[Player Log Start!]
[Log Holder: Asadullah Khan]
[Level: 1, Sub-Level: 4 & 5]
[! Log Translated From Urdu !]
They were running through the buildings of an off-base factory, while Lucky Paine screamed and hacked away at a support beam with a chainsaw she had gotten through unknown means. This girl really needed to work out tension in a non-violent way. But it was helping their goals, so who was he to suggest therapy?
Asadullah put his hands up, pulling out two-inch long claws just in case someone got the drop on him. Terry had disappeared somewhere into the attic of this place, searching for plants. He should catch up to him if he had any way to find him.
Wait. Right. He could Track. How did he forget?
[Applying Tracking…]
Yellow footsteps carpeted the floor. A lot of scent hung in the air. How was he supposed to find Terry through all of this? There was too much data for him to pick out the single strand except…
There! A damp, almost moldy thing. Lined with the sharp tang of human sweat. Once he had isolated the scent, the trail shifted into a more greenish tinge, and he followed.
He found a stairwell with rusty and stained steps, and Terry’s scent had definitely gone up, but at some point, it had turned tail to go back down, heading for the floors below. The footsteps were more widely spaced out, and he might not have a background in forensics, but that meant that Terry had been running, right?
Asadullah cursed, switching into a black-footed cat mid jump as he bolted down the staircase. He should have never let the guy go alone. He was too inexperienced in the wild and unsuited for a fight. Asadullah needed to keep him safe. He couldn’t let him die here. Terry was supposed to save the world, what would he do if he got himself killed-
“You okay? You look kinda freaked out. Aside from all the… adorable meowtastic fluff.” Terry noted, wandering in with his hands in his pockets. He was looking around a hallway with blood splatters that had gotten everywhere. Even on the ceiling. Asadullah pulled himself back into human form, forcing himself not to grab Terry by the shoulders as he looked the boy over.
“Thank fuck, you’re alright.” He sighed, “Why were you running?”
“Oh, some guy caught sight of me and tried to get me.” Terry shook off, “I… might’ve taken care of it.” He pointed behind him to a slumped over man who was pinned to the wall with a spoke fixed into the wall that went straight through his eye. Blood was dripping out, its pitter-patter loud in the quiet. A gun was still clutched in his slackened hand.
Asadullah stared at it, “How in the fuck did that happen?” He asked, hardly daring to believe it.
“It was a mistake!” Terry shot, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
How that could ever happen on accident, Asadullah wasn’t sure, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask, either. Best to just let his story go without questioning too hard.
“Find any plants?” He decided to ask instead.
“Uh, no.” Terry shook his head, “It was empty. Definitely used to keep plants alive.”
“That’s good, though!” He encouraged, “I bet if we find the records office, the files will be there and we can figure out where these guys have sent the plants.”
Terry shook his head, looking mournful, “That’s in the west wing, according to the floor plan I found in the desk on the staff room. Lucky went in that direction.” He added, in case Asadullah didn’t understand the significance of that. Which he hadn’t.
“Damn, that sucks.” He shook his head, “You wanna catch up with Lucky? She should be done about now.” This place wasn’t on their planned route. They had to detour after a couple people had tried to kill them, and their squad fessed up to belonging to this place. So, obviously, she decided to burn the place down.
Given that the place was called ‘Ivy House’, Terry had been willing to go along with it.
Terry’s hands hovered over the outer wall, which had tracks imbedded into the paint, marking out what had used to be ivy plants. From years and years ago. Now, the soil in the flowerbeds weren’t even fertile anymore. Coarse and arid, it was just like the sand outside.
“Come on.” Asadullah murmured, holding out his hand in some form of comfort. Terry looked down at it, blinking for a moment. And then he took Asadullah’s hand, interlacing their fingers together. His fingers were soft, but callused on the tips and the sides, from writing and recent rough use. They both smiled, shy and quiet.
“Okay, everyone run for it!” Lucky called, wrapping her hands around the controls of her chair, “I have destroyed the communications and they are quite upset because of that!”
Asadullah shifted into a cheetah, running into the smoke as bullets zinged past their ears. He knew Terry’s only mode of transport was at the back of Lucky’s chair, but he hoped that they would have a way to make it past without ending up with either of them shot up.
He had no way to check, though. All he could do was duck his head down and run, his only sense of relief was the fact that he could hear the metal creaking of Lucky’s chair continuing to follow him. Then, long after the bullets had stopped, the chair finally creaked to a stop behind him. He froze to a stop so abruptly that he ended up buried waist deep into the sand, now in human form.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Here, lemme help.” Terry whispered, his hands grasping his arms and pulling him up with surprising strength. Of course, he was used to manhandling things. He had been single-handedly dragging all the heavy stock in the grocery store. Why was he surprised by this?
“Thanks.” He whispered, “You think they can catch up with us?”
“No.” Lucky shook her head, “Not unless they got Tracking like us.”
Terry cracked a smile at that, “You’re right, we’ve definitely lost them. Now what?”
“We go straight to the Richardson furnace, obviously!” Lucky rolled her eyes, as if it was a normal conclusion to reach.
“What about my plants?” Terry asked. Asadullah nodded in agreement. They had been going for more than a day, checking the places Lucky suggested, and there was neither leaf nor stem of a plant. Was this punishment for breaking the order in which things were meant to be done? Because Asadullah was starting to consider it.
“Oh, if there’s one place I can confidently say that we will find a plant, the Richardson furnace is there.” Lucky assured them.
“Why would you burn plants in a furnace?” Asadullah asked, “They don’t burn well, unless they’re dried out. That’s stupid.”
“Not inside the furnace. Next to the furnace.” Lucky patiently explained, “There’s a greenhouse in Genevieve Richardson’s estate premises.”
“Ohhhh, alright.” Terry agreed, looking much calmer now, “Let us get to it, then.”
“And you’re sure about this?” Asadullah checked.
Lucky looked at him, clearly testing as to whether he was believing her or not, “Yes, I’m sure about this. I have been to her estate multiple times. Both before and after the smog properly set in. The greenhouse was a source of pride for her.”
“And her estate is… where?” Asadullah pushed, not entirely sure of the course they were taking. As far as he knew, Genevieve Richardson never came out of her tower in the Sanctuary.
“It got transferred to the Sanctuary two months ago.”
Of course it fucking did. Why was he even surprised?
“Alright, how are we getting up there?” Terry asked, cracking his knuckles, “Verity said it was a giant, grimly ironic glass tree housing the upper crust. Is that true?”
“It’s not a tree!” Lucky snapped, before thinking it over, “Wait… no… Oh Lord, it does.” Great job, Terry, he had given her a crisis. Just what they needed right about now.
“How are we meant to be getting up there?” He repeated, “We absolutely cannot do the elevator like you guys did the first time, so we gotta think of some place. Any expertise on grappling hooks?”
“Lots.” Lucky grinned, pulling out one from her numerous containers, “But you are never going to make it up there with a gun like this.”
“I’m sorry do you have any ideas?” He snapped, tail whipping around in indignation.
“Yes. The flying chair.” She enunciated slowly, as if she thought he had forgotten. Which he might have. She had been using the walking function only ever since he had arrived here, so sue him if it slipped his mind.
“Is that going to support everyone’s weight?” Terry interjected, throwing in his two cents into the problem. And he had a point, because Asadullah distinctly recalled Verity mentioning that the chair had started failing when Lucky had hoisted them above the clouds.
Lucky cringed at the question, and Asadullah immediately knew the answer.
“I’ve boosted up its weight limit for two people.” She defended weakly, “But someone will have to stay behind.”
A tense moment as everyone glanced at each other, sizing up their usefulness and body weight and what they brought to the table. And then, Terry spoke, all soft words and careful consideration, “…Or we could have Asadullah turn into the tiniest cat he can manage, and all go up at the same time.” Oh right! How had he forgotten that was an option? Terry was so smart like that.
“Yeah, that works for me!” He chimed, trying not to think about how long the djinn had been incapable of transforming him after the fight against Roiland and the considerable strain it must be under now.
It was easy to get themselves situated. Easier still to slip into the form of a Singapura. And then, they were flying. Wind-whipping, hair-raising, higher than the smoke that consumed all type of flying. But he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. His mind was still stuck on the future. About the Richardson furnace, and the best way to extinguish it. He needed to make it quick, the less fuss was kicked up, the better. But what if they managed to restart it? He couldn’t have that, either. It needed to be a permanent shutdown.
Except he had no idea what that way might be. He wasn’t an engineer, he was just some mountain guide with supernatural powers. Lucky would have to help, but if she went to help him, then Terry would be left defenseless, and who knew if the guy would get ‘lucky’ again after the head spike thing from yesterday? It was just relying on too many hypotheticals.
Yes, he was aware that his entire life at this point was just relying on hypotheticals because the damn Game didn’t come with an instruction manual, but he wasn’t going to make it worse on himself than it already was.
“Look alive, lads.” Lucky said aloud, breaking through the frantic thoughts chasing their own tails in his head to instead point him in the direction of the sky in front of them.
It was a giant wall of glass, their reflection bouncing off it to wink back at them, curved and distorted. Seeing past it and into the world inside was difficult but upon careful observation, he managed it. And it wasn’t just a wall. It rose up through the heavens, curving around with a grace he would not have expected from such a nefarious piece of architecture. But it was as Verity had described. A dome of glass, with buildings inside that could have been works of art. He could feel his breath leaving him, and not because of the high altitude.
“There aren’t any access doors built into the glass.” Lucky warned them, “They didn’t think to build any because flight is considered a fantasy here.”
“And the heated water chutes throwing giant cargo around underground was normal?” Terry asked, more confused than anything.
“At least it was more physically possible.” Lucky replied with a shrug, “Now, as I was saying, this lack of access doors means that we’re going to have to make our own.” The chair landed onto the curve of the glass like a delicate mosquito.
And then, like a mosquito, the sharpest of the arms jammed inside. The entire chair vibrated as they activated their buzzsaw feature, cleanly carving out a circle in the glass. Once it cut the whole way through, it fell down, seven pounds of tempered glass hurtling more than a hundred meters down. Maybe it wouldn’t hit anyone?
Never mind, there was a scream. Sorry, Wilhelm.
The chair flew in, making a beeline for a small balcony built into the spire that could work as a landing pad for them. Once on ground, Asadullah hopped off, blinking back into his regular body. Staying as a tiny cat for a prolonged period of time always felt like being squeezed into a tiny tube.
“Alright, boys.” Lucky announced, massaging the knee Asadullah had been perched on for a very long time, “Asadullah, the furnace is upstairs. Terry, the greenhouse is down. Everyone split up and be ready to leave in half an hour.”
They nodded and separated.
[Player Log End!]
[Burks Has Received A Private Message!]
[“Theyre coming ur way B”]
[How wonderful.]
[I will be sure to set out a welcome mat.]