may need you to test some of the user interface software – we’ve lost a couple of potential customers when they tried to summon a representative to them.”

“Is this what you decided to visit for? You could have sent a request through the system per our normal arrangement. I have work to do that is more efficient when I am not receiving frivolous –”

“Xanas, please do not continue that statement. It is based on erroneous judgement and I want to deal with the actual Human Resource issue before requiring you to fill out a conflict mediation form.” That was odd. Cam usually looked for opportunities to give out conflict mediation forms. Cam extended a hand, and a piece of paper materialized into it. It looked like the standard DA stationery for internal requests that HR liked to request everyone use. No one really did. Cam held it out to Xanas. “I do not understand the purpose of this letter. Please explain it.”

Xanas’s heart skipped a beat. I do everything correctly to avoid these kinds of encounters. He skimmed the letter, reading aloud under his breath. “Former experimental subject…infractions of general DA Hemalurgic standard practice… grafts without study, minor, sedation…remedied… Signed: Xanas Khaevarin?” His voice got slightly higher-pitched. Fortunately, Cam didn’t have perfect pitch. Probably. He looked up at Cam. “I never wrote this. I don’t even think we have a subject designated #A-139115.” His pulse quickened. “Where was this found?”

“In a stack of papers delivered to me. My receptionist has no memory of it coming in with my other memorandums. As you noted, neither the subject number or nominal designation have any mention in our records. I decided to come to you directly with this before beginning internal reviews to ensure that we could eliminate you as the malfeasant. May I have your signature on this affidavit signifying that you are not its author?” 

Xanas nodded his thanks, signing the paperwork. “I appreciate that. I can assure you, I would never file an erroneous report. Would you give me a couple of months to conduct some investigations amongst my department before letting this out to the other departments? I’d like to keep this private if possible.”

Cam’s gaze didn’t waver. “I will give you three weeks. If the perpetrator is not identified, HR will begin minimally-invasive inquiries, according to general policy, section 7, paragraph 12, approval date 1000 A.U.A.C.” Cam summoned a form on a clipboard, complete with a pen on the chain of little balls,  and handed it to Xanas. “This is a statement of intent, stating you will fill out the requisite forms for this investigation within the next twenty four hours. I will need a formal notice of assumption of responsibility and a writ of forestallment for HR. The forms are the other pages on the clipboard.” Cam waited as Xanas skimmed the form, then signed it. Xanas always checked for the phrase, ‘Void where prohibited except where not prohibited.’ Because of an insurance claim within the early years of the disclaimer, HR had made it a policy that the validity of the disclaimer and terms and conditions of any form in the Alleys could be revoked upon consensus of at least 2 Denizens on the basis of this phrase; in matters between Denizens, a department head’s approval was required. Xanas had neglected to point out this meant he could negate an HR claim once - you only got one use out of any loophole with HR. Fortunately, he’d never had to use it. Taking back the statement of intent and his pen and clipboard, Cam turned away, and the Alley formed again in front of him. Xanas had always found it a shame that the Alley to DAHR was one of the more pliable ones. “If you need the conflict mediation form, you can send a request through the existing method or use our new support section of the website.” The Alley closed.

Xanas folded the paper and set it in an inner pocket of his coat. He waited to be sure Cam was not returning, then looked at the Denizens in the Alleyway. Xanas breathed a soft sigh of relief. Every time he was forced to talk with Cam, he was sure it would be his last conversation. He breathed in just a little Stormlight to steady his hands, then called out that the department could take the rest of the day off. No one would be able to get any work done anyways, with how shaken up they all were. Xanas was made of sterner stuff, though. He checked to make sure he couldn’t feel any other nearby Alleys as the Denizens made their way to an established corridor. It would be fine. HR didn’t have any reason to expect Xanas was lying, so they shouldn’t have to make any other inquiries. He had three weeks to figure out what this letter was intended to do. That should be easy. No need at all to get HR involved again. Xanas shivered. Temperature controls must be dropping. 

Xanas began making his way back to his own lab. Tsarik reappeared from Xanas’s shadow. “This letter, it is not good, is that correct? This letter, it is from not Mac, the scary one?” Xanas handed him the letter, glad the spren had remembered not to say Cam’s name. “I don’t know what it is, Tsarik, but it most certainly is not good.” Xanas set the forms from Cam on his desk, then slipped his Alleycant pen out and began to twirl it deftly across his fingers. Determining the origin of this letter might require a level of finesse most of his operatives did not have. Fortunately, he knew someone who had had some training in intelligence gathering. He twisted the gemstone to a particular frequency, then began to spin the pen.

Edited February 17, 2021 by 18th Shard

[MacThorstenson he/him]

With the smell of Italian food in the air, Mac ducked out of the restaurant and made an immediate right into an alley. Voidus bless Boston and their high density of alleys. He had been grabbing a quick bite to eat on earth as he had been trying to avoid the cafe's and restaurants most common in the Darker Alleys. However despite his desire to move on, he found the free shelter and infinite expanses too appealing to give up. So instead he compromised, making sure to stick to the alleys that none had visited in millennia as he ducked back and forth across the multiverse, visiting places and eating various baked goods in general anonymity. The life was a lonely one, and often one without a purpose, but he had had enough of people and their purposes in his several thousand years of life. He would continue drifting from place to place until he found a compelling reason to stop. 

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita pinched the bridge of her nose and set the report aside - she’d re-read the same line five times now. It would do her no good to force productivity when she was this exhausted. 
Maybe I head down to R&D and pick up a wakefulness medallion. 
Then again, she didn’t go down that way if she could help it. Some of the researchers were a little too zealous about handing out “free samples.” 
She sighed, sliding the field report back into her in-tray, and opened the topmost drawer of the elaborate mahogany desk. It still felt like Mac’s desk, still felt like his office. But it wasn’t. It was hers. 
And that made all those reports Lita’s problem.

She chewed her lip and took a slender vial of metal shavings from the drawer before removing the cork and drinking it in one go. Instantly, her Tin reserves doubled, and she burnt a little extra to try and banish her fatigue. It was only mildly successful, with the added effect of making the tag on her shirt feel even more rough and itchy. Irritated, itchy, and still exhausted, Lita stood up and Alleytravelled to the nondescript hallway housing her quarters behind the blue door. She took a moment to set the kettle on, then began pacing.

Almost of it’s own accord, Lita’s hand dipped into her skirt pocket and withdrew the heavy gold coin from the Festival. It felt good in her hand, and she flipped it once, watching the fat disc carve a little arc in the air before smacking back into her palm. She continued to walk the coin back and forth over her knuckles as she sat and waited for the water to boil, watching the light gleam off it’s blank faces. 
She remembered sitting here on her first day as a new acolyte, practicing alleycant with her teaspoon, when a shadow had floated through the door. The shadow of a stranger…

Out of the corner of her eye, Lita saw gleaming golden script race across the walls and ceiling, while at the same time she felt the deep, gnawing emptiness of the Void pulling at her. 
…no, not just a stranger…

Her eyelids fluttered, and her elbow slipped off the edge of the table. The coin flew out of her hand, and Lita reached out instinctively to burn Pewter and catch the coin before it hit the—

Wait. Pewter? The coin plinged off the stone floor and rolled under a nearby settee, leaving Lita with her hand outstretched, feeling both an immense sense of disorientation as well as embarrassment. 
What had that been? She couldn’t burn Pewter - what was she thinking?

Definitely need more sleep. She had been burning the candle at both ends since Laurelai’s initiation, taking what was likely too close an interest in the young woman. She had to be better, had to hold it together. There was an entire Department to run, a city to surveil. She didn’t have the luxury of exhaustion-based insanity.

Lita stood and sighed before slipping her hand under the fringe of the settee and removing the coin, slipping it back into her pocket. As she did, she felt the slightest twinge in her right side, just between the ribs. Lita ignored it, just as she ignored the memory of the shade floating through her door. The memory of an event that had never happened. 

In her pocket, the coin grew ever so faintly warm. 

 

[Voidus]

She crouched down in an Alley, a foolish decision to make even in the best of times, even if you had allies around to watch you and the journey through the Alleys was short, stopping and closing your eyes mid-Alley was dangerous. As she was now, alone with only a single blade and the scraps of cloth that made up her clothes for protection it was beyond foolish. But the headaches had started again. Whisper wasn't sure what to think of the headaches, were they a sign? A punishment? The timing was too fortuitous to be coincidence, always right after she heard Them, the faintest illusion of whispers. A faintness to the sound that no amount of Tin could make audible, it seemed almost that she wasn't even hearing the whispers herself just noticing those who did.

Here a customer and waiter shared an odd look of almost-remembered familiarity before it passed, there a moment of hesitation in what should be familiar routine. They were subtle, so very subtle but they were there, the people who heard the whispers more clearly. She had spoken to several for as long as her excitement and curiousity could outweigh the disappointment, but none had ever been able to illuminate her as to anything deeper. Those people had barely been worth spiking, but duty came before personal opinion.

More and more whispers every day, so why do I still hear only echoes?

She sat their, face buried into her knees and hovering on the balls of her feet, teetering and seeming ready to fall at the slightest push. A gentle breeze drifted through and seemed enough to pitch the tiny figure over and into the darkness of the Alleys but was stopped by a flash of bright silver. Her blade whistled through nothing but air as her head snapped up to see the slow breeze disturbing the ancient dust of the Alleys.

Wind, that's dangerous. And rain?

She glanced skyward, finding no clouds though they did not always accompany rain here. But no drops fell upon her or the alleys around her, only a few drops onto the ground at her feet. Staring at the small patch of damp she tilted her head in confusion, but not every mystery could be chased. She wiped the moisture from her face, though it seemed only concentrated under her eyes and on her cheeks.

Time to move, headache is fading already. She noted to herself, quickly checking the position of her blade and spikes were secured before walking through the Alley. As she walked she pulled a pen and paper out from a fold of ragged clothes and began writing.

Dear Lita,
I would like to petition once again for the instating of a standing request that all members of the DA and in particular operatives of the departments of Counterintelligence and Acquisitions should immediately attempt to remove any members of the public within the region of the city and its environs who dons regalia associated with the celebrated figures of the Festival of Rebirth, and especially those donning costumes denoting the Stranger and the Lonely God. Mounting evidence suggests this invokes displeasure of these entities and could provoke eminent action on their part which threatens not only the wider city but even the Alleys themselves.
-W

That should do shouldn't it? Certainly her previous requests had been denied but this time Lita had to see, she must have noticed all of those people during the festival, the eyes watching from behind the masks and the whispers. Whisper hadn't put any of it in writing but that should just make it more difficult to dismiss the request this time, all of those comments that unheard whispers were not evidence would hold no ground this time.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

The steam on her tea was still rising as Lita wove a pattern through the Alleys, stepping surely and avoiding looking too closely at the boiling grey and black shadows of the Void above her. Once, Alleytravel was terrifying. Now, she was too busy to be terrified. The most she could muster was a sort of businesslike vigilance.

She appeared in the hallway outside her office, loathe to face her in-tray but aware that it would only get worse the longer she avoided it. A sip of tea fortified her resolve, and she entered the room to begin.

A few hours had passed when someone placed a note gently in the center of her desk. Lita looked up, distracted, before leaping halfway out of her chair and nearly upsetting the inkwell.

”Gah!”

”Ma’am,” the creature said, genteel voice utterly at odds with its pitch-black eyes. “Letter for you, ma’am.” 

It was a Stranger, a hemalurgic construct that could store enough Connection so as to be nearly unnoticeable until it was literally right in front of you. Lita found that she both hated and admired them. She respected the art of stealth, but rust and Ruin, the things could bloody well make a bit more noise when delivering mail.

”Thank you,” she said, nodding at the thing, then promptly forgetting it as she opened the note to read. She felt the sigh building as she scanned the page, finally letting it out when she dropped the note back onto her desk. Whisper.

The girl had always been odd, even by DA standards, but lately her over-developed zeal regarding the mythological Alley Founders was getting in the way of her work. If she didn’t get ahold of herself soon, Lita might be forced to reassign her to an internal department.

Or just drop her into one of the endless abyss Alleys, Lita thought, before chiding herself. That wasn’t how Mac taught her to do things. 
“You must do your best to keep your humanity, Lita, before you end up paying too steep a price and losing something you can never regain.” 
Lita sighed again and took out a silver pen, spinning it between her fingers and sending a message to Laurelai.

”Status report requested. What have you discovered so far?”

That done, she removed another pen, stared at it for a moment, and sent a message to Whisper.

”Received your latest note. Please report to my office immediately to discuss.” 
 

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Whisper was twofold surprised, an event rare enough to elicit a quiet but genuine gasp. Firstly by the sudden sensation of paper in her hand as a Stranger handed her a note, used to the Alleys and their surprises as she was a humanoid entity being suddenly inches away from you when you noticed them was a perpetually startling event.

She gave the Stranger a brief nod of thanks and received her second surprise upon reading the sender.

Lita replied? She wondered. A meeting is promising, though the lack of directly addressing the issue is a disappointment. Probably shouldn't have pretended to be concerned that the masks would bring Them back.

Lita was sharp enough that Whisper didn't often obfuscate or hide her personality. Partially out of respect but also because she doubted she could fully convince the department head of any of her usual facades. Which unfortunately meant that Lita was likely all to aware that Whisper would love nothing more than the return of the Stranger and the Lonely God, even if that return did herald the destruction of the world.

Perhaps I should tell her about the whispers after all? She wondered briefly before giving an imperceptible shake of the head. No, she'd dismiss it like everyone always does. Unless she hears them herself, but even with Lightweaving I couldn't make her hear them, not properly.

Lightweaving was a versatile skill, and Whisper was uniquely more adept at auditory illusions than visible ones but even so how could she emulate a sound that was not a sound? A whisper of absence?

In short time she managed to find her way to the outside of Lita's office, knocking gently on the door and waiting for the reply before she entered. Habitually she scanned each corner of the room, though of course if Lita had intended any harm on her she would doubtless succeed no matter Whispers preparations. The resources of the DA were at her disposal after all.

"Good morning." Whisper croaked, the strain of even this faint speech already beginning to scratch at her throat. Clearing her throat softly and giving a small nod to accompany her verbal greeting she perched on one of the available chairs in the office, before directing her full attention to Lita and arching an eyebrow.

Now why am I here?
@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

The girl entered Lita’s office with all the wariness of a feral cat, and nearly as much lithe grace. She seemed utterly at odds with the grand scale of the place, and Lita was suddenly reminded of her childhood lessons about the Ascendant Warrior. Whisper had something of Vin about her - an urchin in a nobleman’s office.

No, decided Lita, eyeing Whisper as she sat lightly on a chair. This girl would give Vin nightmares. 
 

“Good morning,” Whisper rasped out, before using her more customary method of auditory Lightweaving. Rusts, that was unnerving. ‘Now why am I here?’

Lita settled back in her chair and tapped one red fingernail against the mahogany desktop. She considered letting the silence stretch out, but there seemed little point in a power-trip here. Whisper was no fool, and she knew where the power was. Hammering it home would just make Lita look insecure. So she chose the direct route.

”You have sent me four notes in the last three weeks.” Lita began to set them out on the desk, one after another. “All of them are regarding the Founders, most specifically the Lonely God and the Stranger.” She placed the most recent note at the far right of the line, tapping it before looking up at Whisper with one eyebrow raised.

”I don’t suppose it has crossed your mind that sending out my agents to ‘remove’ the people who disguise themselves as mythological figures would be both a spectacular waste of resources as well as the most moronic and obvious show of our hand since the shadow years.”

Lita opened her desk drawer and removed a coppermind ring, sliding it over one finger and accessing Whisper’s personal file. She blinked a few times as her brain processed the information deluge, then continued.

”I also know you’re smart enough not to expect such a weak lie to actually get past me in regards to your supposed worries about said figures returning. It is well documented that you have a devotion to the Founders.” Lita waved a hand. 

“Now that that is out of the way, I would like to know the true meaning of these letters. In your past communiqués, I have noticed you mention ‘whispers’ and other such ineffable anomalies in the city. I’ll admit that until recently I dismissed these as fancy. But recent events have given me a new perspective. I am giving you the opportunity of my complete and undivided attention on this matter.”

Lita fixed the girl with a stare and gave a small, cold smile. “If you wish to keep your secrets, that is your right. But I do intend on having them one way or another.”

@Voidus

[18th Shard he/him]

Xanas sat at his desk, papers on the oaken top meticulously organized into piles of related information: one stack contained intelligence reports from the city, another contained test results from his department, and another contained personnel incident reports. This last pile had been growing faster than Xanas would have liked - the volatility of the Alleys was increasing, and stable perpendicularities were becoming more and more unreliable. A small spanreed sat blinking on the edge of his desk, next to the chair Tsarik sat in. Xanax sighed and nodded at Tsarik, who shut off the spanreed with a careful twist. The inkspren carefully skimmed the report before placing it on the incident report pile. 

“Too many incidents are, Xanas,” the spren remarked. “This cannot be coincidence. An unknown variable is.”

Xanax nodded wearily. “The reports are coming in more frequently. I am not yet sure if this is a polynomial or an exponential increase, but either way, safety measures are in order. Tell the sub-heads to suspend any tests which require level four approval unless they are conducted in the central facility, and to create an updated map of safe Alleyways.” Tsarik’s long black fingers began to twirl a simple silver pen with a red spinel embedded in the end. Xanas followed the patterns for a moment, trying to find a pattern to the odd happenings in the Alleys. To make matters worse, an entire fortnight had passed without making any progress on finding the origin of the falsified HR report. His blackouts were coming far more often as well, and try as he might, he hadn’t found a single strand of his Spiritweb which had been altered. Too many unusual events, all occurring at the same time. When the vinebuds hide, the highstorm approaches, as Dnah used to say. Xanas drummed his fingers along the table unconsciously for a second before noticing the motion and folding his hands together. It was a nervous habit of his, one he’d thought he’d broken a century ago. A tightening sensation rippled through his forehead, and he reflexively breathed in a measure of Stormlight. When the sensation worsened, his eyes unfocusing, he knew he was about to blackout. He picked up a copper and nicrosil coin from his desk, holding it tightly in his hand on the desktop. “Tsarik.” His spren looked up, noting the position Xanas was in. He stood, walked over and held Xanas’ hand closed with his own. 

“I will hold it until you regain consciousness,” Tsarik said. “Start storing.” Xanas leaned back in his chair, his hand remaining on the desk. Xanas started storing memory in the coin as darkness gathered around the edges of his vision. The world faded away, and Xanas caught a glimpse of a white room for an instant before everything went black.

He awoke in his chair, arm sore from its extension. He shook his head, sitting up. “How long was I out?” 

Tsarik let go of his hand, standing upright. “Three-quarters of an hour.” Tsarik’s long sword floated behind him, and Tsarik grabbed it with his left hand and sheathed it quickly. Xanas opened his hand and stopped storing in the coppermind. The coin had left a faint red imprint on his palm. He rubbed his hand, pushing feeling back into the numb fingers.

“Let’s see if our little experiment worked, shall we?” Xanas held the coppermind out and set it gently into a fabrial on the wall. The fabrial absorbed Stormlight from a few nearby broams before projecting a small illusion of the room onto his desk. Xanas rolled a dial on the fabrial back, and the projection turned black. As he continued to twist the dial, the blackness stayed constant, until just a moment before returning to his office, a flash of white appeared. Xanas rolled a smaller dial until he caught the memory of the white flash, then swapped a pewter switch. The projection expanded until the Lightweaving filled the whole room. Xanas looked around at the white walls, the small, locked window, and the medical equipment. “The city hospital, it seems. Odd that this is what I should see in a blackout. He walked around the bed and curtain, looking for clues as to the room’s significance.

“Xanas, look here.” Tsarik motioned him over to the edges of the Lightweaving. Xanas hadn’t been able to turn and look behind him, so the edges of the illusion became blurry as they stretched further to his side, but Tsarik had found a small corner of a sticker on the underside of the table. Xanas knelt to look at it. C180. A room number. 

Xanas smiled. “Good eye.” He stood up, switching off the Lightweaving fabrial. “Send a message to Counterintelligence. See if they can have a contact at the hospital forward this room’s recent history to me - say, six months back to the present.” Tsarik grabbed the silver pen and began sending an Alleycant message. Xanas smiled. Finally, something he could study.

Edited March 9, 2022 by 18th Shard

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Ronald awoke to his alarm just as the sun was cresting the horizon. He ate breakfast, got ready and took off for his job, hailing a taxi as he walked out of the door of his apartment building. He sat down at his desk, he set aside some light reading material he had left out the night before and started going over some invoices that had a few irregularities. Just normal schedule for a typical day.

Of course while his schedule was normal and likely shared between tens of thousands of people across the multiverse, he liked to think that where his schedule takes place was more unique then most. You see, while a number of people woke up each day to their alarms, few arose to be greeted with glorious views from a penthouse overlooking the most beautiful tax hav- I mean city, city in the world. The Alleycity, crown jewel of the Alleyverse. Or a rock you get stuck in your shoe while hiking. It depended on who you asked, and when you asked it.

But yes, a penthouse in the tallest building in the city. Some said that accounting wasn't a very sexy job, and that was true, but Ronald was going to change that. Sort of. He didn't want people seeing accounting as a glamorous place to make money, because otherwise there would be a flood of applicants and less money to go around. No, he wanted to keep accounting boring, and keep his cards close to his chest. By branching out from accounting in several different areas, he had managed to amass quite the fortune, and if he had those resources, then why shouldn't he spend them? After all what was the point of fraud if you weren't going to make anything from it, and use it to display exactly how good you have it to everyone else around.

So yes, he woke up in his penthouse to the soft tunes of Sh-boom on a built in sound system. He grabbed a few pieces of fresh fruit and worked out in an in house gym, then proceeded to his balcony where he relaxed in a hot tub to loosen up a bit as the sun rose. He read a couple emails from personal clients he worked for, as well as a few clients that thought he worked for them. After all, if a good scam was to work, he had to lead them along, thinking that he was on their side, until he suddenly disappeared along with millions of dollars.

After wrapping up in the hot tub he donned an exquisite three piece suit with a pocket square made from nalthisian silk, and dyed with the same colors. He proceeded down the elevator with his briefcase and bowler hat, and hopped in a car that was waiting for him. He checked the news on his way to work, mostly looking at the financhials but also scanning over he rest. Seemed that there were more issues with mass hallucination and the such. Not something he needed to worry about to be frank, so long as the money kept flowing he would be just fine. 

His ride dropped him off at the mouth of a dingy alley, some miles away from his home. It wasn't strictly necessary, he could have entered from any alley you see, but he liked the tour of the city. It prepped him for what was to come next. Standing in the back of the alleyway, he willed it to conform to his design, and suddenly the noises of the city dropped off, the early morning sky turned to a black so deep that any who stared into it for too long went crazy. 

You see, he didn't work for any old company. No, his loyalties lie with the Dark Alley's, specifically their accounting division, as well as a few other side projects. His job was to clean the books. Make sure that everything at the very least appeared to be legal and balanced. He also brought it some money through fieldwork of course, but he had been enjoying his past couple of months in the office. Embezzlement and corporate espionage were fun of course, but generally when he was in the field he could be tracked and followed by one group in particular, and those guys were terrifying. With insane amounts of funding, decently intelligent staff, and worst of all do gooders, the IRS terrified him more than any other organization. Period. Even more so then HR. At least with them you could just go to the seminars and clean up your spills and everything would be fine. 

He shook his head and put his smile back on his face. They couldn't bother him here though. And that was what mattered. He walked into his office, which contained decent views of the alleys, but despite their intricate patterns and eldritch abominations they weren't quite as nice as the alleycity. After all, here everyone could have as nice of an apartment as he did and where would be the fun in that?

Looking at his desk he sat down and started glancing through the papers that had landed there to the screams of terror and glee that echoed from the alleys below. Starting his very ordinary schedule, in a very unordinary place, had never felt better.

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Quote

Sorry for the double post. I didn't want to clog up the Hospital thread with what is essentially a prologue to him arriving there.

After working his way through the stack of invoices from the night before, Ronald made his way into the hall to stretch his legs and get a glass of water. The dull monotony of shuffling papers around was a necessary evil and while it was preferable to constant fieldwork, he still needed to get up and take breaks occasionally. As he walked down the hall and rounded the corner his path was blocked by a Stranger holding an envelope.

Bloody heck, He thought to himself, I have a mailbox for voids sake. He glowered and snatched the envelope. He knew he wasn't the only person who found their capability to suddenly appear when delivering mail to be annoying, but he was a practical man who recognized the value of invisible mail delivery folk for more... shall we say clandestine... messages. He shoved the envelope into his pocket, got his water, and returned to his luxurious corner office. After quickly locking the door, he closed his blinds and went to his bookshelf in the corner of the room. He pulled a black box of the shelf, and held the letter near it. The sand inside didn't start glowing, and the envelope seemed to only contain a sheet of paper. The risk appeared to be minimal.  

He sat down at his desk and pulled out a bronze letter opener, inspecting the seal on the back of the letter. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't mean it couldn't be useful. Carefully, he removed it and placed it in a desk drawer for further inspection and possibly reverse engineering later. He then turned his attention to the now open letter laying on his desk which read:

Ronald,

Your services are required in the Einladung Hospital. The enclosed list of names belongs to a number of test subjects admitted to the Cognitive ward after experiencing memory loss and recurring dreams, many of which have been discharged and discretely removed by my department. Their records, however,  present a pattern that could pose a risk for the secrecy and security of these Dark Alley's. As such they need to be removed and destroyed. The method's are left up to you. Please ensure that no one would be able to use these records to find out about our operations. Your typical discretion is expected.

-Dept. Head Allie, DASU.

Ronald frowned, he didn't recognize the name nor the acronym. That said, the department heads were well known for their eccentricity and could often disappear for hundreds if not thousands of years. It wouldn't be a surprise if the only person who could have verified Allie's identity was Mac. Unfortunately that Glorious slontze was MIA. He could try to contact Cam, or someone else from HR, but Ronald wasn't sure if he wanted them involved. He tapped his pen on his desk, thinking.

On one hand, there was a risk of disobeying a direct request from a department head. The consequences for that tended to be severe and eternal. On the other hand, there was only a little bit of field work, and he likely would be in the clear. The list of names he had been given was several dozen long, but he could probably finish it before dusk, and still have time to watch the sun set from the balcony. 

He sighed, stood up to grab a manila folder, and started to copy down the letter. It never hurt to be diligent, especially with mysterious demigods such as these.

Turning his mind to the job, he started to wonder how exactly he would be able to pull this off. Gaining access to the records room would likely entail some deceit, but nothing he hadn't dealt with before.

Actually dealing with the records, however, would likely pose issues. The records of the patients who had been discharged could be removed and smuggled out in his briefcase, but if he stole the records of the current patients they would make new ones. Those records would need to be edited, and the original copies would come out with him. Not to be destroyed, mind you. Incriminating evidence would stay with him in his vault. It always did, to ensure his safety if things ever got out of control.

He nodded, his plan complete. His ID, forgery kit, and list of names in his briefcase, he took off for the hospital.

Edited March 10, 2022 by MacThorstenson

[Voidus]

On 09/03/2022 at 5:33 PM, ZincAboutIt said:

Lita fixed the girl with a stare and gave a small, cold smile. “If you wish to keep your secrets, that is your right. But I do intend on having them one way or another.”

Whisper felt a momentary chill along their spine, a threat that few could level against her and truly mean, even fewer who could actually carry through on that threat. But Lita was one of those few. She gave a small, somewhat more respectful nod of her head this time.

Of course. I have attempted to explain this to others but it is... difficult. She voiced. A whisper is not quite correct, it's not a sound. More like a thought.

She watched Lita's face with seeming impassivity though she was certain that her accelerating pulse would be audible. No small few had expressed some level of interest in the whispers, perhaps fewer than if someone else had reported it given her history of what others called madness. But this was no researcher from R&D, this was a department head, who had summoned her for this express purpose. Finally someone was actually listening. Certainly it was grating that Lita had dismissed her request to remove those who wore those insufferable masks, but that was an insult she could endure for this. Far better to hold onto that frustration than let it out and have Lita dismiss everything else along with it.

Thoughts. She corrected. Fragments of a plan that spans the world over and everyone in it caught in its strands, dancing to the tune. The whispers are those strings which briefly hum with discordant melody before being silenced and brought back into harmony with the rest.

As she spoke she looked at Lita cautiously, wondering what had prompted this. As she did so Whisper leaned slowly forward, balancing herself with her hands until she was almost leaning over the desk between them. Her head cocked to one side as she looked not just at Lita, at her actions, but the air around her, the papers on the desk. A faint sense of something.

You hear it? She said in surprise, breaking her previous train of comment. Or are a part of it? Different. Singing louder but silenced more harshly?

She shook her head. Language was so restricting, a thousand different ways to communicate that you intended to greet someone and no words for what she was experiencing. Numbers were easier, they didn't lie, and while they could mislead you for a time they always brought you to the correct answer in the end. Numbers couldn't be misunderstood.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

3 hours ago, Voidus said:

Thoughts. She corrected. Fragments of a plan that spans the world over and everyone in it caught in its strands, dancing to the tune. The whispers are those strings which briefly hum with discordant melody before being silenced and brought back into harmony with the rest.

Lita turned up the burn on her Tin as Whisper began speaking, taking in all her small, unconscious movements. When she mentioned these ‘dischordant strands,’ her pulse quickened, pupils dilating as she elaborated.

Not a lie, then, Lita concluded. Whether or not she was simply mad, the girl thought that she was telling the truth. Indeed, this was important to her, exciting. Well, she had been trying to get Lita’s attention for the better part of the month. 
Lita would never have admitted it aloud, but Whisper’s theory was eerily close to the reports that had been trickling into the DoCI from out in the field. There really was something strange going on in the city. And stranger still, the Dark Alley was not it’s origin.

You hear it? Whisper’s phantom voice changed, as though she had just noticed something. Or are a part of it? Different. Singing louder but silenced more harshly?
 

Lita felt all the hair rise on the back of her neck, and it took all her training to remain still. She could hear her own heartbeat race - something she had learned to tune out over a decade ago. But now it thundered in her ears like a storm.

A storm… 

Rain pelted her face, whipped by a wind so cold it seemed to lance into her very bones. She could taste lightning in the air, ozone fizzing on her tongue as it gathered high above her in the boiling clouds. Fire chewed its way through the city, undeterred even by this, the most ferocious of storms. The Alleystorm. Behind her, a voice like obsidian cut through the night —

Lita blinked, feeling the tatters of something that felt like a memory fade into nothing. She looked down, noticing that her hand was halfway into the pocket of her skirt. 
 

Ruin, what was the matter with her? It was unconscionable that a single girl - albeit a damned unnerving one - could cause Lita to lose her composure.

”What you have noticed,” Lita said, pleased that her voice sounded more level than she felt, “has been corroborated by several others in the field. There has been a dramatic and unprecedented increase in mental phenomena throughout the City, all having to do with some form of retrograde amnesia.”

”What’s more,” Lita removed her hand from her pocket, placing it face down on the top of the desk, “these phenomena do not seem to be originating from any department within the DA. At least, not any department that we know of. It is in our best interests to find out the source of these phenomena before they reach a point where people will begin to remember those old stories of demons in alleyways and seek us out en masse. It would be easy enough to hide or dissuade them, but that would rather tip our hand. Which would be inconvenient.”

Lita steepled her fingers and looked at Whisper, taking in her eager form, her watchful eyes. “I would like you to continue to observe these ‘fragments,’ and as you observe them, bring them to me. Do not speak to anyone else about this - not even to those within the Dark Alley. Indeed, I intend for you to watch both within and without the Alleys. Do you understand?” 
 

 

[Voidus]

Whisper could feel the anxiety building, not something as unreadable as a facial expression or tone of voice. But the feeling in the room changed immediately, a dozen imperceptible signs that added up to a single sensation.

But in the next moment she discarded all attempts to dissect that sensation. There was another, far more important and far subtler. Subtler and yet perhaps the loudest she had ever heard it. The whispers had returned, one of the few times that she had ever heard them in the Alleys. She couldn't make out the words still, couldn't quite see the plan but there was something, something from her gods was at work here. For a moment Whisper thought she could almost see a flicker of something in Lita's emerald eyes but it was gone in an instant, little more than a flash of light.

She memorized it nonetheless, tried as best she could to capture everything about this feeling. The straining sensation of gods telling their plans to the world. She had no proof it was Them, but she had never needed any. Who else could it be? Who else could make the entire universe dance to their tune?

She locked eyes with Lita, not mentioning the flash though undoubtedly it was visible in her fervent attention.

”What you have noticed,” Lita continued without addressing the issue “has been corroborated by several others in the field. There has been a dramatic and unprecedented increase in mental phenomena throughout the City, all having to do with some form of retrograde amnesia.”

A scowl at that. Retrograde amnesia? Such mundane terminology to describe such widespread and near-perfect execution of silence. Perhaps technically accurate in a medical sense but it conveyed none of what it actually was.

Lita continued, unaltered by Whispers disagreement. As she mentioned people coming to the Alleys in search of mythological demons, Whisper briefly contemplated whether that was in fact desirable. The entire city joining the Alleys to worship the ancient ones, surely that would bring them back? A few moments late her mind reminded her that Lita's tone generally was one used when people were conveying something undesirable. Baffling though it was to her there were some who would seek to destroy the ancient ones in fear. The fear was understandable but how could it lead someone to attempt to destroy the source rather than seek it out? In this city only the denizens of the Alleys were something even resembling sane.

“I would like you to continue to observe these ‘fragments,’ and as you observe them, bring them to me. Do not speak to anyone else about this - not even to those within the Dark Alley. Indeed, I intend for you to watch both within and without the Alleys. Do you understand?” 

If Whisper leaned in any further she would fall from the chair so she simply nodded in rapid acceptance, mouth curling a little at the idea that she could 'speak' to anyone about this. But this was what she had been waiting for, all those sleepless nights scavenging extra time to track the whispers, the endless hours spent plotting them on maps, looking for lines of convergence, patterns of frequency, some limit to the area of influence. But balancing that with her regular duties was impossible, she knew well enough that if that path of self destruction continued much longer her mind would falter from lack of food or sleep.

Understood. She replied firmly and simply.

She slipped from the chair on silent feet, an oddly grounding experience that dismissed the last of the whispers in the room. Regretful of the loss she looked into Lita's eyes one more time, looking for some echo of that flash, something that could connect her with that web again. But she saw only piercing green eyes that seemed ready to devour every secret that they beheld. Lita was perhaps close, but her hunger was not that of the old ones.

I will send along what I already have. Whisper voiced in a monotone, concealing her disappointment.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita remained still and cool as Whisper agreed to her assignment and turned to leave. She flared Tin for a moment after the door had closed, making sure the girl really had gone her way. Then, and only then, did Lita allow herself to lean back in her chair with a quiet gasp. 
Her fingers sought the pocket of her skirt, traitorous as a moss addict, and she drew out the coin. The metal felt good - more than good. It felt right. Like it was meant to be there, dancing over the tops of her fingers like a cold star. She stared at it for what felt like hours, then flipped it, catching it in her palm and slapping it onto the back of her other hand.

The profile of a skull grinned up at her, it’s right eye impaled with a spike. Lita started, hand jerking back reflexively, and the coin dropped onto the table, head-down. 
She stared at it for a long moment, unease and fascination warring within her, a combination that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages. The lure of a secret. That hunger that had led her to the Alleys in the first place.

How long had it been since she’d really searched for a secret on her own? Months? A year? Running the Department was everything she had ever wanted. And yet…

What are you hungry for, Lita?

The question floated through her mind on a cold breeze, and she found that she could not recall who had asked it of her. There was only an impression. The thrill of power, and a prickle of fear.

Suddenly, her silver pen twitched on the desk, and Lita immediately picked it up, coin momentarily forgotten. She quickly received Laurelai’s message, wrinkling her nose at the unfortunate interruptions the young woman was facing, and smirking at her inclusion of the well-dressed man.

A girl after my own heart, she thought, sending back a quick response.

”Proceed with care. It will gain us nothing to lose your good standing at the hospital. You can return any time. Send details of others in the room with you. If anyone else is tracking the same lead, they may attempt to follow you. See that they don’t succeed. Escape into an Alley if needed. Any tail you have will be swiftly intercepted - much to the delight of Acquisitions.”

Lita turned back to the coin and hesitated, fingers poised just above the slick gold surface. Did she dare turn it over? What would she find?

She bit her lip, then quickly turned it over; it dropped into its other side with a heavy ‘clack.’ The plain, smooth gold was just the same as the other side. No grinning skull. Nothing remarkable at all.

Lita put the Coin back into her pocket and went back to work, but not before tapping a little heat from her Brassmind. There was a chill in the air that she had not noticed before. 

@Voidus

[MacThorstenson he/him]

@Voidus I think you need to see this. 

Also @ZincAboutIt, this is very important. 

Mac frowned at the blank television screen in his decrepit apartment. It was similar to the frown one makes when they finish a television series or a movie, and know that they can never again watch it for the first time. The difference was that this time, he was frowning because he had learned something truly so terrible, so abominable, that it made everything that he had ever learned before in his life down right PG, and he could never un-learn it. 

"I now know your secret Lord Voidus," He muttered under his breath, "I've seen what you do to the Darkan's, as you tried to conquer Gorm. I've seen the torture you've inflicted on Gredd, Xathor, Kratus, and Cryptus. You monster."

Like many of humanities ancient enemies, Voidus had finally found his way into children's tales. This 2018 Italian toy series was no different then tales that cautioned of witches, vampires, and the ancestral sky giants living atop mutation bean plants. Gormiti told of Lord Voidus's story and crimes like no other source, for only a tv show could be so innocuous as to slip under his radar. It told of his attempts to conquer the Land of Gorm, and his ruling of the Darkan's. It told of those whom he stepped on to emerge as a ruler, and it showed how far he was willing to go to obtain complete control over his people. What and absolute monster of a man.

Worst of all?

He was now an Italian children's toy.

[Voidus]

Gamma Seven trotted down the Alley, three and four tailed along with him for a time before peeling off into other Alleys and exiting out into the city proper. Wordlessly he watched each of them leave, committing their departing figures to memory in the event that any of these brave soldiers did not return from their mission. They were strong, well trained, but the city was unpredictable now, and the Alleys even more so.

He could smell it everywhere, the heavy stench of some power forcibly asserting itself over the city, over the world. The people of the city, even the DA had not seemed to notice, or those who did were either silenced or barely realised what they were sensing. But his squad knew, all of them had noticed the anomalies, the shadows that took the people who remembered, the gaps in memory and the holes in reality.

But none would listen to their warning, everywhere they had travelled they had been dismissed, nobody had taken them seriously, nobody had understood. And now time was running out, soon enough the gaps would overtake the world and everything would come apart at the seams. His team had volunteered for one final attempt to find someone to listen to them, anyone who could see the signs and understand them. Just one person who was not a gormless idiot.

He stepped into the sunlight of the city streets, blinking until his eyes adjusted and taking stock of those around him. His position in an alley afforded him a key position from which to gauge the street without being seen. No moving shadows, that was very good news. Plenty of people, that was good as well, he could maximize the exposure now, force everyone to hear even if he had to shout into their ears.

A younger group had gathered on the steps of a nearby building, sitting and talking amongst themselves. Perhaps he should start with them? The younger ones could sometimes make intuitive leaps that adults found difficult, and perhaps one of these could even understand.

Greetings. He said as he solemnly walked towards them. I bring grave tidings, you must help me to spread this message as far as we can. If we do not stop it soon then the chaos will overtake the world, you and all those you know are in great danger!

"A puppy!" One of the children yelled, abandoning their discussion and rushing towards Gamma Seven.

The Seekrador let out a whine of frustration and rolled his eyes. He was a proud hunter, seer of truth and bringer of warnings. Why did these idiot humans continue to confuse him with dumb mutts?

You must listen! He insisted, head tilting to one side to convey his frustration as he opened his eyes wide to capture attention. You cannot ignore the signs!

"Aww look at how cute he is!" The child said, wrapping two arms around his body in a manner that he had most certainly not agreed to.

The other children began to gather around as well, spouting similar inanities. None of them had seemed to understand his communication, they still only communicated with those primitive vocalisations. Even when Gamma Seven looked towards some nearby adults and requested their help they had simply smiled in sweet, dumb ignorance.

The life of a soldier is a difficult one. Gamma Seven mused.

[+ZincAboutIt she/her]

Lita knelt and set another log in the fireplace, watching the flames lick hungrily at the dry wood. She could have turned on the central heating, but there was something comforting about a real fire in the hearth. Perhaps it reminded her of home.

She stood, brushing the ash from her hands. Nostalgia, Lita? How long had it been since Scadrial was “home”? It felt like ages, though it had only been three years. 
Something moved on her desk, and she turned from her musing. The little silver pen was twitching. Good. Hopefully Laurelai had something to report besides a well-dressed administrator.

Lita crossed to the desk and picked up the pen, turning the end and making quick work of the translation. ‘A little info’ was not what she had hoped for, but then, Laurelai was not a trained spy. It was likely a small miracle that she managed to get any at all what with two other suspicious individuals also looking in the same place. Lita raised an eyebrow at Laurelai’s rather blithe suggestion of “ducking in and out of Alleys.” That was something even Lita avoided unless she was in a great hurry.  Jumping in and out of multiple Alleys was asking for trouble. It was far too easy to miscalculate, step wrongly, or be wearing the incorrect color - any of which could lead to a messy end. 
“Ah well,” Lita said aloud, pocketing the pen and stepping to her door. “Wouldn’t want to lose a new agent so soon. I’d never hear the end of it from Acquisitions.”

She stepped forward, the stiletto of her heel hitting the smooth tile of the Alley outside her office, then she bent reality, her Tin burning high, seeking out the presence of a novice. It wasn’t hard to find her.
Immersed in the swirling matrix of the Alleys, Laurelai appeared as a dove amongst vultures. Lita reached out and snagged her wrist, pulling her out of the path of something vast and hungry, and brought them both to a safer, nondescript Alley close to the outer edges.

Lita crossed her arms, both eyebrows lifting when she noticed that Laurelai had been sketching while wandering.

”Well if I knew you had a death wish, I’d have made you an R&D intern and saved myself the trouble.”

@Voidus