I think I am here.

I stand, quiet as he walks closer and talks to me. Beautiful soul. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know my soul, what I’ve done or not done. I’m the one who knows him. I know his name, how he came to be, what he does in Sanctuary. I know his experiments, his motives and who he is. It’s always better this way. Where I’m just the man on the street, or in the bar. Where I’m no one, and the target is everyone. “It’s been a long time,” I respond. “You get used to it eventually.” I step back and stare at Raphael. Something seems to be boiling beneath my surface. Raphael, initially irritated by why I picked him. Asking whether I wanted him to juggle apples. “And I did sate my curiosity, in fact,” I say. “I can’t remember the last time I actually cared about any of my targets. At least, cared enough to follow them home of my own accord, not because I was being paid to by one of their enemies. You know how hard it is, to find an actually interesting person? An interesting person to discover to talk to? Everyone else is the same, like they fit in these neat little boxes! But not you, understand?” I step back again and wish I had my coat. It feels freeing, to talk so much, but it’s unprofessional. And it implies something I don’t want to admit. Silent, I continue to look at Raphael as the cold overhead light shines down on me.

I'm in the alleys. Wes quickly held up his device as he heard it beep and read the message. Alleys. Had Mike gotten lost? Everyone knew what lurked in the Alleys, and Wes knew Mike wasn’t the type of person to go and seek them out. Before replying he waited until Mike had sent everything. Met some strange people and Xanas took me here. Would you like to meet later? Once he lets me go? Mike wanted to meet later. Wes has been keeping a guard on himself, but he couldn’t stop a bright smile from forming on his face. Mike wanted to meet! But the rest of the message was odd. Strange people? Someone needing to let Mike go? It sounded like a prisoner situation, but it didn’t seem like Mike was worried. I would really like that. I have a lot to talk to you about. He turned to the Kalea, staring at him with big eyes. And there’s someone else I want you to meet, too. Before he could type more the Righthand approached and he stood straighter. She wasn’t as scary as the rest, that part was clear. And by now Wes was sure if the kindness was all a test, he would be dead already. So, he had to assume the kindness was real. “Thank you,” Wes said, clutched the note and read it fully, before placing it in his pocket. It was an option, an escape. Quietly he made his way to the main group, wrapping his cloak around him tighter. Technically he wasn’t an underling anymore, so he didn’t need the cloak. But it meant so much to him. For a long time it had been his only comfort, the large cloak. - — - I think we should go the way we came, Max said. And get a sample of any new thing we find, like that mushroom. I’ll send a Canton team down here later, we can go with them if you want. Or, He looked at Althea, near the underling kid. We could go deeper into this cave system. See what we find.

Actually, this one was already announced. I posted my reply here, but I don’t think Ark did.

He looks to her, checks his cheap watch and orders another drink at the bar. She’s sitting with a crowd of her friends. Her laugh is soft and beautiful. He turns and ignores the chatting of his own friends, and for a moment his eyes meet hers from across the bar. They hold the glance, and there’s so much said in just that look. He smiles and she does too. — John walked out of the bar, holding his coat close to him. It was colder than he was expecting in Tokyo. Of course, he was only here for a short time. Some sort of meeting. But he couldn’t help but stop at one of the bars and do his thing: matchmaking. The slight pink mist around his hands dissipated as he walked to where he was supposed to. They’ll have a happy relationship, he decided, thinking on the woman and man in the bar. They were perfect for each other, he’d been able to tell with his power. He’d used a little bit of his magic and even from across the bar a bond was formed between them. They wouldn’t think anything was odd, they wouldn’t even know a God of Love existed, let alone helped them meet their ultimate soulmate. John sighed. Yes, they’ll have a beautiful and relationship. Lucky them. The old arena was littered with corpses and he tried his best to ignore them. When he finally approached at the meeting place most of the other gods seemed to be there, the God of Death himself heading the meeting. Something about an alliance? “Sorry I’m late,” he said unenthusiastically. “Had to do something. What’s this about an alliance? And why us specifically?” Quietly he walked over to where people were seated and sat down, watching all of the gods here, in their full godly form. Some looked like humans, like him. Looking human helped one not stand out. Looking who he was next to he saw what looked like a teenager. Of course, you could never tell the real age with gods. Immortality and all. “What a meeting, right?” He said to her. “I don’t think we’ve had a gathering like this for a while.” @kenod

Wes nodded, staring at his Kalea and stuffing his device in his pocket. No response from Mike. Or maybe the connection was terrible down here. Behind him people were discussing things about a public gold rush, and keeping this atium store a secret. He thought about sitting down but the words of the Righthand to be ready to leave stopped him. He didn’t want to be left behind, in these dark caves. Instead, he held the enclosure for the Kalea up and close to his face, watching it walk closer and sniff the air. “Do you think that’s the right thing to do?” He whispered to the small creature. “To leave all this here for the DA to take, to keep it all a secret? From everyone, from Mike?” The Kalea stared at him with big eyes. “Yeah, you’re right,” Wes said, looking down. “Maybe it is the best thing to do. And maybe I can tell Mike. Telling one person shouldn’t be an issue, right. But no one else, okay?” he looked up quickly to the Kalea and it sat down, which Wes took as a confirmation. He smiled. “Thanks.” —- Max watched as Althea spoke to the underling boy. It was a good trait in a leader, to make sure the smaller guys didn’t get hurt. Max made a note to check on how some of the Canton interns were doing when he got back. As long as the rest of the cave is open to research, he said secretly to Althea. I’ll count it as a win. There’s a lot of things of use here other than the atium that I think people are overlooking.

With heavy steps Brillin made his way downstairs, unsure of how many minutes had lapsed in his fight with the mirror. It must have been more than he’d thought, because Lance was in the main parlour area, along with Nerin and Attayl, who was by the bar. At the sight of Lance he had no reaction, instead staying by the foot of the stairs. “I see Lance is on our side again?” He asked to no one in particular before dragging his eyes to the man in question. “Wonderful.”

“I...” Avanti struggles for words, and suddenly the world seems to be crashing down around him. This whole illusion, the manor, the woman and the possibility that Avanti could ever be anything else than a boy on the street. He blinks and steps back. But it’s not my place to settle down here. I have the rebellion, and I’ve been dawdling my thumbs while my sister rots in a cell somewhere. He turns away from Samantha, those soothing eyes now looking at him in shock, and before anyone bursts into the room he takes a running start and barges through the window.

His first actions are subtle, but I’ve spent years catching the subtle. I see how he holds the blanket, even without tin, but when he speaks the emotion betrays itself. I hold still. It must have been the comment about my job. The falsehood. He doesn’t know wasn’t paid to be here. That I came here, broke my own rules to see who he was. And maybe he doesn’t have to know. He revealed himself, but I don’t have to do. Subconsciously my hand snakes into my pocket to a find a cigarette to take the edge off. But there’s nothing there, only the empty lab coat. I force myself to look at Raphael. Balance on a stool and juggle some apples. He’s an experiment. A product of whoever did the work on him. And now he does surgery himself. He doesn’t live in his real body. I look down at myself. It’s late at night. I should be tired, but I’m not. I haven’t felt tired since I died years ago. And came back, somehow. “This isn’t my original body, either,” I say, leave it in the air. Let it be another thing that connects us. He isn’t the only one.

Marriage, Avanti thinks. Company through the night hours. He looks towards Samantha next to him. Poor lady. Ready to be wed, only for her suitor to be taken by the rebellion. But he was a terrible man, Avanti thinks, shaking his head. He was yelling at those workers. And these nobles, they live in luxury while the rest in squalor. As he leans towards Samantha and smells the perfume, he smiles before the cruel reality begins to set in. His smile shifts to a Foran and he steps back harshly, standing up. I have to go, I have to leave. This luxury, the woman, it’s keeping me here. “I need to leave,” Avanti says, the lightweaving of the nobleman’s voice, suddenly dropping at his stress. He looks towards Samantha. Pretty, but how could Avanti have gotten so distracted from his mission? The rebellion, poking the nobles, saving his sister... and he was here making small talk with a noblewoman. “I’m so sorry, this is all, I’m going. I have to go.”

They can just send for physicians! Avanti thinks, only imagining the power to have a doctor to arrive on command. His wonder of this whole new world is only amplified by the perfume Samantha wears and Avanti smiles genuinely at her, accepting the cup of tea. It’s a little hard to get the lightweaving to work with drinking the tea, but he tries his best. The tea is hot and herbal, and warms him from within. He looks to Samantha. “Just a little hoarse from yelling. You know how those undercity men never listen.” Avanti sits, almost hypnotised by her, the manor, everything. A brief thought appears and flourishes in his mind — what am I doing? I was supposed to leave by sunset! — but he dismisses it and smiles at Samantha. “You’re looking beautiful tonight.”

Rob grit his teeth when the Voidbringers drew their weapons. Jenna —a Radiant? The thought and what it implied was interesting but Rob found his mind focusing only on the Voidbringers. They were evil, pure evil. The leader, she was right and she was wrong. The Radiants were outnumbered. And we’re only teenagers. He looked to Shana and Edwin. We’re pretty skilled for teenagers, though. Maybe the Voidbringers underestimated them. Maybe they thought Rob would die easily. Maybe they thought Shana would give up, that Edwin would let himself be killed. Oh, how wrong they were. The black sphere in Rob’s pocket began pulsing and as the Voidbringers advanced all he could think about was how he hated them. How they thought they were mice to be dispersed of. Hate them, a foreign voice whispered in his ear and it felt so natural. Taking out a small piece of folded cloth from his pocket Rob breathed stormlight into it, making it snap open, firm and sharp. In a sudden movement of anger he threw it straight at the woman, aiming for centre of mass.

As Wita walked, Marcel decided to follow her, partly to see what she found, partly in case she got lost or something happened. Although they had only met hours earlier this night, Marcel found himself growing protective of her. He recalled him stopping the hippies from giving anything to her. Well, except for the pebble. But a pebble was a pebble. As he walked next to Wita he caught himself mid-step. Was that tip-tap the wind? No, it was something else. As he strained his ears he thought he could hear footsteps of some kind. And — yes, there were other things that were off, quiet whisperings. Marcel looked to the strip of light and prepared himself to bring his scalpel. “They’re here already,” he whispered quietly to Wita. He nodded his head towards the small strip of light. “They don’t know we know they’re there. We have to take them out, before they alert their superiors.” Superiors... Marcel shivered. What they had dealt were before were simple goons. Whoever would be here, it would be the real deal. “We need to distract them, then attack when they aren’t suspecting.”

One thing Avanti’s most surprised by is the softness. The warm colours, the carpeted ground that makes way as he steps forward toward the woman on a couch. What was her name again? Avanti remembers getting information on her. It wasn’t too important but he’d listened anyway. Samantha. Avanti nods to himself. The couches, too, even the clothing the lady, Samantha, wears seem so... soft. Gentle on the eyes. Way different from the undercity. Avanti hasn’t known much more than the harsh coldness of the undercity. The icy chill of his spike, aching in his chest. The sharp emotions of fear and the hardness of iron and rock. I haven’t seen this much soft fabric, since... ever. “If only,” he replies to Samantha, making sure to keep his lightweaving of the noble’s voice. “But... they would be too caught up with this estate, I think, to have any meaningful conversation.” That part is true. Sure, merchants had money, but... this seems like a whole other planet. Avanti sits on the couch and tries to keep himself from staring at Samantha. She feels almost magnetic to him, pulling him closer, keeping him here. Avanti looks outside. It’s way past sunset, but he’s still here. He could leave. He should leave. “How was your day...” He asks instead, hesitating for a second. “Dear?”

Avanti follows the footman, trying not to outwardly show his marvel at the decorations. This is richness beyond which he’s ever seen. He feels a sour taste as he passes hallways and paintings hung from intricately carved walls. This luxury, at the backs of so many workers. It’s wasteful. But as he reaches a large door and the footman retreats, Avanti is left to his own devices. Behind the door, what will there be? He feels guilty, but the allure is too strong and he knocks on the fancy door once before entering, still wearing the lightweaving of the noble.

A vague answer, a shift of the subject. I make a note of the second surgeon, the confirmation in my suspicion. Looking after his own. His own children? Creatures? That’s the thing with these types. The deeper you get into who they are, the more unpredictable they become. Ironically, understanding them more only makes you realise how little you know. I dislike that realisation. And I dislike unpredictability. “Because I was curious,” I respond simply. But it was more than that. I can’t stop myself from continuing. “And because I couldn’t figure you out when I saw you. I couldn’t ‘place’ you, couldn’t tell what type of person you are. You stood out, and that mystery drove me wild. And as I peeled back the layers things only got more interesting. You had my attention as soon as I saw you. I had to know who you are. What you do.” I stand up straighter. “It’s part of my job description, after all.”

Worked hard. Through pain and loss. Wes replayed the words in his mind, remembering the people the worm had eaten, his hope that they could be alive. What a simple phrase. Pain and loss. Three words. Wes looked at Adren and then at the atium. Take some for himself? It seemed like a bad thing to do, to reduce his travels to a handful of atium. He looked to the atium and scooped some that someone had dropped off of the ground. He felt a little empty. The violence, politics and compromises had gotten to him. It seemed so naive in retrospect to think it would end any other way than the big organisation taking everything for itself. Wes hugged himself. It was like a bully. And that meant the trip was over. Wes idly remembered his entrance, when he’d ran from Mike, from that party. He’d abandoned his only friend. For what? A couple metal beads. He thought he was too exhausted to cry, but his eyes began tearing up nonetheless and he turned away from everyone to hide it, moving to a corner of the room. He still held his Kalea in the box and it peered at him as he took out his device, trying to stop his hand from trembling. Are you there, Mike?

“Agreed,” Alask said. Shez growled and he graciously accepted the pancake from Lena. It seemed second-nature, the hint of hesitance that had been there a while ago seemed to disappear. Here was a person who poisoned people for fun, offering food. Alask bit into the pancake. It tasted good. He looked to where the Marines were. “It seems they do some service for the Church. Maybe construction? But no, nothing seems to be built. Security, then? In that case, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be robbing a full base. Just maybe their de facto office in the Church. And maybe that’s a heist we can pull off.”

“None of your concern,” Rob said, trailing behind Shana. The dark sphere pulsed as he entered the house, his eyes scanning the room as he entered. He didn’t like fantasy books, but he found himself comparing the situation to a scene in that movie they watched. Ring Lords? He remembered the scene where that little man was in the cave with the huge spider. It felt a bit like that, wandering into a spider web, having no choice but to follow the Voidbringer’s commands. It irritated him. He found himself slightly surprised at the irritation, and then surprised at his surprise. It wasn’t very normal of him. He finally rested his eyes on the woman that seemed to lead them. The one that kept taunting them. A thick trail. Rob knew they had to be less obvious in their actions. And now they had an Voidbringer infestation in a house so near to theirs. Infestation. Again, Rob was reminded of the disgusting image of cockroaches. He glanced to the woman, looking at her but not seeing her, trying to imagine a grotesque, twisted Voidbringer face. Red eyes, and everything else he’d heard rumours. This was a mask, it hid the true monster within. Rob stayed put, tried to keep his face still. “What do you expect us to do? Allow you to stay here?”

“First,” Price says, the vague corners of his dream seeming to sharpen. Patterns flow through his mind, and he looks down to the plans and sketches of ideas and experiments in his ledger. First is a weird name. And why is that figure there. And when is Price? “I...” he tries to think. “In the one-thousand-and-twelfth year of the sun. Is that right? I have work to do, experiments... I got promoted recently. Went on a trip. A trip... nomad lands. Has that already happened?” Everything seems so weird and yet it feels natural to just accept it.

As the carriage opens and reveals the massive manor house, Avanti stares with wide eyes. He looks to the carefully kept grass, such a contrast to the dirt he grew up in. He blinks back into reality and then continues his role. He has to be the nobleman. As the sun dips below the horizon and the clouds light up in ambers and oranges, he remembers his orders. Disappear at sunset. No one will no where the nobleman went. No one will even know that the real nobleman was already taken way before the day ended. But something the footman says grabs his attention, and he makes sure to use his lightweaving voice. “A... lady?” He asks, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. He looks to the manor and the grasses. He’s been sent for missions before, but this is the first time he’s been in a rich area, an area with green grass. He hesitates. He wants to hate the nobles, how they live in luxury while others in squalor. But. He looks to the mansion. “I, Uh,” he takes a moment before clearing his throat and putting on his lightweaved voice. “Well, I can’t just keep her waiting, can I?” Maybe a little deviation from the plan wouldn’t be too bad...

Avanti keeps silent as the carriage begins to move forward and the guard captain begins small-talk. It seems like the noble had quite the loud mouth on him, would it appear weird if Avanti didn’t say anything? And yet — he wasn’t sure of the noble’s voice. If he messed up, it could ruin the disguise fully. It might be best to pretend he didn’t hear the captain, or... Avanti tried remembering the best he could from the nobleman’s yells, and slowly tries recreating the best voice he can. He adds a little bit of hoarseness as well. “I’m fine. I think I got some dust in my throat from the scuffle. Storming undercity.” Hopefully that smooths over any edges the guards can fine. Avanti adds a couple coughs too, for realism.