Private Random Access Memories; Read Only Soul

Dashmiel

Bearly In Charge
Administrator
Nexus GM
art credit: https://www.deviantart.com/regnar3712





On a normal and unassuming day...

It was a leisurely “business” day in the Leaky Servo. Across the myriad spaces the venue provided, Xilunexus counted 3,476 patrons currently being served. That was 3,476 instances of her consciousness all running in parallel. A cake walk for her. She couldn't access her main core from within Nexus space; it was as if the core of this place refused to allow her passage to the liminal space between realms. For whatever reason, a connection to her full capabilities was forbidden here. Still, the part of her network she could reach— a few thousand "Matrioshka brains"—still made for a significant part of her overall output. She was happy here with the compromise.

“I’ll take a meat pie...the same way my dearly departed nana used to make,” requested the scruffy figure in dusty worn clothes in a sheepish, scared to hope voice.

The man was a recently transplanted refugee to the Nexus like so many others. He was 36 years old by his planet’s reckoning. He donated what little he earned to his less fortunate peers, had a sweet tooth that he didn’t know about yet on account of never tasting a pastry, and hid a guilty (ridiculous to feel that way, she thought) penchant for writing erotic poetry. The last two were extrapolated with only a 96% certainty; his profile was still too fresh.

“Right away Marius,” responded the holographic representation of Xilunexus in a cheery tone next to him. This was her favorite part of the whole enterprise, despite the fact it reoccurred thousands of times in any given day. That moment when her patrons made their first scared “special” request; baring their desires despite the fear that they couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t be met. Well maybe not elsewhere, but this was the Leaky Servo.

It also afforded her with a precious instant to gather more data. And a literal instant it was; the blasted whatever-whomever never gave her the smallest of openings despite her best attempts to coax "it". It couldn't be called communication. At least no more than she could call her automated heuristics daemons requesting updates from her as communication.

Interfacing with the Nexus "entity"—and here she was unashamedly displaying wishful thinking in her word choice, that favored trait in Organics that she treasured—felt much like logging into a parts store netsite and placing an order. She had already determined that all of the avenues she currently could access would not result in understanding the process, alas.

However, it worked. No sooner had she "put in her order" with the Nexus, that she knew how to make Alishu's (Marius' 'nana') meat pie exactly, even down to the radiation profile it gave off after coming out of a traditional Gheravir wood fired stone oven. From there, her own technology made the magic happen.

The range of emotions playing out on the refugee's face at the first bite made this "retirement" from her main task all worth it. She sneaked him a pastry from the human world of Earth known as an 'éclair' without his prompting and winked as she disappeared from his view.

Similar scenes played out 3,475 more times simultaneously. Maybe if she had been taxed more she would have missed it, and everything would have been okay. Unlikely however. Wishful thinking was one thing, but self-delusion was impossible for her. It only took a femtosecond after the rift's opening for her to notice it, and detect the broadcast. The realization of how badly this could turn out for her people and the risk it posed to her primary mission followed a femtosecond after.

Through the rift—for an instant before something cut it off—came a radio broadcast. It was a Va'nyrian broadcast by its characteristics, but it wasn't encoded for them. It was her carrier wave modulating the signal; the handshake protocol of her main core when commanding a fragment to merge processes. She was saved by whatever cut off the transmission. Despite the 10 billion years since she last used EM propagation for her computations, the protocol was still active and would have automatically been carried out.

She immediately began to gently disperse the bar patrons, coaxing them calmly to depart due to unforeseen maintenance requirements. Meanwhile, she looked through the trillions of her sensors spread throughout the bar in search of the rift. She couldn't find it, which meant it could only be in one place.

Xilunexus slipped into one of her seldom used physical shells, and walked through her backroom towards the corridor leading to the under-cellar. It had been a stroke of luck when she discovered the set of stimuli that allowed her to convince "It" to allow for the spatial manipulation of Nexus City localized within this section of the otherwise static Wayfarer's point.

All but the under-cellar.

That one room remained in it's original Nexus City configuration, regardless of how hard Xilunexus tried to convince "it" otherwise. She turned the corner of the bare gray stone corridor, and faced a nondescript door of bleached white wood. Around the door frame were a series of symbols that they had been unable to decipher. Even Diarneus, their resident authority in both lingustics and the metaphysical could only identify that they emanated very low level warding magic, but otherwise could derive no meaning into the glyphs.

The door—which was usually kept closed as there was nothing stored there—was currently ajar.

Xilunexus was incapable of a fear response, but when she finally pierced through his obfuscating programs a whole quarter of a second later (out of all Va'nyrians, only he could hide from her with any effectiveness) she detected Alaxel standing before the rift. Her self-preservation subroutines began to throw up alarms.

He shouldn't be awake, he shouldn't be here, and he most definitely should not be fully geared in his forbidden kit. The All-Mother would kill her; she already calculated that at her currents body's max speed she had no hope of preventing the ancient warrior from entering the rift.

She tried anyways.

The air warped as the speed of her passing smashed the air molecules into a series of booms, and she was rewarded with visual confirmation of the Starbreath in his full battle attire slipping through the rift. Once again, Xilunexus had managed to lose Nilin's husband.

She barked a very organic laugh as she considered the faintly blurred landscape behind the rift's terminus. She opened a connection to Nilin to relay the events and break the news that the past had finally caught up with them.




The approach into the Leaky Servo involved a series of unassuming corridors terminating in a grand double door; a masterpiece of a portal whose height faded into the shadowed recesses of an unseen roof. Wrought of opalescent white metal with glowing gold veins that occasionally thrummed with an emerald hue. It was a familiar path for many who frequented the bar. The only differences on this day lay on the path before and after the doors.

All the way from the most remote corners of Nexus City to the trading hubs in Wayfarer's Point. Flashing on every wall and information terminal. An impossible to miss advertisement: The Va'nyrian All-Mother's contract with it's mysterious infinity symbol as the payout, instructing hopefuls to inquire within the Leaky Servo. Copies of these would be unmissable for nearly everyone visiting the Nexus.

Many inquired within, but that was were the difference after the doors came in. Gone were the extravagant trappings of uncountable worlds neatly compartmentalized by energy barriers. In their place was a single grand room, with a decor matching the grand entry doors in display.

This wasn't the bar at the moment, it was the Va'nyrian court. Dominating the far end was an elevated dais cast in the same white metal, rainbow colored veins shimmering just under the surface. Upon a plain seat that nonetheless became a throne by her very presence, sat Nilin Gvyhe'Arne. Supreme Star Speaker, All-Mother, once and forever Goddess of Va'nyria.

One didn't need to have ever met a Va'nyrian to note the displeasure in her features. To her side "stood" Xilunexus, still inhabiting one of her physical shells. Before the dais were five high backed seats, and a steady stream of hopefuls did no more than sit upon them before a shake of Nilin's head made them stand and leave. There wasn't any magic going on to speak of, it was simply that the air she gave off left no room for questioning; without needing to speak, you knew when she dismissed you.

So it was that the next group of five hopefuls sat before her. This time Nilin's eyebrows rose as the room around the dais and table faded from view, obscuring the departing and waiting throngs. The first trial was passed; it was time for the interview to begin.

"Please state your names and why you are here," Nilin demanded, her tone official and commanding.
 
“You can’t keep hacking every new gadget, babe,” said Circe. “Besides, I’m running late.”

“Then why are you just standing around?” Blue glancing at Circe sideways with a teasing grin.

“Because you’re---”

“Doing you a massive favor, cupcake? Yes, I know,” muttered Blue as she clicked away at the keyboard.

Circe had brought this on herself, of course. If she’d had any sense, she’d had gotten rid of the cyborg when she had found her in the derelict, unconscious for who really even knew how long. Instead, she’d let her soft heart melt and allowed the crazy, killer cyborg on her ship, letting her heal and grow, and flourish, becoming the very best tech that all of Nexus had to offer. That’s why she was sitting there, destroying the brand new AI scanner she had just bought. Circle clutched at her face, realizing what a horrible mistake she had made.

“Blue... that’s brand new,” Circe informed her, barely breathing the cyborg’s name. “It’s only three months old!”

“Yes, and it acts like it,” she snorted, unplugging the artificial construct and sauntering over to Circe with it. But Circe was captivated by those burning amber eyes. “Did you really think I was going to let you leave this ship with outdated technology, cupcake?”

Blue came mere inches from her face, and Circe allowed her to drop the small computer in one hand, whilst she pulled Blue in with the other. Blue wrapped her arms around Circe’s neck and pressed her chest into hers. Their lips met and warmly pressed together as they leaned into each other’s loving embrace. Blue pulled away before Circe wanted her to, but she held on with two hands placed below her waist, having dropped the computer sometime during the dizzying kiss. Blue nuzzled her nose, and she felt her hot breath on her face. “If it was any good, I wouldn’t be able to hack it. And now, only I can. You’re welcome.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Circe whispered in agony.

“Am I?” Blue’s burning eyes squinted as she bit her lips through her infamously wicked grin. Circle chuckled along. But her smile disappeared in an instant, with nothing but concern left on her elvish features.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she said so softly it caused Circe’s heart to sink. “There are other ways. If you just--.”

“No,” Circe cut her off sharply. She was not going to let her talk her out of this now. Not when she spent a fortnight talking herself into it. Blue presses her mouth into a thin line. She was a fighter, but even she knew the discussion is over. But she waited... as if Circe could change her mind at any moment. Blue’s words from before echoed in her head….Whatever this Goddess had lost, whatever she was looking for, whatever was worth paying literally any price for… you’d have to be a fool to not know it was a suicide mission… is it worth it?

Circe held her ground until Blue unwrapped her hands from around her neck and stepped back. Not even a killer cyborg could withstand Circe’s forbidding stare for long. “Well, then,” Blue said, turning to walk away, exasperated. “Don’t die, or I’ll kill you.”

“Love you too,” Circe smiled at her shrinking form...

For every step Blue took away from her, Circe felt like she was making a terrible mistake...

*******

Circe was glad she had let Blue determine the color shading of her suit this time around. God forbid she had picked out the very unexciting matte gray as she had decided on and Blue hadn’t interjected. She would have been feeling sorely overwhelmed right about now. Instead, her suit swirled in elegant shades of violet and purple that swirled like a cloudy night sky, allowing her to feel right at home along with the exceptionally regal modifications that had been made to the bar.

The Leaky Servo wasn’t unfamiliar to Circe. She recalled her first tour here; how very new, intimidated, and lost she had felt at the time. Over time, the feeling went away, and it had become a haven of sorts. It was hard to deny the unmistakable pull, and what an effect it had on her wayward soul, plagued with a seemingly incurable wanderlust. She certainly had learned the lay of the place since then. But it had never appeared quite so majestic before--truly a staggering transformation.

The feelings that arose were much like she had felt during that first visit. And it wasn’t just the tangible that had been modified. Something deeper had shifted within the very fabric of the space. The electric tension in the air was unmistakable. No one needed to be a Seeker to take instant notice. There was more to it than that. Other things that were noticed by the pirate that perhaps others couldn’t. A well of vexation, agitation, indignation …. Coming directly from the All-mother herself.

Gods. How silly. Did Circe believe in Gods anymore? If anyone were to ask, she’d simply deny any belief in any so-called Deities. There was always a scientific explanation behind everything, she reasoned. A superior, all-powerful being calling themselves a God posed all matter of red flags. Was she supposed to bow, remove her mask, or something? The thought brought a wry smile to her lips. She was a pirate. She belonged nowhere, to no one, save for Blue. Her ship was her home. She owed allegiance to nobody but herself, and her crew. But if she were to be honest with herself, there was a small part of her that was still that young, devout Seeker, who venerated the Great Mind, regardless of her claims that belief had died so very long time ago.

Circle entered with a confident stride, walking past everything and everyone, and took an empty seat before the All-Mother, trying and failing not to feel like an insignificant ant. When told to state her name, and why she was here, she merely presented a hologram of the All-Mother contract from her computer.

“Captain Nightlocke… at your service.”

Whether or not Circe was recognized by her pirate name or by the famous corvette-class light frigate she piloted, that she had “borrowed” from someone that owed her, she hoped the proclaimed Goddess would spare her reputation, as her crew had never stolen anything from the All-Mother herself. She reckoned she’d never been able to set foot in the Leaky Servo if that were the case.
 
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Ezrael

An infinity of money, something he had grown to love and hate at the same time, could give Ezrael time. He looked around, having seen a particularly breathtaking individual that interrupted his thoughts for a moment. Before arriving to the Nexus he hadn't really needed it at all, money. But now he used it, and consequently became a slave to it like many others.

The big, white furred cervitaur had recently returned from a bittersweet mission. Their coal had been accomplished at a high cost. He had done his job well, as always, but he could and should do better. His hooves clicked against the floor as he walked toward the Leaky Servo, a spot he frequented. It had given him comfort and familiarity where there were only ashes and sadness. He was positive he could do something, anything, to help there now. As unusual as this was. He confidently quickened his pace into a light trot. It was then that his magic pulled him toward another person, something that had never once happened since he left his own dimension. Familiar! It was screaming. But who was this, really? He approached... Her, curious.

Kathryne

She had come for nothing more than the usual drink. She'd told herself on many occasions in the past that it was the last time she'd come to this bar, the last time she'd sit down at the counter, and the last time she'd pick up a glass only to twirl the amber liquid inside and remind herself of all the reasons she wasn't permitting herself to do this again.

The drink always won out.

This time, however, things were clearly different about the Leaky Servo. It brought on a cold shot of dread coupled immediately by gut-twisting relief, both of which together were enough to make her spine shiver with anticipation and fear. Something big was happening, and it didn't involve drinking someone under the table.

For several long moments, Kathryne stood and stared at one of the advertisements outside the entrance to the Leaky Servo. At one point, the hairs on her neck rose and her ears were pulled back towards the sound of hooves clipping across a hard floor, and while she tried to ignore it and continue reading, her attention would not remain on the ad. Finally, she turned around, and for the second time in several minutes, her veins were gifted a shot of frigid shock. Immediately thereafter, she decided she did not want to interact with this person, and Kathryne hastily averted her gaze, driving it back to the advertisement. Unfortunately, it was already too late. She'd been noticed.

Ezrael

Just as she knew she had been noticed, Ezrael had the same feeling. He walked closer, but not enough to crowd the woman. She looked like a woman at least, but where did he know her from?. His mind struggled to unpack centuries of memories, locating her presence more than her image. She probably didn't remember him, judging by her reaction. Maybe they hadn't gotten along?, it was rare, but it happened.

"Excuse me ma'am, I'm pretty sure I know you. It's never happened before. Am I mistaken?" He dared ask, not bothering to lean down. His voice was clear. He looked the same, perhaps with some scars and less fabrics. His body was covered in white fur, and his deer nose sniffed in her direction intently.

Kathryne

Cautiously, she looked up at him again, folding her arms across her chest in a manner revealing her discomfort.

"You must be," she answered simply, a hint of curtness to her tone. "I haven't seen you here before."

Ezrael

His curiosity was dampened by her response, but he would try one more time.

"Are you sure?, haven't we met outside of this realm?, many years ago?" He stepped back a bit, giving her more space. He would think about it more, but he was sure they must have met.

Kathryne

She also stepped back, just a pace, and appraised this cervitaur for a long moment, taking in the details. Even if she did recognize him, however, she continued to deny it, instead shaking her head.

"No. I'm not sure what you mean." Her gaze flicked up to his face. "If you'll excuse me, I have things to be doing."

Ezrael

The cerv's features darkened, and he nodded in polite acceptance. It wasn't directed at her, whatever negativity he showed. Instead, it was turned to his bad memory or faulty magic.

"So do I, apologies for taking up some of your time." He said. He could've insisted, shared the name he went by nowadays. But it was possible she didn't remember or didn't want to. It wasn't kind to force memories back from the wells in people's minds. They crawled out by themselves often enough as it was. And so he left her to her own devices, and walked into the Leaky Servo.

*****
He didn't hide his surprise when he saw the inside of the Leaky Servo had changed. It was futile, his four ears being too much of a tell when it came to emotions. Someone else was there already, sitting on one of the chairs. The other seats were free, one occupied by someone who could only be a divine creature. Ezrael didn't need his magic to know, her presence was more than enough. Suddenly he felt inadequate and bare, like a child. His attire was casual, barely anything beyond bags with his few belongings and fabrics he fancied. The presence reminded him of his fallen Lord, who was just as godly and commanding. He twitched his nose, scratching one of his back ankles with the other. A quick reverence was all he could manage to do to show respect. He kneeled his front legs, lowering his torso closer to the floor and bowing his head until his antlers touched it. It was a quick, practiced motion and he was back on his hooves right after.

Ezrael approached the chairs, noting how one disappeared. It made him smile, how even though it's guts had been rearranged, the Leaky Servo was the same in essence. He lay down his deer half, the closest to sitting he could get. Never once did he look at Nilin directly, as he thought mortals must be unworthy of even being in her presence like this. Her voice shook him a bit, bringing back memories completely unrelated except for a feeling.

"I am Ezrael Invierno. I want to help as a guard, and the reward offered would be of great help to achieve my life goals." He said, not daring utter a lie or omit a piece of information. Her voice said it all, no games were to be played.
 
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Gunfire.

It was the first sound that registered in Jace's ears once the ringing had started to fade, and the black spots had started to fade from his vision. The press of jagged rubble into his back and the warm trickle of blood down the side of his face slowly began to bring him back to himself, and with a groan of effort he pushed himself upright, his first inhale of breath turning into a spluttering cough as he drew a mouthful of smoke into his lungs. There was a splitting pain in the side of his chest, and the sensation of more blood flowing down beneath his shirt.

"Kyou? Keiji?" Putting his arm over his mouth to try and filter the smoke as best he could, and clasping the other to his side, Jace staggered to his feet. Distantly, he could hear voices yelling over the din of the shootout, and he stumbled in their direction, catching his feet periodically on jutting stone and metal.

His head throbbed, denying his attempts to collect his thoughts enough to remember what had happened.

The smoke seemed to have no end, swirling around to obscure his vision beyond more than a few feet no matter how far he staggered.

"Anybody?!"

There was no reply, but the voices sounded closer now. The shooting was still distant, muffled almost like he was hearing it from underwater. One step at a time, he pulled himself closer to the sounds of those voices. Finally, he saw shapes in the smoke.

Gaia stood straight-backed, as proud as ever despite the streak of blood running down her face, a streak of red on a dark canvas. One arm hung limply at her side. Across from her, another figure stood just as stoic. Another familiar face, but all wrong. Mads held a pistol pointed at Gaia's temple, his expression cold and devoid of the usual tilted smirk that was so characteristic of him.

Jace took a step toward them, but his body felt like a lead weight. Every movement came so slowly, it was beyond agonising.

"Wait," he called out, but his voice seemed to be caught and swallowed by the smoky air. "Mads! What are you doing?!"

He choked again, spluttering into his hand and tripping, falling to the concrete with a hiss of pain. His body wasn't listening to him. He couldn't move. Even the lightning that danced along his fingertips was barely more than a spark.

"We both knew it would come to this, Maddeus." Gaia's voice was calm and even, despite the gun in her face.

Mads didn't reply. His eyes were locked to Gaia's own, his knuckles white on the weapon in his grip.

"It's alright. Do what you have to do. I know the alternative. Phoenix will survive without me." Of all things, Gaia smiled to him. "Better than it would survive without you."

"What are you talking about?!" Jace called out, but like before, his voice was barely audible even to him. "Gaia!"

"I've played my role," Gaia went on. "Now it's time for you to play yours."

Still, Mads said nothing. Jace crawled forwards, dragging himself along the ground. "Don't do this, Mads! I don't know what's going on, but we can figure it out! You don't have to do it!"

"You know it's necessary." When Mads spoke, it was as if Jace wasn't there. His eyes were fixed solely on Gaia.

Gaia nodded. "I know."

"They're not ready." He took a long, slow breath in. "They'll fail without you."

"Not if they have you."

"STOP!" Jace screamed. Why weren't they listening? Why couldn't he move?

Mads let his breath out, his shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry."

He pulled the trigger.

______________________________

Jace awoke in a sweat, shooting upright in his bed with his hand extended out in a vain attempt to reach them. His breathing was short and heavy, and it took a long moment for him to realise that it had only been a dream.

He sagged forwards, dropping his head into his hands and groaning.

Another world away, and he still couldn't escape it.

Knowing better than to try and sleep again after that dream, he swung his legs out from the plain metal bunk and paced across to the room's basin, leaning over to splash water on his face. Leaning against the porcelain, he stared up at his reflection in the mirror, barely visible in the low light that filtered in through the window. His reflection stared back: tired eyes, scarred torso, blonde hair tangled and damp from the night terror. He looked about as bad as he felt.

Stepping out into the hallway of the cramped apartment block, Jace made his way down to the shared bathroom in pursuit of a shower. The water was lukewarm, but at least it helped make him feel a little more human. He tilted his head back, letting the water run over his face and drip through his hair. It traced a path along the curve of the scar down the side of his chest.

As shitty as this place was, it was still an improvement over most places he'd lived back home. So much for living a life of luxury once they finally toppled the Corp and took over the Upper City. He'd just traded one shithole for another.

Except this one came with a whole block-full of responsibilities.

When he emerged back into the hallway with a towel wrapped around his waist, he wasn't alone.

"Dreams again?"

Kai was propped up against the far wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his old hoodie. It was threadbare and ripped in places, but he refused to get rid of it. He refused to let go of a lot of things from back home. By the look of him, he hadn't slept. His cyan eyes were tired where they peered out through a frame of white hair, starting to grow a little too long where he'd been neglecting taking care of it.

Jace nodded. "Yeah. Same old same old. You've been up?"

The younger boy shrugged.

Sighing, Jace gave him a disapproving stare. "You should sleep. You're going to make yourself sick."

"You're one to talk about self-preservation." Kai met his stare with a glare of his own, pulling out a flyer from his pocket and holding it out to him. It was the same one Jace had been staring at for the last week. The promise of unlimited reward, offered from some god-power, all in exchange for an unspecified service.

Jace sighed. "If anything here can find us a way back, an ancient deity-ruler that commands a rift-travelling empire seems pretty high on the list."

"And I told you that if anyone was gonna go, it was gonna be me." Kai folded his arms, his expression a challenge.

"Kai..." Jace ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know back home you were the 'do-anything' guy, but this isn't Meropis anymore. There's no network here - not the kind you know how to navigate, anyway. That AI security system a while back almost killed you."

"That was a fluke," Kai muttered. "I was just unprepared for it. That kind of processing power shouldn't even be possible."

"Yeah, and I bet there's a million other things in this weird-ass city that you're unprepared for and that shouldn't be possible. You don't have the option of just disappearing into the net whenever something goes wrong anymore." Jace gave Kai a serious look. "You're used to being invincible, and that's dangerous when you suddenly aren't."

Kai scowled back at him. "I can handle myself. And the same goes to you! Mystos clearly aren't at the top of the food chain, here. All I need is a decently kitted out drone and I stand just as good of a chance as you in a fight, anyway!"

"Okay," Jace folded his arms. "So where is it?"

"What?"

"Where's your drone?" he waved around at the empty corridor.

Kai just went red, and his glare intensified. "I could-"

"That's what I thought. Look, Kai. I know you want to get back even more than I do, but let me handle this." Jace put a hand on his shoulder. "Being on the front lines has always been my thing. You just stay here and help keep things afloat while I'm gone. Maybe you'll figure out how people navigate these damn portals well enough to get where they want to go while I'm gone anyway. You're the brains, let me be the brawn."

"Uhg, fine." Kai scowled. "But if they don't take you, I'm trying my luck anyway. I'm sick of sitting around."

Jace gave him a nod of concession. "Guess I better make sure I get accepted, then," he murmured.

"Just go put some fucking clothes on, or are you planning on trying to impress the Queen by showing up in your birthday suit?" Kai rolled his eyes.

Smirking at that, Jace shrugged. "What, think it'd work?"

"Go to hell, Parker."

______________________________

Once he was dressed and geared up, Jace made his farewells and left the apartment block. It was a dingy, concrete building: all function and no form, a stark contrast to the gleaming spires and gardens of the rest of Nexus City. It was the asscrack of the hub of realms, where all the poor saps who worked to make things run more smoothly for the wealthy and privileged permanent residents of Wayfarer's Point found an uncomfortable bed and a leaky roof over their heads.

Some things never changed.

At least it was a life they were used to. As Jace emerged out into the street, he passed by several of the others who'd arrived here with him, each of whom gave him a nod of greeting as they got ready for their own days of labor. They were all Dwellers, all used to living on the bottom of society's foot and making do with what they could scrape together. At least here, they could see the sun.

This job was going to change things, one way or another. They would go home, to what he hoped would be a changed Meropis under Phoenix's leadership. Or they would find a new one, here, with a blank paycheck to set all of them up to live like kings. It wasn't as though most of them had much to go back to. He was pretty sure that aside from him and Kai, most of them would rather choose to take the money and stay here. But he'd never been one to bail early on a fight.

People back home needed them. Some more than others.

Out in the street, Jace started to jog, letting himself limber up as he picked up speed. He supposed there was one other positive to this weird city in the middle of - supposedly - everywhere.

He didn't have to hide.

Lightning danced along his limbs, and with a crackle, he leaped forwards. The propulsion of his powers was enough to carry him in an arc up to the nearest rooftop, where his foot barely brushed the concrete before he'd ricocheted off and over to the other side of the street. His body felt light, riding waves of electromagnetism that carried him just shy of flight, but close enough to make him feel freer than he felt at any other time. Running was always what he'd done to blow off steam, when he could get away with it.

Here, he could make the whole damn city his playground and not care who saw.

It felt like all too soon that he was setting down outside the nearest entrance to the Leaky Servo. A few other bystanders gave him a glance as he dropped to the ground from overhead, electricity sparking off of his shoes, but they looked away just as quickly, unphased. Everyone here had their tricks, he'd learned quickly. Assuming somebody wasn't anything more than they appeared to be was a quick shortcut to an ass-kicking, or worse.

Jace stepped through the door and into the short series of hallways that always led to the same set of huge double doors, no matter where you came into the place from. Even just a few months in, the weird geography of this place had started to become just another fact of life to him. The fact that the Leaky Servo seemed to exist in a few dozen places at once had been mind-boggling at first, but it was far from the weirdest thing he'd seen here.

Stepping through those double doors was, however, enough to give him pause.

He'd been expecting a private booth at the bar - maybe a little low-class for a Queen, but who was he to judge? But apparently, today the Leaky Servo had decided it wasn't a bar at all. It was like walking into a Corp Exec's mansion, if they'd turned the entrance lobby into some sort of piece of abstract art. All colours, glass and decorations that he couldn't quite figure out if they were understated or ostentatious. Both, maybe?

Jace suddenly felt underdressed.

Shrugging off the sensation, he paced forwards, eyes skimming over the people who were already present. The first was a figure in some brightly coloured body armor - a girl, by the looks of it - whose gear wouldn't have looked out of place back home. It was somewhat reassuring, seeing someone who looked like they might have a resume that wasn't too dissimilar to his.

And the other was... a centaur? Yeah, a centaur. The guy wasn't the first fantastical creature Jace had seen here, so he managed to only stare for a half-second before his gaze passed from him over to the figures at the far side of the room, on the dais.

The one stood to the side of the throne, he recognised as the AI who tended the bar. If they hadn't been currently standing in what should have been a bar, he'd have wondered what business an AI bartender had playing right-hand-woman to some powerful space queen. As it was, he'd guessed already that this place was a lot more than 'just' a bar. As if the fact that it offered beverages from every corner of the galaxy hadn't been clue enough.

The other figure, the one he could only assume was the Queen herself, looked... younger than he'd expected. But then, she was an alien. She could have been a thousand years old and he'd have no idea. She was beautiful, in an eerie way - her dark eyes felt like they were looking straight through him in the brief moment he met her gaze, on his way to drop into his seat.

Her question came, and he waited his turn while the two to his left spoke. When the Queen's attention landed on him, he half lifted his hand in a wave of greeting, forgoing any of the formality that the others had offered for the same casual respect he'd have offered any employer. This one just happened to be sat on a fancy seat, after all. "I'm Jace. Jace Parker. Here to sign up for whatever job this is, 'cause you seem like my best bet for either getting my people home, or getting them out of the slums. Hope I came to the right place."
 
Kathryne cursed quietly under her breath, just after she assumed Ezrael was out of earshot. The soft words were ones of disbelief, not so much anger, although there were nonetheless hints of irritation in the mix as well. It seemed that recently Fate had decided to mock her. One thing after another, after another, and now this. She balled her fists, finally unfurling her arms from their crossed placement, and followed the cervitaur into the Leaky Servo—or, as she immediately rediscovered after entering, what used to be the familiar bar she frequented so often. Her thoughts had been distracted with the deer-human and she had forgotten the slight detail of the interior's appearance that had caused her to stop in the first place.

Pushing through the crowds of gathered people, beings, AI, and aliens with most of them being mercenaries, some of them clearly poor, and a couple simply wealthy doo-gooders who couldn't pass up the sight of an infinite bounty, Kathryne made her way inside, right up to the front of the court, all the while ignoring each and every one of the strangers that had gathered together for the exact same reason.

As difficult as it would have been to prove, she hadn't decided to enter because of Ezrael. In fact, she was almost like any other person who had come, save the money. To her, a nondescript setting and a sizable bounty usually also meant magic, and if all things went well, it would be her magic. Plus, she was quite bored. There weren't many adventures that had caught her eye recently; she'd come to the bar looking for an one and, well, she'd found it. Besides, the worst they could tell her is "no."

Much to her dismay, however, Fate wasn't finished messing with her. Two of the people sitting before what Kathryne could only assume was a queen—the All-Mother, according to what she'd read on the advertisement—happened to be people she knew. Ezrael, for one, and Circe was the other. Oh, for Thief's sake, this had to be a joke. Kathryne was two seconds away from leaving the room, and, in fact, she had just turned around to do that very thing when suddenly she found herself facing not the crowds of people that had been there a moment prior, but an empty room of odd yet expensive-looking decor and the others that had chosen to sit before the contractor of this mission which not a single one of them had any clue what it was going to be.

Supposedly, the good news was that she had been hired.

Kathryne huffed silently and returned to the seats at the front of the room, taking her place before the All-Mother since she was not about to give up the opportunity that had just been placed in her lap, as much as it grated on her to be working with someone who knew her in the past, of which she had no doubt Ezrael would eventually discover as time went on. She made herself comfortable on the back of the chair, setting her feet where one's butt might have normally been, if only to prove an obscure point of some kind. Horizon, the AI in her head, did not at all appreciate the gesture, especially since he was reverent of the technological strength the All-Mother possessed compared to his measly program. He wanted to make a good first impression, to which Kathryne mentally scoffed and chuckled, making herself more comfortable with the odd choice of seating placement. It wasn't anything personal, to him or the All-Mother.

"Kathryne," she answered the latter, barely catching the tail-end of the question as she'd been shooing Horizon to the back of her mind. Hopefully she hadn't cut anybody off. "I'm here for magic, not money. Don't count me as threat," at which point she glanced at the others—most specifically Circe, since Kathryne was well-acquainted with the mercenary's money-loving ways. "You can keep it."
 
Nilin gazed patiently at each of the applicants as they gave their answers. Her gaze might have been slightly unnerving in it's steadiness, to say nothing of the physiological differences and what instincts they might trigger. In truth however, Nilin's gaze wasn't upon them. At least not physically; that was Xilunexus and her surveillance systems' job. Instead, Nilin's eyes focused down to a single point right at the center of each speaker's head as she suddenly saw beyond the bounds of reality.

She had phrased her question carefully. The engrammatic imprint left as they thought of the concept of their name served as the reference point and "spiritual" identifier, so that she could Judge the answer to their rationale in seeking to enter into a Covenant with her. It was a sort of Divine polygraph, but rather than just seeking objective truth it also allowed her to quantify the depth of their desire and let her visualize with relative ease the degree of effort it would cost her. Her actions carried the capital letters implied in her Godhood, and as she began a sort of pressure would have began to build up within the metaphysical veins threaded through the space they occupied.

By the time Kathryne finished, rounding up the group's responses—the ones that could speak anyways, Nilin thought with a hint of recognition as her gaze landed on Jace and the amulet he wore—even the least mystically attuned among them would feel a mounting feeling of weight descend upon the meeting.

Nilin brought her hands over the table, tenting her fingers together as she closed her eyes. As the pressure in the room reached a crescendo, each applicant found themselves floating amidst an endless void occupied by only their floating bodies. The sound of straining chains echoed softly in the vastness of space as a sudden light flared to life. Nilin's eyes magnified million-fold floated in the empty expanse, illuminated powerfully by a glyph afire above her brow. Waves of infinity emanated from that light, crashing against the receivers psyche.

"Such a curious mix of reticence and eagerness," boomed Nilin's voice from within the depth's of the listener's being. The space between each psychically delivered syllable was a gulf stretching into nothingness. "In case it was not clear, I have already found you acceptable. We are now discussing the terms of the contract so that you can decide if you'll accept."

The void began to flash rapidly. Images coming through faster than a mortal eye could see...except it wasn't with mortal eyes that the applicants were seeing. In this locale outside of time, within a shared space generated from Nilin's divine will mixing with the prayers of the applicants—for what was an appeal for infinite recompense if not a prayer to an infinite being after all—they found themselves enmeshed with the All-Mother's power and strengthened by it. In a flash, true understanding of what it was they desired was accompanied by images of just what that would look like.

"On the subject of price," said Nilin. "Rest assured that I can fulfill my end of the bargain."

In a snap, everyone found themselves back in their places before the dais. The space around them was still a void, although the feeling of pressure was no longer present and everyone was visible to one another again.

"With the terms of remuneration settled," Nilin said, waving Xilunexus forward and taking a stand from her seat. "It's time we explain the task I'd set before you."

"Roughly 6.3 days ago—Leaky Servo Standard Deviation Time—a rift opened within the bar's under-cellar. Almost immediately, a cyber attack against me was launched through in the form of a radio broadcast," explained Xilunexus as she gesticulated at the empty void space.

An image of a desolate desert plain took the place of the empty void. The gathered party found themselves from the vantage point of some celestial observer as the landscape stretched onward as if they were physically there, suspended in the skies. Lightining flashed from the depths of enormous dust storms racing across the plains, briefly illuminating dark shapes within.

"The attacker was...myself. You are staring at a simulated representation of the world beyond the Rift. This is Va'nyria, our home world as the name implies. Or rather, this is what Va'nyria would have been like had certain events in our history played out differently," Xilunexus explained, her tone veiling a barely concealed wince.

"The details of the events are irrelevant," interjected Nilin. "The important fact to know is that this timeline of our world is—for lack of a better word—haunted."

The image of the landscape shifted, zooming in through a gigantic dust storm to reveal an industrial complex within. Several large buildings dotted a vast fenced in compound. A veil of luminous fog partially obscured the grounds of the complex, casting the buildings in foreboding misty shadows. The purpose of the buildings and the assorted large scale machinery was not readily apparent. What was however, was the fact that they were still active.

"Your destination is a decayed world with an unknown number of living creatures you must presume hostile, and with a confirmed sighting of a corrupted AI the likes of which explanation would defy your understanding which also happens to have total access to whatever infrastructure remains," Nilin said, her tone deadpan.

"It is also haunted," Xilunexus added cheerfully.

"It is also haunted," Nilin agreed. "You will likely encounter para-physical entities beyond the Rift. It is vitally important you do not converse with them. Death would be a best case scenario. I do not require your belief, but understand that whatever gods you worship will be unable to reach you there. If you subscribe to faith in an afterlife, you will be putting yourself beyond it's reach by taking this job."

The gravity of her tone was absolute. Philosophical and theological debate aside, they would be entering a place beyond any hope of rescue that wasn't under their own power. The image of the complex of buildings was replaced with what looked like blurry surveillance video taken from a camera at the same level as the subject. It showed what looked like an average empty Nexus City room occupied by an nine feet tall dark figure standing before a shimmering portal.

It appeared to be wearing some form of armored exoskeleton, and several blurry protuberances were likely weapons of some sort although they could not be made out with any level of detail. The video looped, showing the figure lithely move through the rift in space whilst staring back towards the origin of the recording.

"This brings us to your mission. This," Nilin said gesturing towards the image of the figure, suffering discontent dripping in her tone. "Is my husband, Alaxel."

"I apologize for the quality of the image...he hacked my body's video feed as he slipped through the Rift," Xilunexus said sheepishly.

"Your goal, is to find my husband beyond the rift and either convince him to turn around or aid him in whatever insane goal he's taken upon himself to complete. While I would be ecstatic if you could incapacitate him and bring him home, I caution you out of engaging him with extreme emphasis. We...are a very long lived species..." Nilin's voice trailed off.

"Master Alaxel was once our most revered soldier, roughly 10 billion Wayfarer standard years ago," explained Xilunexus.

"He and I are but a handful of our 'elders' who still maintain a cohesive identity," Nilin said somberly. "From what constituted our "prehistory", when sharpened sticks and rock slings were the height of warfare. All the way on through our last war, when our technological prowess extinguished stars at a whim and burned out whole civilizations. He fought through them all."

She paused for a long deliberate moment, staring each of the applicants in the eye in turn.

"He is the very concept of a warrior, brought to stark reality. You must not engage in combat with him, if you are to live and serve me," Nilin said seriously.

"Alaxel's codename when he headed our covert special ops military branch—back when we still had a defined military— was ' Starbreath'," Xilunexus added as the blurry image gave way to a series of short looping silent videos.

They depicted in turns a smiling Va'nyrian man with smouldering eyes of shimmering orange with flecks of black in a group photo surrounded by figures in streamlined lethal looking powered armor. The same man within an arena-like setting gesturing as blasts of light overloaded the recording equipment. And footage after footage of grim death to overwhelming numbers delivered by a placidly calm visage as recorded through the interior camera of the powerful cybernetic armor he piloted.

"He is an accomplished psionic with particular mastery of gravikinesis and pyrokinesis. The name is derived from his ability to combine the two to create and manipulate plasma at energy concentrations impossible through natural stellar formation," explained Xilunexus as weapon schematics and armored diagrams replaced the videos.

"He is also fully geared with several different weapon systems whose activation constitutes a breach of both Va'nyrian war crimes law and also runs afoul of several nascent trade compacts between the main trading associations in Wayfarer's Point," Xilunexus said. "I am not equipped to quantify the level of experience an organic being exposed to as much strife as he has possesses. Over the course of his life he has both studied and founded countless forms of close quarter combat arts, written comprehensive treatises on both tactical and strategic theory, and made extensive study coupled with applied practice in the field of armament engineering—"

"He is my great destroyer...and he is in grave danger," Nilin said sincerely. The surface of reality shimmered briefly, and anyone with a sensitive mind attuned to listen would feel a powerful yet impotent wrath wrapped in a noxious and ineffable feeling. The sound of straining chains tinkled softly again.

"I cannot go get him, for my very presence there would doom us both. None of my people can go in my stead, lest they fall prey to a peril that would consume their very souls. I risk your lives without compunction. You are not "my flock" in both the cultural and spiritual sense, and I am beholden only to my Will. I will however, reward any who manage to survive and return with my husband in tow with whatever they desire," Nilin said as she stepped off the dais, slowly descending upon invisible steps as she approached the four seated applicants.

"If you have any questions on the terms of our Covenant, voice them now. Understand however, that I have a rider to add; the penalty for reneging after accepting is your life," Nilin said as the glyph upon her forehead burst alight. Tendrils of energy extended from her body towards each of the sitting applicants, pausing at arms reach from them. She momentarily looked at the pendant around Jace's neck and felt slightly guilty. Well, Nilin did also broadcast all of the meeting psychically just in case, so at least she'd be mentally prepared for the reality it implied in her special case. Not Nilin's fault that she had allowed herself to be in such an agency-less situation. She recalled a more capable impression of the woman in that brief meeting elsewhere.

"Failing to hold up your end of the bargain in good faith to the best of your abilities will result in instant death on the other end of the rift," Nilin added. "You will bear my mark and accept this burden if you are to be in my employ. No matter what you experience on the other side of this rift, you will not give up on your mission. If you agree to my terms, swear it upon your name."
 
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"So... wait," Kathryne raised her hand, making an effort to interrupt the tension in the air with her words in hope of pulling herself out of the gravity of seriousness that had formed over the conversation. "What you're basically saying is, you want us to go into another dimension and either dissuade or assist this guy that could kill us in a heartbeat, risking our lives for glorious treasure if we manage to survive all the way to the end. Is that correct?"

Horizon was scolding her from the back of her mind. Kathryne simply told him again to hush and work on analyzing the data and footage that had been presented, picking out anything useful rather than worrying about offending the All-Mother. This adventure sounded far too thrilling to back down from, and she was going to need all the information she could get.

"And we're going to pledge our lives to complete this mission...." She gingerly reached out to touch the tendril that had paused in front of her, suddenly curious about its texture. "I, Kathryne Thompson, do so solemnly swear that I'm going to regret this, but I'll do it anyways. Hit me with your best shot."

The decision wasn't exactly a hard one for her. She'd been in plenty of life-threatening situations in the past; what made this one so different? He was an ancient, war-touched soldier with billions of years' worth of skill, cunning, and intelligence as well as a mastery over a couple types of magic. Really, that sounded almost normal to her. What could possibly go wrong?

Part of her was being sarcastic with the question. She was probably going to die—which, in all honesty, was perfectly fine if it meant she wouldn't spend all of eternity regretting it, assuming she understood that part of the briefing correctly. Worst-case scenario, she ended up as a ghost, sentenced to wander through the foreign world and spook travelers, say there ever were any. Best case? She got to pick up a ton of "useful" items and pocket them for later, which certainly sounded like a good enough deal in exchange for her life. More or less.

Wait, this was only a temporary arrangement, right?
She should have asked before agreeing....
Frick.
 
To say that this was a bit more than Jace had been expecting would likely have been the grossest understatement of his lifetime. When he'd walked in here to supposedly have an audience with a "Goddess", he'd been skeptical. People called themselves all kinds of things when they were in positions of power, after all. Whether or not this Nilin was a deity by the classical definition, it was plainly apparent she was in an entirely different category of existence to him the moment she threw them all into the expansive void.

And things just kept getting more mind-boggling from there.

A dimensional rift. A post-apocalyptic wasteland. Fucking ghosts that would apparently kill him if he talked to them?

And, of all things, a corrupt super-AI. As if dealing with one of them hadn't been enough for a lifetime.

He was still trying to process all of that when the Queen and her android companion started listing off the seemingly never-ending list of reasons that attempting to fight her husband would also result in their immediate and grisly deaths, and by the time it was made clear that changing their minds after the fact would result in - surprise surprise - instantaneous death, Jace was starting to have second thoughts.

The shorter girl who had arrived just after him voiced some of his concerns right before he did, only to go on to immediately agree anyway. He pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, like she was saying, just let me make sure I've got this all straight. Our job is to go into this rift, find your star-destroyer husband, and either talk him into coming back, or help him finish whatever he's doing there?"

The young mercenary ran his hand up and over his forehead, lacing his fingers through his hair.

"Not to do the exact opposite of toot my own horn, but if he can do everything you just described... how much help are we gonna be to him? It sounds like he could probably take us apart with one hand behind his back. You make it sound like you're sending a litter of kittens to help escort a tank. Maybe a pack of hunting dogs, if you want to be generous to us."

Jace shook his head. "I hope you'll forgive my cynicism, but when our primary qualifications seem to be "expendable" and "desperate", I've gotta raise some questions. I'm going to assume you see us doing more than stepping on landmines for him?"

The sheer scope of what this Queen could do for him whirled tantalisingly through his mind even as he expressed his doubts. If she and her people were as all-powerful as they seemed, maybe they could do one better than find him a way home. Maybe they could save the whole of Meropis from their fate of drifting through the stars until the colony-ship's life support failed.

That reward only mattered if he thought there was a chance he'd survive. Even if it was slim, he'd take it, but he wasn't here to sign up for a suicide mission.
 
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The way the All-Mother described her husband reminded her of stories that Blue would tell her when she would finally get a spark from something of her past. She’d say “I remember when the Sylmar System was destroyed.” Circe would stare at her, bewildered. “That was thousands of years ago,” she said. “Yeah,” Blue mumbled, sounding exhausted all of a sudden, amber eyes somewhere far away. “I know.” And that was that.

Moments like that happened over, and over again, and Circe would hold her in her arms until she felt better. It was as interesting as it was sad to realize all of the memories that came up were usually of her in the middle of a new battle somewhere. Blue often said she thought this was the most peaceful she had ever felt. Sometimes Circe wondered how she could know that with so many missing memories, but all she had to do was remember what the cyborg had been made for; warfare. Still, Circe imagined he was far older than even Blue.

But what did she want? And was she willing to pay the price?

Even if they knew her name in the streets, her friends barely even knew who she was. Blue is the first to come so close in so long. She laughed but felt unhappy. Her vaults were full, but she felt empty. They had to keep surviving, so she kept on pirating, with the burden of Captain on her shoulders. The stress made her sick and it felt like she hadn’t slept in 20 years. Didn’t know where she was going, and couldn’t even remember where she had come from….

...Circe was raised by the Colony, stranded on an alien planet. They made a life for themselves, but they could never leave the ship, for they were unwelcome. She often wondered when her human ancestors had left Terra behind if that was the life they had wanted. Since she was little she wanted to be a soldier. She never made it, so she learned to use her head. She grew up with an alien child. Her name was Xali. She had wild black hair and cunning eyes.

They often left the Colony to explore together without permission, riding hoverbikes through the mud with a plastic cup in the motor to sound like the old motor of a car from the old world. Xali found hoverbikes primitive, but funny. She liked her laugh. They’d throw rocks and steal a couple of gadgets to break into them. They were just kids. They were inseparable, and no one could stop them. Until her family killed her for becoming friends with a human child. Her happiness shattered, the lights turned off, and the children of the Colony were never allowed to play outside again.

Still, she tried. Circe tried to become one of them and ended up being kidnapped and stranded multiverses away, with no real way of getting back home. She had tried so many times before without much success and forgot when exactly she had given up, exactly. What good had any of it done her? One thing after another, it was hard not to become tired.

She remembered her father, and how softly and slowly, he would sing to her when she slept. He promised to give them the world, but he was a bird in a cage, and there was only so much he could give. She was the most Xetti out of all her siblings, therefore the most like him. Xetti had a deeper connection to each other than humans did. Linked mentally and emotionally, they spoke rarely, understanding each other with a mere glance or gesture. There was nothing more beautiful than when he would look into her eyes, shining with the early morning light, and she would look into them as if they were the light of the universe.

As a child, she asked him to never leave, to which he replied ever so simply: my love will always be… The moment they thought she was dead, she felt it in her very being. It had broken them. Only she knew there was no other way. She thought about them, night and day. Would they even recognize her, now? After all the terrible things she’d done to survive?

Bounty hunters continued to chase after them. A crew member was killed recently, but they just kept going. But there was no time to mourn, no rest for the wicked. There was almost no one left of the original crew. There was no reason for her there, anymore. She felt alone in the middle of the party, wanted to be where she couldn’t be bothered. Sell the antiques, destroy the hard drive, let go of the ship, say goodbye to the crew. Drop the curtain on “Captain Nightlocke”, disappear from that hell, and vanish with Blue. She didn’t care about the fame, the fortune, the legacy…. Screw the legacy. She just wanted to go home, back to that feeling when she didn’t have to fake it... and watch shooting stars with dad again.

She wanted to be Circe, again.

"You have a deal, lady.... Err...What was it? Oh... Nayleen Gevarnee.... Did I get that right? So sorry I’m.. terrible with names.”
 
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That the entire explanation of what accepting the contract implied was a lot to process was an understatement. However, more than dissuade him from helping this Goddess, every word made him more and more eager to start this new adventure. They were to go into a wronged land, populated by dangers in order to aid a warrior god in his quest. Perhaps this was destiny knocking on his door. He was starting to think of this not as another odd job to accomplish his life goals of serving a worthy lord... but to be that calling. By all means, he intended to succeed. If he did, he could ask to serve them, higher beings from their life experience to the extent of their power. It would be an honour, he couldn't ask for more!. His joy only grew, and he had to cover his mouth to physically stop himself from laughing in mirth. It would be disrespectful to do so, given the seriousness of this mission. The best part for him was that even if he didn't see it through... he would still meet what had been described to him as the very concept of a warrior. He would still be a servant, if from an independant contractor's perspective.

His tail was relaxed, and wagged a bit from side to side. The hand covering his mouth could be mistaken for horror, or surprise. He understood the risks he would be agreeing to face, death. But a death with purpose was better than one in loneliness or senseless. He was aware that he had lost any chance at an afterlife when he failed his previous lord, so that didn't worry him either. Machines were powerful but they didn't scare him, that and now he really wanted to meet Alaxel. There was an opportunity that he could persuade him to share some knowledge. Even a smidge of it would be fantastic. When the tentacle approached them, Ezrael put his hand down and away from his face. With a solemn expression betrayed by a hint of a smile he spoke:

"I swear on my name, to do my very best and never abandon this mission." He listened to the woman he knew he recognised agree before he did, and he listened to the concerns of a nearby young man. If his devotion could falter, he was wise to ask before agreeing to clear any doubt from his mind. They were good questions, too. And it seemed three out of the four of them were in!, this was looking good.
 
As Ezrael, Circe, and Kathryne each swore away their lives to the seemingly foolhardy cause laid out before them, Jace would find his apprehensions further fueled by a stirring of emotion with him. It was a strange sensation that seemed to rise up from within, a momentary flash of disdain and irritation. A sense that this mission... no, this cause, had nothing to do with him, and there was no reason to put his life on the line for it. The feeling was fleeting though and gone as quickly as it had come.
 
As written by Script & Dashmiel


Nilin was not put off by Jace’s misgivings. Nor was she particularly perturbed by the impulsiveness and excitement displayed by Kathryne and Ezra. In the face of those two, Circe’s heartfelt determination in the search for normalcy was probably the one trending as the standard deviation in the group. What brought relief to Nilin was the diversity in their responses. That would serve them well.

The tendrils of energy before the three who had agreed coiled up like mesmerized snakes—the one intended for Kathryne waving in stern admonishment before taking it’s position—and swayed gently before them, as if waiting.

Silence reigned in the expansive void for a moment, each applicant left with their thoughts as they waited to see what would happen next.

Nilin regarded Jace, bringing her gaze out of the godly aether to actually look at him.

If she were to be forced to see things from the other side of the room, she’d have to admit at the validity of his points. Bother. The problem with looking to recruit capable help was that they’d sometimes try to be capable with how they interpreted you.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nilin’s voice was quiet and serene as she spoke. “You display pragmatism in your questioning, a trait I value. ‘Expendable’ is one of the qualities I seek, I’ve made that clear.” Nilin twirled a finger in the air and the space behind her showed a view of the mass of people still waiting their turn to sit before her in the Leaky Servo.

“But ‘desperate’ is not. Plenty of those have seen me today and will continue should you decline my offer,” she pointed out as the image faded back to black. “The other qualifier, child, is ‘capable’. Yes, you will be of aid.”

“Okay, yeah,” Jace gave a slight nod, briefly furrowing his brow at the intrusive thoughts that wormed their way into his head before he shook himself back to his original line of questioning. “I’m not one to sell myself short - I’m good at what I do. Just want to make sure I’m operating in vaguely the same league with the guy I’m supposed to be saving.”

He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Okay. Desolate post-apocalyptic wasteland I can wrap my head around. Super-AI that can take control of every piece of tech in the whole damn playing field is on my resume. Let’s talk ghosts. What exactly is the deal with not talking to them, how does that work?”

“Yes, the ghosts,” Nilin let out a sigh of resignation. Of course he’d ask about the ghosts. “Before we circle back to the ghosts, let me make one thing clear. From the moment all of you took your first moves in Wayfarer’s Point today, we’ve watched you. Extensive background checks were made. There is a reason this bar charges in secrets.”


Nilin tapped a finger against her lips absentmindedly as she deliberated on how much to share. “We of course analyzed the footage and information we had that was shared with you to make the simulation used to brief you,” she said. “Passing the first step to talk to me involved having capabilities that would be useful in some form on the other side. You did see the lightning unnaturally cloaking the dust storms and nothing else, correct?”

She was stalling. How to explain the fucking ghosts?

Jace nodded. “Yeah. Looks like there’s plenty of it for me to work with.” Drawing on existing electrical energy was a damn sight easier than making his own, but Jace had to admit, he’d never dealt with a full-on lightning storm before. The weather - or weather simulations as he now knew them to be - in Meropis had always been on the tamer side.

The stalling didn’t escape his notice, but he held his tongue for the moment - giving his prospective employer the benefit of the doubt that she was building up to a point.

“There is a fish,” Nilin began to say, then paused and frowned. “The ghosts are a...simile of sorts.” She paused and her frown deepened. The silence began to stretch into awkwardness.[/I]
 
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Even if he had wanted to stay quiet, this last reveal was very curious. Ezrael still wouldn't dare look directly at the queen, least he meet her eye. He didn't want to be disrespectful to his, their, employer. However, Jace had been clever to voice his doubts. Perhaps more clever than any of them. It was possible that himself, in his his eagerness to help and serve an entity of extreme power... Had been foolish. This didn't mean he was regretting his actions, but recklessness was unbecoming of him. He'd have to be better in the future. He could start now. His ears had been following the other two people's conversation, twitching every so often.

"If I may ask, with all respect, your highness. Is that a metaphor?" He started, his voice a bit wavy. He feared being considered annoying.

"I can't speak for everyone, but I'm confused... If the ghosts are like fish... This is just a guess. Forgive me if it's wrong, I am not here because of my abilities in translation." He too was stalling, struggling to put his thoughts into words.

"Where I come from, there were naiads in the rivers and lakes. If you tried to fish, as many humans did, they would grab the rod and pull you under. Unless you entertained them in some way. You were very lucky if you made it back. Are those ghosts like naiads, and is giving them attention like trying to fish?." He stopped there, unsure if he had made things clearer or more complex. He silently prayed he didn't embarrass himself in front of this goddess.
 
By Dashmiel & N0X

Nilin’s vague knowing was infuriating in a way that made her feel stranded and hopelessly out of context, but what else could be expected of a seemingly timeless being? She was almost tempted to tap into her boundless mind that was surely filled with immense comprehension, but she was terrified of accidentally frying her own brain by doing so. The Empress might just decide to strip Circe of the golden ticket that she had just so graciously bestowed upon her.

Now that she knew what she was getting herself into, it was time to think about how she would accomplish the mission. What was her place? How did she fit?

Xetti were spiritual people by default. Their psychic intuition allowed them to have a deep connection to the netherworld. Not only did Seekers deal with human conflicts, but they also often dealt with spiritual battles. It had been too long since she had done anything of the sort.

Circe was not too fond of the word ghost, preferring to call them spirits, a most basic form of life beyond the shackles of the words "good" and "evil”, existing in countless forms and being capable of mimicking things from the natural world such as plants, diseases, and even fish. They were an imprint of something that was once alive. Having left something behind, they remained. They wouldn’t rest until whatever was keeping them there was resolved.

Circe thought about those words. Did the Empress mean to say the ghosts were like fish out of water? And if the fish were out of water, was she saying they did not belong?

The landscape that was shown did appear to be haunted. Haunted places tended to be responsible for a spirit’s unhappy past experience. Circe received strong emotions of the past as it played—remorse, fear, terror, violence. Did their mission have something to do with putting something to rest? Could it be that the King was trying to right a terrible wrong from his past? What did this place mean to him? Surely the Empress must know…

Ghosts interacted solely through energy. It was likely that they would not be able to do anything against them by physical means. Circe sighed. This meant that her guns and martial prowess would be useless against the creatures they would face there. Jace was likely to be the most effective against them, being a powerful force of nature himself. As for herself, she feared the worst…

All Xetti were tested for their spiritual prowess. Part of the Xetti trials involved delving into ancient Catacombs. Most people thought being lost meant going to a party in a less familiar neighborhood and feeling uncertain about the strangers around you. When she was a child, her father had told her stories of venturing too deep into the catacombs and never returning. She was the one who would demand scary stories and would get so annoyed when her sisters started crying.

It was trickier than simply paying attention to where you were going. Circe tried arranging pebbles on the ground to mark where she’d been, but never ran into any. Time? There was no such thing down there. She had drunk all the water and ate all the bread, and the lantern burned low. The air was so thin, she was terrified to breathe. Suddenly, she felt something strange. The chill of eyes on the back of her neck. But that can’t be, she was so very much alone… right?

Shivering, Circe pushed it away before she could even think about the rest of that memory. Who really wanted to think about that one time they were almost killed by a demon?

"I don't buy it. I think you know exactly what he's doing there. I mean, he's your husband, right? You gotta know everything there is to know about him. Haven't y'all been together, what, like a bajillion years? There's something you aren't telling us."


Nilin’s frown reached the nadir of it’s descent down her features. She calmly listened to Ezrael’s meandering thought process right next to the mark of the matter, a million curses rushing through her head in as many languages. As a testament to both her and her kind, she also carefully watched Circe’s internal struggle. That was where her true attention laid, while she handed off the job of constructing a response to one of her personality constructs.

She really shouldn’t have decided to try to put Xilunexus’ idea of wishful-thinking into practice today. It really didn’t help in job interviews. Still, she was unlikely to get a group as evenly matched as this. Was it really that much of a problem for her to be a bit more forthcoming?

So they made a mistake and doomed an entire universe to a fate worse than death in the pursuit of power. Not like they were the only ones. Not to mention that technically, that was other versions of them.

You’re certain you can’t retrieve my memories? ◄ Nilin asked of Xilunexus through her Va’nyr link. Her response was the summary of the AI’s 6x1012th attempt and counting, along with a copy of her frustration accompanying an error code when trying to access her main core.

Nilin sighed audibly as her thoughts finished just ahead of the shift in Circe’s aura that indicated she was about to speak. She managed to predict the content of her question and only missed one turn of phrase. Maybe her future-sight wasn’t broken after all?

►That would be self-delusion, mistress,◄ Xilunexus sent.

That was a metaphor and you are very close to the mark,” Nilin said to Ezrael before turning to face Circe. Her eyebrows rose slightly before she replied.

A few bajillion years, at least,she said with an exasperated tone. She sighed once again before nodding to herself. Well, her personality construct did anyways. Nilin’s real self was busy trying to piece together what it could.

I suppose that simply asking you to ignore and avoid the ghosts is asking too much. It’s what I get for not hiring the first group of idiots that answered my call,Nilin said with a ‘tching’ sound and snap of her fingers. Her personality construct was perhaps overcompensating and reading too much into what would seem personable to this group.

She took a deep breath (more audible than it needed to be) and began to explain.

“Yes, I am not being completely forthcoming, and these aren’t just ghosts,” she explained.

“These are spirits—or subatomic impressions of a pattern equaling consciousness—that have been...co-opted by parasitic intra-versal entities whose definition of 3D space happens to coincide with ours, to our great detriment. We, that version of ‘we’ in the rift world at least, unleashed them during an experiment 10 billion years ago, in which we had to cut through the fabric of reality. Unfortunately, key memories of our version of that event appear to have gone...missing.”

A cold dread crept down her spine. This was a being that had billions of years worth of power and knowledge. How could she speak so casually about missing pieces to the puzzle? Circe didn’t know why she thought it would be easy to get real answers from the detached Empress. Her first approach to talk to her like everyone else wasn’t working. But she couldn’t try the other approach.

Circe knew how to fight against people. She knew how to look for weaknesses and exploit them. It went without saying in her line of work. But she imagined trying to press Nilin for information would be much like wrestling with a stubborn bull. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it would be all too easy. Nilin seemed to be a mere shadow of her former self.

The more she studied the Empress, the less intimidated she became. Nilin was powerful, but she was not some miraculous all-knowing Goddess. Circe could feel Nilin searching her, and she didn’t want her to see what was in there, but it was all coming too fast for her to hide. She doubted she could. Realization. Bewilderment. The King had taken that missing puzzle piece. He didn’t want them to know, to be followed… this really was a suicide mission.

But then she thought about the life they could have if they pulled it off.

They needed those memories.

“Empress... Nilim,” she said, “I’m not a….computing machine. I... can’t hack anyone’s memories.” Not like Blue could. “But I can do something else that’s just as useful.” Something she hadn’t done in a long, long time. If there was anything real about the Empress, she might be able to see Nilin’s memories as if they were her own. She hated how the words came out small and weak. Circe tried to put what it was that she could do into words, but her tongue was frozen. She remembered the feeling of a cold floor of a cell and the sounds of rattling chains, and what that meant, and couldn’t bring herself to look Nilin in the eye.

Nilin’s personality constructs ground to a halt. This decision exceeded their operating parameters. The lapse in the switchover as the prompting from her false persona pinged away until Xilunexus stepped in to snap Nilin into reality was a gulf of time for them, but would have barely been perceptible to the assembled crowd.

The change however, was stark. Gesticulating as she spoke and facial expressions for their benefit fell by the wayside again. The feeling of pressure began to mount again in the chamber, the soft rattling of chains playing out just at the threshold of hearing. Nilin knew it would be cruel; she knew those weren’t just metaphorical chains and their effect on Circe was just an unhappy coincidence.

Still...they were expendable, weren’t they? There was something...Alaxel could purge all of the archives if he wanted, but he couldn’t affect those echoes…

“Child,” said Nilin in a hundred voices. “I know what you mean. Know how you Seek...” The glyph upon Nilin’s forehead flared to brilliant life as the psionic command reverberated through the gaps between space.

Open," Nilin thought as the rattling of chains turned to the screech of metal under stress. It had been eons since she had last relaxed the bindings upon her soul. The masterwork upon her forehead sometimes did it’s job too well; As Nilin gazed inwards into the prison, an empty eye socket stared back. She felt a pang of guilt, but continued nonetheless. Circe was not equipped with the level of understanding to truly consent into what she thought she was...but Mother did not care. Moral constructs really weren’t a thing in some non-existent places.

“If you dare, help me seek some of the answer I’ve hidden within myself, from myself. I will try to keep you alive in the process,” she cautioned seriously.

The sudden change in the room and demeanor was no doubt confusing to everyone else, to say nothing of whatever the All-Mother was talking about with Circe. But Nilin knew that Circe would get the subtext. She waited patiently, a yawning void within her soul actively waiting for Circe’s decision to pierce the thin veneer keeping her separate from a descent into infinity.

Nilin’s voice vibrated into her being, she felt it in her bones. Her chest ached and swelled. It was like she had been waiting her whole life for this one moment. Circe would be fine. She couldn’t imagine dying. The only thing she imagined was her friends and family simply going on without her… growing older… eventually forgetting.

“Blue,” Circe said.
“Yes?” she said slowly.
“I’m not going to die,” Circe said. “Do you know why?”
“Why?” Her voice was quiet.
“Because I refuse,” she said.
Nothing was going to kill her. She wouldn’t let it.
Circe took a deep breath, looks into Nilin’s black eyes, and nodded.

The glyph upon Nilin’s forehead managed to somehow flash even brighter for a moment before it went out. To Jace, Ezrael, and Kathryne it looked for all of the worlds like Nilin and Circe were having a staring contest. Circe however, was careening through the spiritual highway well above the speed limit.

Her awareness was shifted, stretched, and forced to fit around ideas that mortalkind could not conceptualize properly. She existed through all of the moments of her life simultaneously, experiencing each one forever, trapped in an interminable eternity. She was supposed to delve into Nilin’s soul, but the moment she attempted that something else stepped forward. It fed on her memories and emotions, but there simply wasn’t enough Circe to merit a snack.

As Nilin kept a detached metaphorical watch, she hoped Circe would be able to pay attention. Nilin felt herself—or the creature that was part of herself, the line was not clear—digging into her memories, looking for patterns to use against Circe. Except they were linked at the moment, so digging into Circe’s head also meant digging into Nilin’s head. Somewhere in the psychic assault that was about to unfold, would be an answer.

Circe would be forced to perceive the world shift around her, memories no longer strictly true. But plausible. Oh so plausible. There was no denying that this is how things could have been...or maybe how they were. They happened to someone, that was clear. Was Circe sure of who she was?

She existed forever in a cold dank cell surrounded by death. She perpetually experienced the first frightful imaginative insight into how the trials would be on the first scary story she received from her father. Saw her failure. Saw the costs it took her family to live with the shame. She was stuck reliving the moment she knew she was looking at her father for the last time….

The world around Circe turned into a landscape beyond comprehension, and before her stood an enormous figure. It was ever shifting, slowly coming into clearer focus, and a resounding scream within Circe’s soul that was also Nilin’s cried warning advised her to quickly finish her search before she could discern the creature. In that last instant that was also forever, just as Circe was able to make out an empty eye socket—with an eye that she just knew spun madly somewhere seeking her and would one day find her—flashed an answer.

Back in the Leaky Servo, Circe’s form suddenly disappeared with a pop. Before anyone could react, the air exploded in a loud boom as Xilunexus launched herself at Nilin. After grabbing her by the throat they both vanished, leaving a no doubt bewildered trio behind.

The confusion would thankfully only last a moment as a flustered Circe reappeared, followed by Xilunexus.

“The All-Mother is currently indisposed,” the AI said cheerfully. “To summarize, the “ghosts” are entities out to eat you, which is no different than the killer AI robots and mutated wildlife we’re likely to encounter. I will be accompanying you, and should be able to fashion protective equipment on site…” Xilunexus paused while staring at their expressions.

“If anyone has any other questions, please feel free to ask. I will answer to the best of my ability. Otherwise…,” she pointed to the still present oath-binding “tentacles” and the one that still awaited Jace’s response.
 
Whatever passed between Circe and Nilin, the minutia of it escaped Jace's understanding. He was familiar with the idea of telepathy and mental manipulation - Linkers and Coercers, as they were known back home - but he got the distinct impression that this went beyond it. He was still mulling over what Ezra had mentioned about the "fish", and the fact that these 'spirits' acted akin to lures, when he sensed the atmosphere in the room shift.

The pressure was as uncomfortable as before - moreso - and he found himself tightening his grip on the seat's arms.

But as quickly as it had begun, it passed, and abruptly Nilin was gone.

"...yeah, I have a question," he managed after a moment. "What the fuck just happened?"
 
The smile that adorned Ezrael's face once he learned he had been relatively right in his attempt at explaining the ghosts was short lived. He had gazed curiously at the two figures who looked into each other's eyes with such truth. It was unsettling. What followed, a loud boom along with a sudden disappearance, made him instinctively bounce backward. His ears stood on edge and so did his fluffy tail. He was standing, a good amount of meters away now, his hands raised. Should it be necessary he could summon a weapon. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth hung open in confusion and surprise. Then more things happened, Circe and Xilunexus were back. Jace spoke, voicing what was without a doubt in everyone's minds.

"Perhaps they can explain, I would be grateful for it after that scare." He said with a sigh. He lowered his hands and relaxed his stance. Ezrael moved forward, closer to Circe and Xilunexus.

"Are you alright?" He asked Circe, tilting his head. It wasn't polite to assume another needed comfort in this world, but it was the first thing that came to mind. She had just... Disappeared, so he looked her over in case she was injured, keeping his distance.

Then, to Xilunexus. "Will Her Highness be alright?"
 
Xilunexus tilted her head to the side as the considered Jace. "Mistress Nilin and Captain Nightlocke attempted a risky psionic melding. It's been my experience that you simply can not have two people who can poke into each other heads in the same room without their eventual doing so," she said matter of factly.

"Honestly, you should pay more attention when it comes to contract precedings," she added dryly before turning her attention to Ezrael. "In this case, the event resulted in a feedback loop that cast Captain Nightlocke into a sort of limbo momentarily, and would have resulted in all of your immediate deaths in a few more moments. I had to assist the All-Mother to her chambers and sever the physical connection. She will be fine after she...composes herself. Whether or not they were sucessful in their "discussion", I leave to Captain Nightlocke to share," she paused as she looked at Circe.

"Though perhaps a moment to regain her composure is in order. Any other questions?" she asked in a pleasant tone.
 
Kathryne could no longer hide the sadistic yet amused smile that had crept up over her lips, revealing a few white teeth, and all she had done for the past several minutes was watch, save a bit of earlier movement when she'd set one knee over her other and leaned back slightly, arms folded, then more recently she'd uncrossed her legs and set an elbow on her knee so her chin would have a palm to rest on as she watched. She didn't have to say anything at all to be amused by the happenings. Already, so many interesting things had occurred, and it had barely been twenty minutes—she assumed, twenty minutes; her sense of time was a little off—since all of this had begun.

She raised a hand briefly to get Xilunexus' attention, once again straightening herself. "I'm assuming this room goes back to being a bar after we leave. But since you're kinda a part of all this stuff we're all about to do, can I use any of it as a tidbit to get in next time I come around? Or does it not count because you know it already? I've never really been able to figure that part out about this place."

Most of her just wanted to change the subject. No, it wasn't because she felt bad and wanted to shift attention away from the queenie who'd gone and meddled with Circe, but because she wanted a drink like she'd come for to begin with, and all these questions about ghosts weren't helping her achieve that. The quicker they could start, the faster she was sure she'd be back. Kathryne didn't fear dying in the slightest. If she did, she'd be more cautious, and that wouldn't get her anywhere when it came to thieving magic.

So, back to the irrelevant question.
 
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His skin was as dark as the night sky, his hair was the color of the silvery moon. His smiling eyes were as dark as the void but sparkled like dancing stars. He looked at her with pride. This was the longest he had ever held her in his arms. This was her first pilgrimage. The first half-human Xetti to become one of them. He was nearly blind to the tension slowly building up in the air around the crowd of locals that had gathered, but not mother. Mother’s eyes were sharp and full of worry for her youngest. But behind the worry, there was also hope. Circe carried her father’s pride and her mother’s hope on her shoulders on her journey, which would quickly come to an untimely end.
***

“They can’t do this to me,” she said to the darkness, her only companion...

The silence of the cell settled like a thick blanket. If only she had one, now. Circe shivered as she was on the freezing stone, unable to remember how long it had been since she’d arrived. Her arms were chained over her head, secured around the bars. The memory of why she was there was far, far out of reach by then.

But the silence didn’t last. It cut through the darkness suddenly, rattling her to the bone. Sometimes there was deep, ragged breathing. Someone else’s chain scraping against the bars. Sometimes, a broken sob. Sometimes, a whisper. A name. A reminder. She was supposed to be doing something. But what? Someone needed her. She needed them. But who? Her legs grew stiff.

Circe tried to get a grip on the lock of her cell door, but her fingers were frozen numb.

“I have a gift for you. Well, two gifts.”

The Warlord came to give her an update on her own fake funeral arrangements. She cried out, but they couldn’t hear. Why couldn’t father hear? They were connected. The Warlord said something about how the walls were made, like the helmet he wore to protect him from something, but she missed what; her head was too busy spinning and she didn’t understand why this was happening. Circe wanted to wipe that stupid, condescending smile off his face. He held something in his hands. A round blade with teeth. It spun to life.

Alone again, she reached up to her bleeding forehead, feeling for something that was supposed to be there, but they were still gone, having been cleanly sawed off, a little too close to her scalp. The message was clear: you are not one of us. You will never be one of us. She just wanted to be out of there. She wanted to be clean and warm and sipping sugary coffee with… with…?

“They can’t do this to me,” she said to the darkness, her only companion. A chain clinks. Shallow breathing. A broken sob. A whisper. Wake up, little bird….“They can’t do this to me,” she cried….

Circe closed her eyes and counted her breaths. One breath, two breath, three breath, three-hundred, and sixty-four breath….Wake up, little bird… wake up... There was that clinking noise, but here, not there. Somebody is undoing her chains. The cell door creaks open. The Warlord was there again. He cradled her in his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” She croaked.
“You’ll see.” He spoke with malice that sent a chill down her spine.
“NO!” She threw herself out of them and hit the stone floor hard. He lunged at her, trying to grab her back. When he grabbed her, Circe grabbed his hand and bit down, tasting blood with a satisfying crunch, then kicked him in the groin. He doubled over, screaming, and she ran, but not after she snatched the keys from his belt. And punching him in the face. It hurt her hand.

Circe was breathing hard, and the key trembled in her grip. She knew what had happened--what was supposed to have happened. But no, not this time. He wouldn’t get her this time! Circe willed her hands to steady and slipped out the door and into what was supposed to have been the black night.

***

It was as if she had slipped into a different reality altogether.

A colossal figure walked across the landscape. Circe sluggishly slumped over on the grass. The dark cell was fading from her awareness. It seemed like so very long ago now. Circe instantly recalled that she was supposed to be finding something. The missing piece. A wayward memory. A familiar howl echoed throughout the backdrop. A warning to get out. But it was so hard to focus with blood in her eyes.

How long had she been staring at the creature? It seemed like an eternity. Circe strained to concentrate, driving past fatigue. It was an agonizingly slow effort, and she was spreading herself dangerously thin trying… Then, all too fast, she had it. The answer. Just like that! Overwhelmed with relief, Circe tried to pull back... but she was stuck.

Circe tried to get out. It felt like the tide of the ocean with each mental contraction. There was a rolling pain radiating through her temple. She would get a few moments of relief and then, another push and pull. It was exhausting to not have more rest — it was like the longest marathon. There was no other option. She wanted it all to just stop and this was the way to make that happen… Circe pulled with everything she had left, screeching like a banshee on her way out.

***

Circe was back at the Leaky Servo, having collapsed to her knees when she had popped back into existence...grateful that they couldn’t see how she was blinking tears from her eyes that just wouldn’t stop coming. She was different, that much was for certain. The way that she held herself was a lot less self-assured. A lot less Captain Nightlocke, a lot more… well, she didn’t really know who she was, anymore. What she did know was that she had been successful. The memory of Nilin, Alaxel, and somebody else, having an interesting conversation about the events that had taken place there. It all seemed so unimportant to her, now....

“Are you okay?” A voice shook her out of her stupor. Circe realized that she had been laughing. “What?” It was a cervitaur. She vaguely remembered him from long ago… or was that now? “I…will have to be.” Circe concluded. They still had so much left to do, didn’t they? Circe noticed just then that Nilin was gone. Did that mean she had time for a nap?
 
Jace just stared at the android for a long moment, contemplating just how someone created an AI with sass. And why, for that matter.

Eventually, he sighed. "Forgive me for not being attuned to the same psychic wavelengths as the other half of the room," he responded dryly. "I have the lowly brain of a regular human. Whatever. I'm just going to go over things as I understand them, and you tell me if I've gotten things about right."

Pinching the bridge of his nose and looking down at his lap, Jace ran through everything that had been said so far in an attempt to parse it in a way he could wrap his head around. "Our mission is to head in there, go to this facility, find her husband, and help him with whatever he's doing in there. We don't know what that is, but you're confident our skills are sufficient to help him out. The things between us and him, and presumably between him and his objective, are a combination of an apocalypse's worth of environmental hazards and mutated animals, a rogue AI that can get into everything from the local vending machines to military gunships to cause us problems, and psychic manifestations of people that are some sort of lure for horrible monsters that will come and eat us if we interact with them in any way."

He looked up at Xilunexus with a raised eyebrow. "That about sum it up? Or have I missed a detail somewhere in the mix?"
 
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