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

[+ZincAboutIt]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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]

@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]

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
 

[Voidus]

Brow isn't quite right. Laurelai thought.

She erased the line and tried to position it again, the well-dressed man she had managed to outline quickly but the woman was taking a little longer. Had the brow arched? Not too strongly but perhaps it was a little raised as well. The ground lurched underneath her as the Alleys shifted again, a little unexpected this time and she stumbled a little mid-stride. But if she could just finish these last few lines...

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

Laurelai blinked, staring blankly at the page for just an instant longer as her hand smoothly sketched the final line, then looked up to meet a pair of angry green eyes. Lita, arms crossed and standing in the middle of the Alley.

What? Laurelai reacted in a sudden moment of panic, wondering what she could have done. Then she paused, eyes drifting down to the sketchbook then up to the Alley floor and walls, and finally the briefest of glances upwards to the mass of writhing darkness. Oh.

"Whoops?" She said, aiming for an apologetic tone. "Forgot where I was for a minute."

Fantastic first impression Laurelai, wandering through an ancient and dangerous series of interdimensional alleyways while sketching. Immediately after you had to leave the hospital due to outside interference.

Why did that chiding voice so often manage to sound like her mother?

"Wanted to sketch the two people I saw earlier while the memory was still fresh." She apologized, tearing the two pages from her book.

She was stuffing the pen back into a pocket when her hand bumped another folded sheet, with a momentary frown she pulled that out too, unfolding it and seeing one of Vivica's drawings. Had she given her one of those? She remembered they'd spoken briefly while Laurelai hid in her room but this drawing...

She lifted a hand to her temple as another sharp pain pierced her temple.

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

Forgot where she was?

Well, Laurelai did have a sort of natural grace about her Alleytravel, something that was very rare for a beginner. Lita forced herself to remain silent as Laurelai tore out her sketches. They actually weren't half bad, now that she looked at them. Might even be able to get some kind of lead off of them if she asked the right people --

Laurelai grimaced as if in pain, putting her hand up towards her temple while her other hand clutched another piece of paper.

"What is it?" Lita asked, immediately trying to get a look at the paper and fighting down a very unreasonable level of panic. "Did you stare too long into the Void? Did something touch you? God Beyond is that one of he Eldritch Department's ink blot tests? I told them not to prank my agents, how many times do I have to hammer it home that not every denizen works better after a complete mental breakdown?"

Lita drew in a deep breath - why was she so worried? Sure, Laurelai was promising, and she was certainly better company than about eighty percent of the Department, but it wasn't as though they were friends.

A phantom peal of laughter. Crystal in her hands, the smell of smoke in the air, the taste of port on her tongue.

Lita leaned against the wall of the Alley for a moment, struck by sudden vertigo. Was the Alley doing this to them? She was sure she'd marked it as safe, but they did have a way of changing.

"Rust this," she muttered, taking Laurelai by the upper arm in a firm grip and Alleytravelling back to her office. She released the young woman and walked behind her desk, removing a slender decanter from the bar against the wall. Lita poured herself a glass of amber whiskey - it was too early for port, and she was too irritated - and mixed in a pinch of Tin powder. She looked at Laurelai for a moment, then slid her a glass across the desktop.

"Here, drink that. Then give me your report."

@Voidus

 

[Voidus]

Struggling to make out Lita's words through the sudden onset of pain, accompanied by what almost felt like an image of some kind, Laurelai was about to lean against one of the walls to steady herself when the ground lurched underfoot again. One of her knees crumpled and she barely managed to keep from tumbling to the floor at the sudden motion. From the looks of it Lita had brought them back to her office.

"Here, drink that. Then give me your report."

Laurelai gratefully took the cup from Lita, swirling the amber liquid before taking a steadying sip. The momentary burn as the whiskey hit her throat brought the room into a sharper focus, and after an initial flare up the pain in her temple began to die down again.

"What the rust was that?" She wondered allowed before giving herself a gentle shake. "Sorry, never mind about that."

She took a seat, smoothing her dress and readjusting herself into a straight-backed posture as she met Lita's eyes, saw a flicker of the same confused panic that she herself felt though it was quickly masked beneath a carefully controlled expression. But it wasn't Laurelai's job to try to comfort Lita, it was her job to report the information that she'd managed to find.

"As expected no issues getting in, I had to see a patient quickly to avoid any suspicions but she may actually be related in some way. Difficult to say but she had similar symptoms to the other files, I thought it might be helpful to briefly interview someone directly in addition to what was in the files and then-" Laurelai's speech faltered for a moment. What had she done when she left Vivica's room. She could remember talking to her, remember being in the records room, but not the time between. "Um, then I entered into records and started pulling them. I had a few minutes to myself, long enough to confirm that this pattern is certainly growing worse. Three times the number of cases this month compared to last, most of them minor but a number of more severe cases."

She continued her report, trying not to break the flow of information but still she internally puzzled over that gap in memory. It wasn't like what she'd experienced other flashes of, not old memories that appeared in flashes. Anterograde not retrograde? But even though it was different to the others it reminded her of something. Not that unsettling familiarity that she couldn't explain, but just a vague mental connection. It felt almost like the blank space that could appear in her memories when she forged herself, when the memories of the stamp didn't match her reality and her brain tried to reassert itself as best it could and so simply blanked out the incongruous memory.

But that's ridiculous, I'm not carrying any of my soulstamps with me and I would have noticed the seal. She thought, dismissing the errant idea.

"These two arrived later, the woman first who's either a thief or a Lightweaver if I had to guess, coat was either copied or stolen from another doctor. Not the best infiltrator I've ever seen, couldn't improvise a lie to save her life. She was looking for similar information and pulled a lot of the same files that I had. The other was less suspicious, might have been nothing and I checked and made sure he wasn't wearing any illusions. I picked up a few of the names he was pulling to be safe though, and I know his tailor so we can probably find a name there. But may have just been someone from legal."

[+ZincAboutIt]

Lita listened to Laurelai’s report, slowly sipping her whiskey and feeling the tension bleed away. The momentary panic, the disorientation, seemed to be a distant memory now. The situation at hand reasserted itself, and Lita turned her attention once again to the two portraits.

She tapped the face of the woman with the back of her pen, then cocked her head. “Interesting. Lightweavers usually have a Zinc tongue when it comes to deception. Could be she had an Illumination spike, but then, she’d almost certainly be working for us. Maybe a Truthwatcher?” Lita shrugged. “I’ll look into our records.”

She had little time for Radiants. Most were terribly stuffy and always hung up on oaths and promises. Lita moved on to the second portrait, the one of the well-dressed man. She tapped her tongue against the back of her teeth and felt herself smirk.

”Ruin but you weren’t wrong about this fellow, were you? If there were more men like this in the city I’d still be doing fieldwork.”

There was something familiar about his face, though Lita couldn’t place it. It niggled at her, and she wrinkled her nose in irritation. “You say you found his tailor? That could be useful. Who is it?”

@Voidus

Edited March 16, 2022 by ZincAboutIt

[Voidus]

Laurelai smiled at Lita's shared appreciation for the well-dressed man, good to know that they had more in common with each other than just an endless hunger for mystery and headaches that wouldn't leave them alone.

And the coin. A quiet voice reminded her.

She almost winced at that, as though she could forget what had interested the two of them in this in the first place.

“You say you found his tailor? That could be useful. Who is it?” Lita asked, breaking her train of thought.

"West and Carson, over past the Bronze market." Laurelai replied. "I haven't been there much myself, other than once when I was seeing a Soother with truly dreadful tastes. He did clean up nicely though. But I know a lot of people who do if we need a way in."

She probably has an army of infiltrators and assassins she could send in. A snide comment arrived in the back of her mind. She doesn't need you to make introductions.

"But my time might be better spent trying a few stamps." Laurelai suggested with a moments hesitation. "It's not exactly something I've tried much before, but theoretically records are relatively cognitively stable, people don't usually think of them as being much other than what they are. And since I was already in that room looking through those files it wouldn't be a tremendous change for me to have stayed there looking through more."

It was the solution she'd thought of while walking to the Alleys, having to leave before retrieving hard details was difficult but this was at least one way that she could potentially turn that into an asset. And there was no way for somebody to track what she'd looked into if she hadn't actually looked into them. She wasn't sure how clear the memories would be on something like this, usually her Soul Stamps were for changing something physical or a set of well-learned abilities, not specific memories like this. And since she didn't already know what was in the files it would be even more difficult. But where was she supposed to experiment if not here?
@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

Intriguing, Lita thought, listening to Laurelai’s suggestion. She had little experience with Forgery, other than what to look for if it was done imperfectly. Tin could spot a multitude of sins. But this was a level Lita had not considered.

”You’re welcome to attempt it.” Lita stood and set her now-empty glass back onto the bar. “If nothing comes of it, we will try the more direct route of West and Carson. One of the clerks owes me a favor, and I’ve yet to cash it in.”

As she spoke, she opened one of her drawers to check on a set of spanreeds. Perfect. The one on the far left was blinking. She set it on a piece of letter stock and watched it fly across the surface. When complete, Lita picked up the page and frowned at the single sentence.

What? That can’t be right. 
She sent a direct Alleycant transmission this time, requesting confirmation of results. The reply was just as short.

Confirming: No results found. 
Lita chewed her lip, then sat back down, a vague queasiness twisting in her gut as she reached into her pocket for the Coin. At the same time, something bloomed within her, beautiful and hot and hungry. 
She flipped the Coin up into the air and caught it, green eyes fixed on the air before her, and recalled the flushed, good-natured face of the man she’d met on the night of the Festival. 

Reshilore. The man who, by all accounts and city records, apparently did not exist.

Lita’s smile was as slender and sharp as a scalpel. Finally, a secret just for her. As they said, if you wanted something done right in this world, you had to do it yourself. 

@Voidus

[Voidus]

Laurelai didn't even try to read the message that Lita received, it would doubtless be either obscure or coded, possibly both. And if it were something she could actually make sense of then that would probably be a quick way to sign her own execution. But it did not take a master Forger to read Lita's expression after receiving it. A disquieting sense of unease, followed shortly after by a smile so dangerous that Laurelai would have taken a step back if she weren't already sitting.

"I think approaching the tailor is probably the best to find out his actual identity." Laurelai said, giving enough of a pause for Lita to collect herself. "Other people's identities can get a little muddled and messy in a Forgery, not to mention it would only work if there was a chance he'd have actually told me. But it should be enough that I can try to find more connections in the files themselves. He picked out a few and I managed to get the names of them at least, it would tell us if he were looking for anything suspicious."

Messy was an understatement, there was a reason so few Forgers managed to perfect Soul Stamping or Resealing. A persons history was orders of magnitudes more complex than an objects, and their cognitive self influenced in far more ways. Not just by what they thought of themselves, but what others thought of them and even further to what they thought others thought of them. It was a puzzle that never ended, just descending deeper and deeper into madness. There was no perfect way to forge a person's history, there would always be gaps.

About to speak again she paused, the thought lingering in her mind as though a sign of something important. Laurelai may not be the most impulsive woman in the world but she did trust her instincts on most things. Instincts processed information far faster than the rational mind could, and often made important connections even if it didn't always give the working out for how it arrived at such conclusions. So why did she feel that this was an important thing for her to think about.

She'd thought about it before as well, the headaches, the memory lapses, it felt almost like the snapback from a slight problem with a Forgery. Flashes of things that were familiar but you had no real memory of, missing periods of time, headaches when memory and reality tried to align themselves.

"Possible I suppose." She murmured aloud, her brow furrowed deep in thought and Lita momentarily forgotten. "But why these people, and how could so many be maintained?"

It was impossible, there was no way a Forger could sustain that many Soul Stamps simultaneously and give enough of a connection between the person and the stamps for them to keep even at a distance. Let alone the fact that anyone stamped in that way would notice the stamp itself, smoking on their skin. The only alternative would be if they were tied up in a stamp affecting something even larger, the cognitive pull of that could distort other aspects nearby. So had someone forged the entire hospital somehow? And if so how was Lita connected?

@ZincAboutIt

[+ZincAboutIt]

Lita’s hand was halfway towards her inkwell with the intent of sending a message to West and Carson’s when she noticed the change in Laurelai’s voice. 
 

"Possible I suppose." Th girl murmured aloud, eyes unfocused and far away. "But why these people, and how could so many be maintained?"

Lita felt a chill pass through her, the sensation of a thousand ants skittering over her skin. It set her teeth on edge and twisted deep in her stomach. She forced herself to stay calm, to maintain a cool professionalism. Lita could not afford to look weak, not in front of a new acolyte. Not ever.

The Dark Alley can build on weakness, something whispered, a fragment of a memory. She could almost make out the shape of it, like the tatters of an ancient flag, once so bright. 

“But it will devour the weak,” Lita finished, whispering in a voice that only a Tineye could hear. For one fraction of a second, the memory snapped into sharp focus.

A vast room filled with hundreds of people, the excited susurrus of low chatter, and before her a man that was steel and nightmare, god and demon, riveting and ruin. One eye deep and rending, the other bright and pitiless. His hand outstretched, bearing a bright golden Coin.

Lita blinked, her hand moving automatically to her right side just as a wave of dizziness hit her hard enough that she staggered to the side. 
 

“What -“ Lita gasped, holding onto the edge of her desk, looking up at Laurelai as she did so. What is happening to me? “What’s possible?”

@Voidus

[Voidus]

No even the hospital wouldn't be big enough, it's still affecting those who have left. And other people who haven't arrived at the hospital but already show symptoms.

Her eyes were drawn to the motion of Lita stumbling a half-step but her mind barely processed it. Though perhaps in some sympathetic response she felt almost as though something had lurched beneath her at the same moment.

Not to mention the Alleys, they aren't even physically connected to the rest of the city, there's no way any ordinary Forgery could maintain its effects this far out.

She felt almost as though her brain would overheat as she flitted from one idea to the next, creating a list of possibilities and dismissing them almost as quickly. A cold shower would be so helpful right now.

cool water spilling from above, sourceless and eternal, washing away material cares and anything that was not the pool.

Her eyes snapped open from a half-lidded thoughtfulness, wide-eyed she stared at Lita and realised she had been asked a question.

“What’s possible?” The redhead asked.

Anything is possible. The waters whispered. You just need to find us again.

She shook herself at that, she'd been told that she looked like her father when she did so but it always helped clear her thoughts. So why was that memory not fading like the others did?

"A Forgery." She said, trying now to think aloud. "Or something like one. These symptoms, the memories the blank spots, the headaches. Classic signs of the cracks showing in a Soulstamp. But to affect so many people it would need to be enormous, and whoever was doing the Forging would need to be more Invested than a thousand Forgers. Is there something else maybe? Something similar but more powerful?"

Abilities sometimes repeated themselves across the cosmere and the worlds beyond. Lightweaving was found in numerous worlds, each with their own uniqueness to the power. Perhaps the DA would know of something similar to Forgery but vastly more powerful.

@ZincAboutIt @Fatebreaker

Quote

Tagging FB in the event that we need to be worried about shadow monsters appearing about now.

 

[+ZincAboutIt]

"A Forgery. Or something like one.”

Lita righted herself, frowning as Laurelai spoke. On the far side of the room, a log collapsed within the hearth, throwing sparks. Lita turned, startled.

Sparks in the air, a great blackened forge, the ring of a hammer in the dark -

”These symptoms,” Laurelai continued, “the memories the blank spots, the headaches. Classic signs of the cracks showing in a Soulstamp.”

An icy shiver trickled down Lita’s spine like water.

Water deep beneath the earth. Blue light, pure as crystal glass, reflecting off a still pool.

”But to affect so many people it would need to be enormous, and whoever was doing the Forging would need to be more Invested than a thousand Forgers.”

Lita drew in a single, deep breath. Dimly, she recognized the wild heat of a true Tin flare within her. But when had she turned it on?

A single moment of perfect clarity, a secret so sweet and so terrible she wanted to drown in it, to open her mouth and drink it until it killed her, consumed her. 

“Is there something else maybe? Something similar but more powerful?"

Lita turned to look at Laurelai, and she could tell that the green of her eyes was a bare ring around her pupils, wide and bright. “Yes,” she murmured. “There is something similar.”

A voice in the grotto, implacable and imminent as entropy. Shadows tightening about her, a hand on her shoulder.

”A god could do it,” Lita whispered, lifting her own hand as she remembered. She remembered. “A god, or something…”

Fingers trembling, reaching up to touch that hand. Impossibly real. 

”…something Stranger.”

@Voidus

[MacThorstenson]

Ronald sprinted away from the hospital, his normally calm façade slowly slipping. He held onto his briefcase and bowler hat as he stumbled toward the nearest alley.

BOOM! Ronald glanced back in a panic, his eyes having the same wild look as a fleeing animal trying to escape its predator. The sound came from near the entrance to the hospital. What was going on? Why is there an earthquake? The doctor lady said their shouldn't be one whats going on oh my void why is this happening why am I here can I get a cookie why were so many people looking for these files who is Allie what is the DASU what are they doing oh voi-

As his panicked mind continued rambling at a break neck pace his body made its way to the nearest alley and ducked inside, running to the back and pressing himself against the wall. He needed to be calm to navigate the alleys he needed to relax he needed to be in control he nee- 

A hand rested on his shoulder and a gravely voice, partially in his mind, partially in the real world spoke "Hey kid, you want a coo-"

He needed to run, to flee to hide. Reflexively he let out a little yelp and jumped, metaphorically flinging an alley in front of him. He only noticed in passing the grey clouded sky merging into the dark void of the alleys. He also only noticed in passing the things that were in his alleys. He just ran, keeping his eyes in front of him as the world bent to his fear. The adrenaline pumping in his veins gave him strength, and the alleys responded. Moving quicker and faster then he had ever been able to make them move on his own. Of course nothing comes without a price, and the added strength came at the cost of his control. His Alleymatics were like the frenzied thrashes of a drowning man. They contained a surprising amount of strength, but no direction. This loss of control only served to increase his fear, however, and led him deeper and deeper into the alleys.

Suddenly he tripped and fell, not onto concrete, but something warm and boney. Pushing himself up, the floor grabbed his hands and his legs. He ripped himself free, not understanding what he was seeing. It looked like the whole place was hands? Ronald dry heaved, but grabbed his briefcase and took another step forward, grabbing a random alley to catch himself, but instead found his legs knee deep in paint. Buckets of it. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He needed to calm down. His shoes were ruined and if he wasn't careful the rest of his outfit would be too. That was something he could focus on, not hands, or being lost in the alley's, or mysterious earthquakes that reminded him of fighting gods. His suit. It was there, and he needed to take care of it. 

He took another breath. And with his heart pumping he reached out for the alley outside his office. As if offering up different appetizers at a party, the alley's responded with suggestions of the closer, and easier alleys. But he pushed through those, gritting his teeth at the effort. He had been lucky that he was still here. Running through the alleys aimlessly was nearly suicidal. While its true that there was an infinite number of uninhabited, safe alleys, there were also an infinite number of alleys that would kill you immediately. While in theory, it might be easier to route through 2-3 alleys to get to a destination, he wasn't good enough to tell which alleys were safe. He only followed the standard routes, but there was no route that led to where he was. Forcing himself to be calm, he carefully slid the alley in front of him, and took a step forward into the familiar sight of his office building. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way up the elevator, dripping white paint off the left leg and blue off the right. The elevator opened its doors to a receptionists desk and a door labeled Ronald Darsen behind it. He mentioned to the receptionist that he needed the DA cleaning department to take a look at his shoes and pants, then stumbled into his office and locked the door. 

What had he gotten himself into?

[Voidus]

Laurelai could hear her pulse, a rapid pulsing which thundered in her ears. But somehow Lita's words seemed to cut through that roaring torrent with ease, the faint whisper clearly audible and the room, maybe even the Alleys themselves seemed to still at the whisper.

”A god could do it,” Lita said, with what felt like arduous slowness. Laurelai was impatient for the next words, but somehow felt like she already knew them. “A god, or something… something Stranger."

The room fell quiet, an all-encompassing silence enveloped them and for a moment Laurelai was worried that her heart itself may have stopped beating. But though that silence should have dominated the space, somehow in this soundless interior it was Lita's words that pressed upon her.

"Something Stranger?" Laurelai said at last, her voice felt small and near ready to break. "You don't mean..."

But she did, Laurelai knew she did, and even knew why she did. She almost felt a hand pushing a warm metallic coin into her grip, but not the cool, comforting hands of her mother. Strong hands, callused and somehow cold beyond anything that temperature differentials could explain. Something stranger indeed, something that she and Lita had both spoken to, right after...

Find us. The waters whispered again. Find your answers.

She saw the gentle rain once again, not surrounding her, but in front of her, just out of reach. And she knew that if only she could reach it once more then she would have everything she ever wanted, that then she could simply lie there beneath the silent dark droplets.

Dark?

Her eyes widened as she looked past the memory, the rain vanished along with the faded memories. But there were other droplets that were not memories at all, dark black fluid that silently dripped from the ceiling onto the floor behind Lita. Fluid that began to coalesce and form a living creature.

Laurelai screamed, leaping to her feet and toppling her chair over in her haste. Her hand felt slow, like it was moving through molasses as she raised to point at the creature now forming, trying to get Lita to see it, to do anything to stop it. And then her voice caught in her throat as she saw a shadow on the table, a shadow cast not by the shadow creature in front of her, but by something behind.

@ZincAboutIt