+Concave,
Allow me to elaborate on the current situation as clearly as I can.
I have no idea what the fuck is happening.
I say again, idea-no-the-fuck-what.
Strike Cell Flameater is decimated. Their bodies are mind-dead through their proxies, and honestly, there’s nothing left of them. I can’t even classify them as nulled because there’s nothing left of their cognition. No fragments, no drifting artifacts, or leaking emotions.
Even the mem-data is gone.
All we have are Shard-2, who isn’t coherent enough to form words yet, and Talon-6, who is still hiding in a corner somewhere screaming threats at the extraction team because “he can’t let the fire touch him.”
What am certain about is this:
* Shard-1 and Shard-2 engaged an adversary capable of jacking and sequencing at extreme speed. Speed almost certainly enhanced by the metaphysical nature of a canon.
* They likely left fragments of mem-data within Shard-1 to lure our strike team into a trap, allowing them to bypass multiple compromised Exorcists and surveillance constructs before launching their ambush from an Auto-Seance session installed in the administrative Oversec-C1’s primary superstructure.
* This coincides with the decimation of Elder D’Rongo’s shadow detail as well.
Putting what few pieces we have together, I think we’re staring down the barrel of something neither of us wants to face, but have to. It’s clear that whoever we’re facing has in-depth knowledge of our operational capacity and is actively hunting Incubi.
We both know there aren’t that many Ad-Necs capable of doing this. The first, and the uglier possibility, is that we’re dealing with a Silver-on-Silver power play. Likely something to remove D’Rongo from the board. The second, more unsetting scenario, is that we’re throwing lives at the Low Masters again. Less worrying since we managed to burn that infestation before, but we’re not in any shape to trade the lives of our best if the Golds are raring to start the Fifth big one.
The last, least likely, but most troubling, is that we’re facing some kind of lone actor. A rogue Fallwalker master necro of some kind that’s butchering us for purpose or pleasure. I doubt this to be the case, but if it is, we need to resolve them quick. The last thing we need is another dive-psycho without a cause tearing through our ranks without rhyme or reason.
I’m going to need to make an emergency request to private the mind of a category zero asset soon.
Our Incubi aren’t going to be enough for this. We need a heavy. We need to bring in a ‘Clad of our own.
Get someone we can trust.+
-Emergency request from Convex to Concave
13-18
Confess
“You know, Naeko, I… uh, I really respect this about you.”
Chief Samir Naeko would never know how much effort it took on the part of Maru Sandrupal to force those words out. But Trainee Kare Kitzuhada did. She could see it in the web of veins bulging against the right side of her mentor's head, in twitches of his optical implants running like a ring along the back of his skull.
Maru Sandrupal cut a skeletal, vascular figure outside his combat skin, and even the grey and black Paladin uniform lined and dotted in hexagonal synth cells couldn’t hide that tautness pulling at the veins running along his neck, or how every tendon in his face was drawn back like bowstrings on the cusp of snapping.
As the chief sat across from them and gorged himself on multiple orders of “Flappy-and-Largies” pancakes at Swanney’s Sweet-Things, Paladin Sandrupal’s metallic braids swayed back and forth as if the tail of the scorpion, his mind screaming as he struggled not stab his superior.
+You’re doing great, sir,+ Kare said, shooting a soft smile at the side of his face. One of the eyes installed on the side of his head winked at her in thanks for her support.
If she was to be honest though, she really couldn’t tell what worth she was in this situation. She was a Soulless trainee trying to stop a Fifth Sphere Paladin from trying to kill his Eighth Sphere superior in public.
Still, she wanted to serve with distinction, and sometimes that meant pulling your assigned mentor off the leader of your entire outfit when the punches started flying and the curses began to flow.
Of course, Chief Naeko didn’t help with this at all. To this day, Kare wasn’t sure if he was actually clueless about his behavior, or if he did it just to see if he could kill Paladin Sandrupal through elevated blood pressure alone.
“Huh?” the chief said, his words muffled by a mouthful of pancake. At this pre-dawn hour, few were awake in the Undercroft aside from the sleepless, the desperate, and the dubious. Light splashed over his face from the outside as a series of racing aeros screamed past. Empty hover couches lined the inside of the diner in rows, and black and white scenes of classical Voidwatch provided entertainment media played from coldtech projectors hanging below the ceiling.
He didn’t even bother looking at either of them while he continued playing Stormjumpers, his phantoms casting a live interface that displayed what looked like an Omnitech server district under siege. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
Sandrupal clenched his fists so hard his joints rattled in succession. “I said… I… I’m just saying that I admire you for your composure considering that we’re about to get our asses fucked apart by the Golds and Silvers both. You know, because you arrested Abrel Greatling and a godsdamned elder. What part of us not touching Guild shit did you forget, Naeko, because you skipped past the Mid-Guilders and struck your fingers straight in their fucking eye sockets.”
+Too much anger, sir. Try to hold it back a bit more.+
+And you can go fu–sorry, rook. But this sad piece of shit needs to take things serious for once. I don’t care he doesn’t want the job, we’re getting cut down because of his fuckery.+
+It’s alright, sir.+
Of course, her mediation was for naught as Chief Naeko leaned back in his hover chair and snorted a loud laugh.
+I’m gonna fuck this man’s corpse with a goddamn sword and see if he births daggers from his Rash-pores–+
+Sir!+
+...I fucking hate him so godsdamned much right now.+
Naeko swallowed and swiped the menu of his game aside. “Well. I’m glad,” he reached across the table and placed a hand on Sandrupal’s shoulder, causing all the implanted eyes dotting the latter’s skull to swivel over and glare at the offending limb, “that you finally learned to like me.”
And instead of taking his hand back, Naeko just left it there.
Sandrupal exhaled. “I’m being glib, chief. What the shit-fuck did you get us into? Our field guys are already seeing signs of a quiet war being spun up. Godsdamned… weird phenomenon happening to us. Imps getting emptied out of our accounts. Trainees turning up dead or nulled. We’re–you understand you basically signed us up for everything except open warfare, right?”
Naeko gave him a curt nod. “D’Rongo had Dawton killed. Abrel Greatling might be tied up in that mess. Her father too. Now, I didn’t get us into this fight. I justh–just threw a punch back after they started hurting us.”
And just like that, the bulk of Sandrupal’s anger went out like a candle. “And when were you going to tell me this? Never mind, fuck that, how’d you find out?”
“The usual source.”
“Her? She… you know she’s a voider plant, right? You know she’s playing us to her own ends, right?”
The chief just shrugged and sighed. “Welcome to New Vultun, consang. But the thing is–and that’s just the thing–she don’t lie to us much. She’s been good to us and right every time. Without her, that… that crazy Fallwalker guy–what’s his name?”
“Freylain,” Kare answered.
Utility fog spilled out from Naeko and formed a pair of snapping fingers. “That’s the one,” Naeko said. “Good job, trainee. Too lazy to ask my ghosts.”
“Understandable, sir.” It really wasn’t.
Naeko continued. “Well, that silly fool would’ve kept trigging the rash in the Warrens. Look, I know it’s ugly. But it’s always been this way. It’s been like this all the way since Tanhower was chief.”
A practiced moment of silence settled between the two men.
“Speaking of which,” Naeko said, letting out a breath, “when this is done, you can bring up a vote of no confidence and finally sack me for getting us–”
“Samir,” Sandrupal interrupted. “There is no life, no reality, no time or history or canon or chronology in which I like you enough to see you truly happy, and to see someone else suffering the hell is that being Chief of the Paladins.”
“Well, that’s just hurtful,” Naeko said, his face settling into a soft frown.
Kare found it odd how reluctant the chief was with using his Heaven, and how anger never seemed to find any purchase in him.
“Yeah. It’s probably good this way. It keeps the Ori and Kosgans staring at me while you guys keep the city safe. I’m no good at all that running the department stuff, or leading, or speeches, or bookkeeping, or administrative work, or making tea.”
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“You’re also bad at showing up to work on time, bad at talking to the proparazzi, bad at setting a good example for our trainees, and bad at this bullshit game you spend all your time playing,” Sandrupal seethed.
Only the last point offended Naeko. “It’s not bullshit. Lots of people worked thousands of hours for this. You see this scene. All that is simulated from–” An emergency alert dissolved the window of his cog-game. Frowning at the inopportune disruption, Naeko’s eyes flashed as settled back into his chair. “Hang on, I gonna have to take… this…”
Kare felt her hairs begin to stand. She had always been good at reading expressions on people, and the one that adorned the chief right now was far from anything good. With how his eyes were darting about, something was wrong, something severe enough to force some semblance of professionalism into Samir Naeko.
“What?” Paladin Sandrupal said, equally unnerved by Naeko’s behavior. “What?”
“Well,” Naeko said, licking away a spot of syrup staining his front teeth, “Oversec-C1 is burning.”
It took a second for the information to fully sink in for Sandrupal. “I’m sorry, what do you mean it’s burning? How the hell does a Nether lobby burn?”
Naeko offered a shy smirk and distracted him with something else to be angry about. “Abrel Greatling is also gone–”
Sandrupal tore the table aside and promptly dislocated all his fingers punching his boss in the face.
***
The sequences comprising the lobby didn’t burn so much as they became Avo himself, and the influx of ghosts and information flooding his mind broadened his awareness instead of choking him.
He was becoming more without any need for digestion.
Something about that offended the beast that he still was deep down inside, but he was too distracted by the legion of mental templates populating his Metamind.
[Summation: Over fifteen mind templates achieved. Incorporating best habits and structures into ego. Sequencing efficiency estimated to increase by 11.34%. Added 344 combat-variable traumas to Ghostjack. Ghosts have been increased to 233, and component memories–]
He cut off the useless narration of his submind as he just let the details flow into him. He wasn’t interfacing with the Nether so much anymore as he was a living part of it. The Metamind and him were now conjoined inexorably on some level, each part spilling over into each.
It was with this newfound integration that he began wielding it in the same fashion he did the Woundshaper.
Here, however, he cultivated pseudo-minds from the branches of his flaming memories instead of blood-born constructs. Approximately twenty percent of the administrative node had been subsumed by him, leaving only the greater lobby beyond and the small clearing left for the Low Masters’ Auto-Seance at his core.
There was a pleasure in amassing weight in both cognition and thaumaturgy. Usefulness as well.
Fusing over three thousand Whispers into shape from the myriad ghosts gathered within his form, everything within his vicinity was caged in a panopticon of perception.
[Sequencing complete.]
[Feels strange. Just growing structures into place. Miss sequencing. This feels too easy. Weightless.]
[Convenient though.]
[Yes. Convenient.]
[More constructs. More watchtowers. Exorcists still don’t seem aware.]
He guessed that was the Low Masters doing. That facade was probably fated for a loss, however.
With how much he had eaten away from the lobby’s internal structure, his presence was about as circumspect as Voidwatch was if they desired to glass part of Idheim.
In this came the first and most major downside of his new form: the lack of silence.
He couldn’t stop burning; he couldn’t hide within the confines of another sequence due to the ever-replicative nature of his ghosts; seeing as he was the flame itself, there was also the question of what might happen to him if a Thoughtwave Disruptor impacted him.
[Death.]
[Nulled.]
[Like a candle: Snuffed.]
Glad to see his other selves were such open rays of sunshine.
Regardless, this development was to be a gradual education. For now, a key impediment was eating one of the Low Masters without getting surprised by any of their other hidden tricks. As far as he could tell, they were still inside the Auto-Seance’s half-crumbled session staring out at him like soldiers manning the battlements against a patient wildfire.
They hadn’t offered a reply to his offer for them to surrender themselves to him.
Just as he had no interest in swearing his fate to the Hungers, he doubted they would grant him succor using the flesh of their egos either, but they were clearly compelled to scheme and hold the position in the hopes of getting at the Helix back from him.
Something that would become infinitely harder if he or they just jacked out and went off-grid.
This was to his advantage: now, the worst possibility was getting nulled. Aside from that, he doubted they could dive into his mind without being dissolved entirely. That sent a shiver of excitement through him. Sometimes, the fire cut one way, other times it hewed the other.
He had less to lose than they. By exercising his patience–
[Base-mind. Should know that Draus is currently aiming a gun at our head. Kae’s begging for her to wait. Their argument won’t last. Might be getting shot soon.]
A note of annoyance sounded from all his ghosts as the various people he absorbed groaned within him like a concert. [Doing what we told her to do if we got nulled.]
[Yes. Still would be good if she knew though.]
That made Avo consider burning the knowledge directly into her mind–but he paused.
Could he even do that without compromising her cognition? And even if the answer was yes, would she be willing to accept his intrusion into her inner palace as he was right now? No. She cared for that. Injecting his knowledge into her directly would damage her trust in him irrevocably.
Some part of him… felt bad about that. Felt bad in a way that ached.
In a way that was all too human in some parochial facet.
It seemed with the additional structures he grew within himself, true empathy was extending its roots into him as well.
Interesting.
Still. That was a slight impediment to his plans. He could adjust.
He cast the details through Chambers instead, uncaring if the man would be rendered ego-dead by the act. Per his thoughts followed the agreement of his subminds. At once they constructed an Auto-Seance and activated the session he had connected to Chambers. Pouring his ghosts across, he tried to restrain the damage he would cause, but with each sequence he brushed, the structures collapsed and filled his Metamind.
Chambers shuddered almost immediately, mind-dead as Avo’s totality swept out from his epicenter like a wildfire.
Unfortunate. And very impractical. This meant he wouldn’t be able to interface with the others on a deeper level until he learned to subjugate his new capabilities or install protections.
For now, he directed his subminds to speak on his behalf, filling Chambers’ vegetative corpse with his ghosts to deliver the message.
He had other things to focus on right then.
Namely, the single bridge of memories extending out from the inside of the Auto-Seance.
A single accretion came drifting across the pathway, simulation active and running, the simplicity of its make taunting Avo. It seemed a wick, ready for the burning, and part of him wanted to take it into himself as well.
But in deeper than the depths of minds came two voices joined in a rare instance of agreement.
“Caution, master-er–masters—master.” Even the Woundshaper was taken about how to address his current state. “That structure is not of your making. An unstable foundation can be ensured through incompetence or deliberate malice.”
“If you embark on such a journey, understand you are at the mercy of unknown winds,” the Galeslither added. “It would be wiser for us to leave, but since I am forced to dwell and view the world from the eyes of a slavering fool, then I say it is best for you to keep to a corner, and leave little room to be struck down.”
[Wise. Take advice.]
[Counterpoint: Hungry. Want to break. Want to null. Want to hurt.]
His mind was awash with warring voices, but at the same time, an impossible placidity emanated from his core. Annoyance dissolved at his will. As did agitation or frustration.
Such was another fascinating benefit to his change–the immediate attuning of emotions by command of thoughts or desires.
He was, in some sense, a mind capable of self-induced feedback, self-induced propulsion.
Tentatively, he approached the lone priest by extending memory tendrils of his own. Three simulated sequences formed tracks of memory, and from their tips did he cast his perception at the lone foe that dared face him.
Within the contrasting sequence, the Famine of Emotion stood alone at the edge of his path, the world around him mem-data beside a bridge made from bone.
A beat passed. Silence was the greater gulf between them than the separation of memories. Both had much to say, yet apprehension about how they should speak.
Ultimately, Avo erred on the side of aggression, prepared to fire his reflexes anew and tear into his foe to indulge in further expansion.
+I should thank you,+ he said. +For the war-mind. For what you did to me. Made me greater than I ever could do to myself.+
Emotion didn’t react to that, but their reply told Avo all he wanted to know. +That was not our intention.+
+I guessed. Do you remember the war-mind? The living absence in the Nether? The one that makes us all blend.+
+No. Such a thing should be impossible. Until you.+
+Until me.+
Another pause followed.
+We will not stray from the promise as Defiance had. Such is our creed.+ Emotion had more to say after. +But we can be joined against common enemies. Ori-Thaum. Highflame. The Guilds. Between our understanding and your new… attributes, we can–+
+No we. Never we. Just you and your false-god.+ Avo studied the paltry little mind facing him without fear. Again, the power dynamic shifted, and the ghoul felt as if a god staring down at an ant. What did the little Low Master know that made him so stalwart? The promise of understanding made Avo want to burn brighter.
+Without your Helix, we will not be able to access the sanctuary. We will not be able to create more of your kind to offset the pain of the Hungers. We will not be able to see Noloth rightfully restored.+
+These are your final words to persuade? Desperation.+
+Clarity,+ Emotion replied. +You have not seen the fullness of our ability. As have we underestimated you. But you are right. Our needs are urgent. We cannot dally for long. To this end, we promise this: if we cannot be of alignment, then know that we will dedicate ourselves to the pursuit and unmaking of you and all you encounter.+
Avo taunted the Low Masters with a sneering laugh. +And how will you do that if I set all of the Nether on fire?+
There came no hesitation in Emotion’s following words. +You are not beyond our ability to snuff, even now. But we will learn from you. We will understand you. And we will replicate that which you have inflicted on yourself.+
Wisping incandescence crept closer to Emotion in the Nether. The priest quavered nor shook.
+Could take you now. Drink you away. Make you a part of me.+
+You could,+ Emotion admitted. +But you are uncertain as to the risks of my subsumption. You remember the war-mind, and you wonder if we have others. Or I can trigger one right now.+