One day earlier

I prod the skin around the repaired eye gingerly, feeling about for any lingering damage or scar tissue. Not being able to just look at myself in a mirror is one hell of an inconvenience. Still, there's no damage, at least nothing I can actually feel from my tactile sense. And the eye works normally as well. Nothing freaky or unusual about it. I give a sigh of relief as the banks of monitors in the Sarcophagus's control room cycle through camera footage, system diagnostics and wire frame images of The City. Lying unattended on a mattress is the dozing figure of Alley, sedated by The Voice until we are ready to move her back up to the surface.

The Voice had gone silent for the past few hours, scanning the data coming in from the Sarcophagus's systems. For what purpose, I was not able to discern, but it clearly did not want to be disturbed. But from what I can see from the monitors, nothing particularly unusual has happened in The City. The system diagnostics don't display any error messages either. Its really just another day of what passes as normal in this world.

The Voice gave me control over one monitor at the control station for my own personal use. After plenty of fiddling about, I finally managed to get the monitor to display the broadcast of some local TV station. Except there was nothing interesting on, just some boring ass travel program about the sights and sounds of Tokyo III. Apparently it had been rebuilt after several nukes were dropped on it when a pack of giant monsters fielded by the Host decided to invade. Attractions include a giant underground bunker that could house the entire city and something called an Intercept System, whatever that is.

But I was not zoning out in front of the TV. While the presenter was droning on about Tokyo III being able to jump in and out of the ground like a jack in the box, I had found a legit source of entertainment. Alley.

You see, in her comatose state, Alley had reverted to her natural appearance. A saggy, wrinkly, overweight woman. With a surprisingly jiggly body. Out of boredom, I had begun to prod Alley's body to try provoking a reaction out of her. And that was when I realized that Alley could quiver like a mountain of jelly. I made a game out of it, where I would begin stacking the miscellaneous bric brac scattered around the control room into a tower on top of Alley's gut. Then I would begin prodding her to start the jiggling. The challenge of course, would be to see how high I could build my little tower of garbage before it all comes tumbling down.

The problem is, this game had gotten boring as well. There's only so much jiggling I can take. With a grumble I turn back to the TV just in time for a new program to start. A comedy skit show from the looks of it. A pair of elderly men walk up on to the stage, one with a goatee while the other scratches his rotund belly.

"Now showing, Tom and Ted reading classified transcripts." the announcer says. Huh. Classified shit huh? Might be interesting.

"Redacted, I love you so much." the goatee guy, Tom says.

"Is it alright for us to keep doing it in this forest? I don't want to get you even more dirty." his partner Ted fires back.

"Redacted, I want it. I want your redacted inside of me again."

"Unh, unh, ah, ah." Wow, that's a really deadpan voice Ted has.

"Redacted, unh, ahn, what about your Uncle?"

"I don't care about what he thinks. I only want you, redacted. Aah. Aah." Ted grunts awkwardly into the mike, "You're alright with redacted being involved as well right? Aaaah."

"I don't care about redacted. Or even redacted. I just want your redacted. Every drop of it. Nnnh."

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"Ah. Ah. Ah."

"Nng. Harder. Harder. Unh."

"Ah. Ah. AAAAHHHH." Ted opens his mouth wide like he's seeing the dentist, his deadpan voice never wavering. This shit is absolute gold.

"Redacted, its so big." Tom drones, sounding utterly bored, "I can't take it all."

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Feels. So. Good."

"No. Its too big. Take it out. Take it out."

"AAAAAWWWWWRRRR." Ted makes a noise that is a cross between a lion's roar and screeching tires.

"I am being split in two. It hurts. It hurts." Tom says, biting down on his knuckles. Is this for real? Are they reading from a legit transcript?

"TAKE IT OUT." Tom suddenly shouts at the top of his voice, taking me by surprise. Silence descends on the stage.

"And that concludes Tom and Ted reading classified transcripts." the announcer declares, to the audience's applause as the screen fades to black. What in the world did I just watch? Was that meant to be what passes for ero in this dimension?

I feel distinctly not aroused.

"Transmigrator." The Voice cuts in.

"Wait, let me guess." I quickly interrupt, "My intervention is required? Problem with the Hero's love life? Incompatible socket sizes?"

"If you are done being snide," The Voice huffs, "We have a serious problem on our hands."

"I'll say." I smirk, "Taking it out goes against the very spirit of this quest, doesn't it?"

"Do you think I would allow that trash to be screened on television, damaging the Hero's reputation further?" The Voice scowls.

"No? Don't tell me you want me to go beat up the performers or something like that." I raise an inquisitive eyebrow, "That's surprisingly petty of you."

"You are missing the point." The Voice rasps, "The program was screening just now because I could not stop it."

What? That's totally out of the blue there.

"I cannot see or interact with anything on the surface." The Voice rumbles, "We have been completely cut off from topside of The City."

"Uh. The monitors are working fine." I point out, "And I see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary going on up there."

"I know." The Voice responds, "I am seeing the exact same thing as you are. Through the monitors. My ability to directly observe The City is lost. As if I have somehow been blinded."

Blinded? Damn it. My fists clench in consternation. While I have been recovering and laying low, our enemies have not been idle.

"Celeste." I grind out between my teeth, "This is her doing. She has managed to spread her influence throughout The City while we have been hiding in the Sarcophagus. The question is, how?"

"I have been trying to answer that question myself." The Voice replies, "That was the reason why I have been using the Sarcophagus's systems to observe the surface. Unfortunately, my search has turned up nothing. Whatever the Servant is doing is probably beyond the ability of mundane surveillance to track."

"But I can see the thread of Fate." I murmur, "Celeste cannot hide herself from my sight."

"Precisely." The Voice confirms, "This is not my preferred course of action, but I need you to sally forth and investigate this anomaly."

"Shouldn't be an issue." I shrug, "Your upgraded trench coat worked exactly as advertised. With the core online, I can handle whatever is thrown at me."

"Stay cautious." The Voice reprimands, "I am unable to provide a briefing on what threats, if any, you will face on the surface. You will be flying completely blind. We will also be cut off from each other once you leave the Sarcophagus."

"Your places of power though, like the SUV and the apartment at the Academy." I muse, "Shouldn't those areas be safe? We can contact each other there right?"

"Yes and no." The Voice hesitates for a moment, "My places of power are indeed safe and you will be able to rest there. However, that does not change the fact that I have been cut off by the servant. I will not be able to spawn equipment for you or repair your body in those places of power as long as this situation lasts."

Making those safe zones almost completely worthless. I suppose sleeping there is an option, but without the opportunity to resupply and repair my body, I would be better off retreating back to the Sarcophagus. That also means I need to really pick my fights carefully. But if my guess is right, there should be a way to get round this limitation.

"I want to try bringing the places of power online first." I say, "Handling the servant without support is just crazy."

"A fair enough point." The Voice rasps, "Remember one thing though, you are known to the servant. If The City has truly fallen to her influence, you will be detected the moment you set foot on the surface."

Yeah. I remember the thrashing red thread trying to close in on me at the hospital when we first encountered each other. Celeste does not actually need to see me to activate her powers. Its as if she has some kind of sixth sense that can track my presence as long as it is within her range.

But then again, I have a partner in crime now, don't I?

"Wake Alley up." I declare clapping my hands together, "Its time to get to work."