The city I once knew is teetering on the edge of destruction. The blocks are on fire and the darkness is full of eyes.
Saturday, 18 April 2020
Friday, 10 April 2020
Sunday, 5 April 2020
Notable Group #13 Overview
Notable Group #13
Aliases: Kobbers, the Clique, Upstairs, Star Folk
Threat Level: Universally Inimical
Overview
The Kobbers are a vigilante group of Metahumans. Although their make-up and nature has altered throughout the years, the group contains several repeating traits that define them as a whole;
Notable Individuals
A sampling of individuals classed as Widely Inimical and above are listed below.
Handling
Remote observation is underway. Members of NG #13 are not to be made aware of the Federal Bureau of the Impossible under any circumstances. Any attempt to make contact will result in the offender undergoing complete wash-out from the organisation. Any attempt made by members of NG #13 to investigate or contact the FBoI is to be rebuffed with no limits, including lethal, memetic, paracausal and/or pataphysical methods.
Any Items related to NG #13 are to be immediately contained under the strictest measures until classification and full analysis is complete.
No aggression is to be enacted upon members of NG #13, except under Directive Bronco.
Research on methods to introduce to NG #13 to other Groups of Interest, including #06 "The Church of Mary Mallon", #01 "The Majestic Twelve", and NG #12 "The 80Scape" in an attempt to cause elimination of one or both parties is being considered.
Aliases: Kobbers, the Clique, Upstairs, Star Folk
Threat Level: Universally Inimical
Overview
The Kobbers are a vigilante group of Metahumans. Although their make-up and nature has altered throughout the years, the group contains several repeating traits that define them as a whole;
- Almost all individuals within the group are either metahuman to some degree, or partially or entirely non-human.
- The group regularly seeks out and does battles with various threats to the communities they interact with, regardless of the threat level of whatever foe they encounter.
- A bi-yearly pattern of migration to new locations.
- A general love of alcohol, blood sports and other debaucheries.
- The ZFS King of Beasts, a star cruiser owned by a shell corporation of NG #05.
- The "King of Beasts" bar in Las Vegas, Nevada.
- Kuwahawi, an anomalous island chain in the South Pacifc (See Item #60)
Notable Individuals
A sampling of individuals classed as Widely Inimical and above are listed below.
- Dawn Cosineau - artificial metahuman created by Sine Cosine. Appearances are brief and her current location is unknown. Appears to be interested in human interaction and psychology.
- "Giselle" - metahuman. Appears as a tall woman with the ability to teleport, cause rapid degradation of matter and to breathe fire. Currently a member of the Crimson Fist, a socialist/anarchist street gang operating in the undercity of the Olympia project.
- Vent Cosineau - artificial "reploid" and adopted son of Dawn Cosineau. Operates as a member of NG #14 under the aliases "Kamen Rider Build" and "Kamen Rider 01".
- Jumpropeman - spectral being with multiple para-causal abilities, including time manipulation.
- Item #54 - a mansion occupied by multiple metahumans known as "yokai". Also houses Person of Interest #098, "Scarlett," an artificial being of immense power.
- The ZFPD - a private police force of multiple metahumans and non-humans,including Persons of Interest #102 "Blasto", #103 "Niftu" and #104 "Caprice Nisei".
- NG #18 "The Planeswardens", a group of para-causal metahumans that handle threats of a similar nature.
- Mariya Sato - [INFORMATION REDACTED BY THE PATAPHYSICAL DEPARTMENT. DO NOT PROCEED].
Handling
Remote observation is underway. Members of NG #13 are not to be made aware of the Federal Bureau of the Impossible under any circumstances. Any attempt to make contact will result in the offender undergoing complete wash-out from the organisation. Any attempt made by members of NG #13 to investigate or contact the FBoI is to be rebuffed with no limits, including lethal, memetic, paracausal and/or pataphysical methods.
Any Items related to NG #13 are to be immediately contained under the strictest measures until classification and full analysis is complete.
No aggression is to be enacted upon members of NG #13, except under Directive Bronco.
Research on methods to introduce to NG #13 to other Groups of Interest, including #06 "The Church of Mary Mallon", #01 "The Majestic Twelve", and NG #12 "The 80Scape" in an attempt to cause elimination of one or both parties is being considered.
Friday, 3 April 2020
A Leaked Document
Item #052
Object Type: Living, Loci, Spatial
Threat Level: Massively Inimical
Containment Procedure
Task Force Delta-7-Sigma ("Cape Cutters") and Bravo-9-Alpha ("Chain-breakers") are to be deployed permanently to the city of Olympia. They are not to engage in hostilities unless Directive Bronco is initiated. They are not to engage with the Item or any people associating with the item, and are to observe remotely.
Due to the Midwich Valley Incident, all agents in the assigned task forces are required to regularly take Yomi-level anti-memetics. Dosages are to be prescribed by task force doctors on an individual basis.
Links with Noteable Group(s) #13 "The Kobbers", NG #14 "Kamen Riders", and NG #19 "The Church of Variola Memera" are being investigated by ATLAS.
Physical Description
Item #052 is a small store that trades in comic books, hobby supplies, animated movies and electronic entertainment. The store has had multiple monikers (see note 1) during its operating period. No Employer Identification Numbers or trademarks have been filed for any of the names the store or owner trades under. The store is solely operated by one Vincent Simmons (age 26, Caucasian, born July 8th in -----, Nevada), who appears to live in the store and has no registered home address.
The store is regularly perused by both civilians and by members of NG #13. Vincent Simmons has been filed as a member of both NG #13 and NG #14.
Effects and Abilities
Item #052 shows multiple confirmed anomalous properties, including but not limited to;
Vincent Simmons has access to a Transformation Device, marking him as a member of NG #14. He operates as a vigilante under the name "Kamen Rider Ex-Aid", and is currently hosting an informal class teaching other metahumans and members of NG #13 vigilante tactics and martial arts. This has placed him on watch-lists within the intelligence community as a possible militia ringleader.
Item History:
Item #052 was reported in Las Vegas in 2016, and has been sighted in close proximity to NG #13 and GOI #14 multiple times over the past four years. This includes the island of Kuwahawi and the Outer City of of the Olympia Project. The latter is believed to be linked to the creation of NG #19.
Notes:
1. List of trading names includes "Manga Carta", "Beach Episode" and "Sky High Comics".
Object Type: Living, Loci, Spatial
Threat Level: Massively Inimical
Containment Procedure
Task Force Delta-7-Sigma ("Cape Cutters") and Bravo-9-Alpha ("Chain-breakers") are to be deployed permanently to the city of Olympia. They are not to engage in hostilities unless Directive Bronco is initiated. They are not to engage with the Item or any people associating with the item, and are to observe remotely.
Due to the Midwich Valley Incident, all agents in the assigned task forces are required to regularly take Yomi-level anti-memetics. Dosages are to be prescribed by task force doctors on an individual basis.
Links with Noteable Group(s) #13 "The Kobbers", NG #14 "Kamen Riders", and NG #19 "The Church of Variola Memera" are being investigated by ATLAS.
Physical Description
Item #052 is a small store that trades in comic books, hobby supplies, animated movies and electronic entertainment. The store has had multiple monikers (see note 1) during its operating period. No Employer Identification Numbers or trademarks have been filed for any of the names the store or owner trades under. The store is solely operated by one Vincent Simmons (age 26, Caucasian, born July 8th in -----, Nevada), who appears to live in the store and has no registered home address.
The store is regularly perused by both civilians and by members of NG #13. Vincent Simmons has been filed as a member of both NG #13 and NG #14.
Effects and Abilities
Item #052 shows multiple confirmed anomalous properties, including but not limited to;
- The ability to relocate, via an unknown method, to any convenient location.
- A defiance of regular spatial properties - the store can have much larger internal dimensions than is feasible for the space it occupies.
- Sale of multiple anomalous goods and services, many of which depict persons associated with NG #13 and NG #14. These goods are branded by trademarks and companies not registered in the United States or anywhere else in the world. A sample list of anomalous items is being filed for seizure and classification.
- Price tags and signage being written in a hieroglyphs or symbols not found in antiquity or current writing systems.
- Apparent telepathic communications with an outside being.
- Animation of inanimate objects, particularly the goods sold by the store. This may range from precise animation of a figurine, to sudden movement of larger items.
- Forced, immediate relocation or teleportation of people and items.
Vincent Simmons has access to a Transformation Device, marking him as a member of NG #14. He operates as a vigilante under the name "Kamen Rider Ex-Aid", and is currently hosting an informal class teaching other metahumans and members of NG #13 vigilante tactics and martial arts. This has placed him on watch-lists within the intelligence community as a possible militia ringleader.
Item History:
Item #052 was reported in Las Vegas in 2016, and has been sighted in close proximity to NG #13 and GOI #14 multiple times over the past four years. This includes the island of Kuwahawi and the Outer City of of the Olympia Project. The latter is believed to be linked to the creation of NG #19.
Notes:
1. List of trading names includes "Manga Carta", "Beach Episode" and "Sky High Comics".
Sunday, 1 March 2020
A Noble Quest!
The grand parade moved through the pillars of stone that made up the strange lands in this kingdom. A quest was underway! Their lands had to be defended, and who else could personally right the wrongs of man but the wise Duke himself? And so it was that he gathered his best and set out to see the state of his new lands.
Ahead, as always, rode his trusty herald, clad in iron and bearing a trumpet. With each blow of the horn, a sonorous cry rang from the buildings, and between each blow he would cry -
The three gangers froze, spray cans held in their hands like warding symbols.
"The fuck was that?"
"I dunno, dude, I only came down here to tag the place -"
Ahead of the pack were the hounds, a finer pair never seen by the likes of man. With jet black coats and keen eyes, they would sniff out wrongdoers! Keeping them under control was the gentle lady Valreek, a lowly hunter that the Duke had brought into his court (the tale was a good one, but too long to tell here!). She would be responsible for gathering food on their long journey, for there was game in these forests and they had brought wine aplenty.
Of course, no good would go to waste with the Duke's own cook, a butcher from the town whom had impressed his Lordship with a trick involving pies. And Talon, the master of hawks, was there too - overeager as always to prove his worth. As they rode, he pointed and cried out -
"I thought you said the gargoyle lady didn't hang around here?"
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't make noises like that."
"How the fuck do you know?"
"Alright, fuck this shit. Lets get out of here."
The young men dropped their cans and ran, following their path back through the maze of alleys in the dense residential areas of the Undercity. They were in areas close to the Green Hell Zone. Most of the buildings and homes laid empty, since people did not like the idea of living near something with that name, but some enterprising souls had found that, with preparation, a lot could be done with the spaces that people didn't want. The destruction of the Curse had helped in that regard.
The three had taken what they had hoped were anti-radiation tablets. They were starting to wish they had taken other things. Like firepower. Or their boss. She'd have known what to do. They'd heard the stories, of how she -
"The fuck?" The cry came from up ahead under the leathery sound of something flapping, and a chitter.
"It's the gargoyle lady!"
"No it's not!"
"The fuck was it?"
The flutter and chitter again, like a sniggering child. They couldn't stop to find out. They had taken the last turn, and ahead was the street and their car -
"My duke! Behold! Some villain most foul hath besmirched the lands!"
Indeed it was so! Foul symbols, insults to the Duke and supplications to dark gods, were daubed on the side of the peasants huts. A clear symbol of this place being infested by traitors to the dark gods. And look! They ran now, almost skeletal with tattered rags, hissing as they went!
"I shall smite them, mine liege!" This was the cry of noble Gristlewel, a knight of true loyalty! He leapt forward, brandishing his greatsword -
Crack. The man at the rear went down with a cry. The other two got to the car. One of them was stupid enough to look back.
It had been a man, but it was clad in long, greasy hair and rags. Chains hung from its green-grey, clammy skin. It carried an oversize bone in both hands, brandishing it like a sword, standing over their fallen friend. Blood caked the end of the weapon. It hissed and gibbered, white eyes glaring.
"Avoi, thou crimināl!"
"Get in the car!"
The one who had looked back couldn't move. There were more shapes back in there, back in the alley. Lanky, gangly, low to the ground. He saw a flash of wings. And at the rear, light glinted off of metal.
"Fie to thee!"
The Duke's voice rang through the town square.
"Fie to thee, thou villaine! Get thee from this place hence, or suffer doom at my hand!"
It was screaming at him. He felt a hand yank him back into the car, felt the rumble of the engine, the scream of tires.
The pale eyes followed him.
Curses! A foul spell, a trick typical of the minions of Chaos. They had summoned a great beast to sweep them away.
"The hounds may pursue them, my lord Crakmarrow," came Valreek's soft tones.
"Nay." The Duke raised a hand. "The ruffians have learnt their lesson. They will not return to this place. You have done well, Gristlewel."
"Thank you, my lord."
Their grunts echoed in the alley over the still body.
"My lord!" The butcher approached the fallen form, surprise on his features. "The criminal! He has... Food on him! He must have been stealing from the peasants here..."
Crakmarrow's brow furrowed. Food? Did that make sense? Why would the ruffian have...?
He felt hungry...
The alley grew quiet as the figures looked at the body.
An hour later, there was only bones.
Ahead, as always, rode his trusty herald, clad in iron and bearing a trumpet. With each blow of the horn, a sonorous cry rang from the buildings, and between each blow he would cry -
The three gangers froze, spray cans held in their hands like warding symbols.
"The fuck was that?"
"I dunno, dude, I only came down here to tag the place -"
Ahead of the pack were the hounds, a finer pair never seen by the likes of man. With jet black coats and keen eyes, they would sniff out wrongdoers! Keeping them under control was the gentle lady Valreek, a lowly hunter that the Duke had brought into his court (the tale was a good one, but too long to tell here!). She would be responsible for gathering food on their long journey, for there was game in these forests and they had brought wine aplenty.
Of course, no good would go to waste with the Duke's own cook, a butcher from the town whom had impressed his Lordship with a trick involving pies. And Talon, the master of hawks, was there too - overeager as always to prove his worth. As they rode, he pointed and cried out -
"I thought you said the gargoyle lady didn't hang around here?"
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't make noises like that."
"How the fuck do you know?"
"Alright, fuck this shit. Lets get out of here."
The young men dropped their cans and ran, following their path back through the maze of alleys in the dense residential areas of the Undercity. They were in areas close to the Green Hell Zone. Most of the buildings and homes laid empty, since people did not like the idea of living near something with that name, but some enterprising souls had found that, with preparation, a lot could be done with the spaces that people didn't want. The destruction of the Curse had helped in that regard.
The three had taken what they had hoped were anti-radiation tablets. They were starting to wish they had taken other things. Like firepower. Or their boss. She'd have known what to do. They'd heard the stories, of how she -
"The fuck?" The cry came from up ahead under the leathery sound of something flapping, and a chitter.
"It's the gargoyle lady!"
"No it's not!"
"The fuck was it?"
The flutter and chitter again, like a sniggering child. They couldn't stop to find out. They had taken the last turn, and ahead was the street and their car -
"My duke! Behold! Some villain most foul hath besmirched the lands!"
Indeed it was so! Foul symbols, insults to the Duke and supplications to dark gods, were daubed on the side of the peasants huts. A clear symbol of this place being infested by traitors to the dark gods. And look! They ran now, almost skeletal with tattered rags, hissing as they went!
"I shall smite them, mine liege!" This was the cry of noble Gristlewel, a knight of true loyalty! He leapt forward, brandishing his greatsword -
Crack. The man at the rear went down with a cry. The other two got to the car. One of them was stupid enough to look back.
It had been a man, but it was clad in long, greasy hair and rags. Chains hung from its green-grey, clammy skin. It carried an oversize bone in both hands, brandishing it like a sword, standing over their fallen friend. Blood caked the end of the weapon. It hissed and gibbered, white eyes glaring.
"Avoi, thou crimināl!"
"Get in the car!"
The one who had looked back couldn't move. There were more shapes back in there, back in the alley. Lanky, gangly, low to the ground. He saw a flash of wings. And at the rear, light glinted off of metal.
"Fie to thee!"
The Duke's voice rang through the town square.
"Fie to thee, thou villaine! Get thee from this place hence, or suffer doom at my hand!"
It was screaming at him. He felt a hand yank him back into the car, felt the rumble of the engine, the scream of tires.
The pale eyes followed him.
Curses! A foul spell, a trick typical of the minions of Chaos. They had summoned a great beast to sweep them away.
"The hounds may pursue them, my lord Crakmarrow," came Valreek's soft tones.
"Nay." The Duke raised a hand. "The ruffians have learnt their lesson. They will not return to this place. You have done well, Gristlewel."
"Thank you, my lord."
Their grunts echoed in the alley over the still body.
"My lord!" The butcher approached the fallen form, surprise on his features. "The criminal! He has... Food on him! He must have been stealing from the peasants here..."
Crakmarrow's brow furrowed. Food? Did that make sense? Why would the ruffian have...?
He felt hungry...
The alley grew quiet as the figures looked at the body.
An hour later, there was only bones.
Saturday, 20 April 2019
Rain
Three gunshots went off, and Aiko Kurusu opened her eyes.
Sleep cleared from her mind. It hadn't been gunshots. She was in bed in her apartment, and someone was pounding on her door. She could hear a muffled voice, and the drum of rain on the window. It wasn't real - condensation from the heat of Olynpia's engines.
"Babe?" Somebody shifted next to her, and Aiko felt skin on skin. "What's going on?"
"Don't worry about it," she whispered. The digital clock read 3:20 AM in angry scarlet. "Go back to sleep."
She reached over. In the bedside drawer were the cockroach bodies of two burner phones, and a pistol. She grabbed it and clicked the safety as she slipped out of the warmth. The hallway chilled her. She spied herself in the tiny circular mirror on the wall. Her black hair was wild and her eyes were tired.
"Aiko! It's me! Open up!" The voice was clear now. Aiko turned to the door, pressed an eye to the peephole. She saw a lanky young man, features made crazy by shadows from the one streetlight still working outside.
"Who is it," she called.
"It's me, it's Jared! Open the door, man!"
She recognised the name, and the logo on his t-shirt. Slow Weather Jamz. He was such a kid.
It was stained red.
"Jesus," she muttered. Her thin fingers fumbled the chain lock and the two bolts loose, and she wrenched open the door. She stared up at his too-young face. He'd been crying.
"Jesus, Aik," he stammered, "you're naked."
"You're covered in blood," she snapped back. "Get the fuck inside."
He ambled in, the red on his clothes and hands turning black in the light. Aiko peered out behind him, but saw nothing in the street to worry her. She shut the door and bolted everything.
"The fuck happened?" She turned back to him. Rain mixed with his tears and made Slow Weather Jamz cling to his torso.
"T-they hit up Ron," he gasped. "We were at the arcade, and -"
"Who did it?"
"Marco."
Things got... Hazy from there. She knew Marco. Marco acted tough but he didn't own shit. His most famous accomplishment was being apprehended by a Bioroid for hitting someone. How had he got the balls to do something like this?
"Let the bullets breath, Jared, dude." She saw brass casings slip into magazines. "Uzis jam a lot."
"Sorry."
Why was she good at killing? Would she find out why if they scanned the barcode on her neck? They'd find out how much she was worth, probably. Too much? Too little? It gave her away, and she'd spent too much failing to scrub the devilsd mark off.
She put the gas mask on. She could pretend to be someone else now.
"Transport?"
"Got a Cherokee outside." Jared was watching her. "I told Davey and No-Face but they didn't want any of it. Don't want no trouble."
Of course not. Cowards.
The drive was a blur. All the same. Packed houses. Dripping rain built by the engines of the city. Neon. Cleaning drones, the odd Bioroid, hookers and drunks and homeless. The people the upper city liked to pretend didn't exist. No transport. No services. No jobs unless you turned to crime.
She didn't know who to be angry at the most.
All of them.
He was there, suddenly, and she wondered why she even had a gun. What was the point? He was standing in the rain. He was talking to himself. Was he? Marco wasn't crazy, right? But Jared was behind her and he couldn't see her not be tough.
"Hey, motherfucker!"
He turned.
Oh, fuck.
Her finger hesitated. There was a song like this, wasn't there? East Coast rapper. She couldn't think. But he was holding her in his arms and she couldn't be even a year old, what was this shit? What if she'd pulled the trigger without shouting?
She could see his face, pale, scared. Marco was always a pretender.
The baby made a noise she hated.
Something in her head told her to pull the trigger anyway. But Nyalarhotep said something else. Everything was looking at her. So she did the one thing she could do to stop it. She thumbed the red blinking app on her smartphone.
"Mementos."
CANDIDATE FOUND
And then she was gone, into the swirl of red and train tracks and cogs and decay. She didn't have to pull a trigger. She didn't have to think about the fact that she had gone out to kill someone. She could ignore what Jared's reaction would be.
She needed a drink, but the human subconscious lacked bars.
But she knew one place that did good booze.
Sleep cleared from her mind. It hadn't been gunshots. She was in bed in her apartment, and someone was pounding on her door. She could hear a muffled voice, and the drum of rain on the window. It wasn't real - condensation from the heat of Olynpia's engines.
"Babe?" Somebody shifted next to her, and Aiko felt skin on skin. "What's going on?"
"Don't worry about it," she whispered. The digital clock read 3:20 AM in angry scarlet. "Go back to sleep."
She reached over. In the bedside drawer were the cockroach bodies of two burner phones, and a pistol. She grabbed it and clicked the safety as she slipped out of the warmth. The hallway chilled her. She spied herself in the tiny circular mirror on the wall. Her black hair was wild and her eyes were tired.
"Aiko! It's me! Open up!" The voice was clear now. Aiko turned to the door, pressed an eye to the peephole. She saw a lanky young man, features made crazy by shadows from the one streetlight still working outside.
"Who is it," she called.
"It's me, it's Jared! Open the door, man!"
She recognised the name, and the logo on his t-shirt. Slow Weather Jamz. He was such a kid.
It was stained red.
"Jesus," she muttered. Her thin fingers fumbled the chain lock and the two bolts loose, and she wrenched open the door. She stared up at his too-young face. He'd been crying.
"Jesus, Aik," he stammered, "you're naked."
"You're covered in blood," she snapped back. "Get the fuck inside."
He ambled in, the red on his clothes and hands turning black in the light. Aiko peered out behind him, but saw nothing in the street to worry her. She shut the door and bolted everything.
"The fuck happened?" She turned back to him. Rain mixed with his tears and made Slow Weather Jamz cling to his torso.
"T-they hit up Ron," he gasped. "We were at the arcade, and -"
"Who did it?"
"Marco."
Things got... Hazy from there. She knew Marco. Marco acted tough but he didn't own shit. His most famous accomplishment was being apprehended by a Bioroid for hitting someone. How had he got the balls to do something like this?
"Let the bullets breath, Jared, dude." She saw brass casings slip into magazines. "Uzis jam a lot."
"Sorry."
Why was she good at killing? Would she find out why if they scanned the barcode on her neck? They'd find out how much she was worth, probably. Too much? Too little? It gave her away, and she'd spent too much failing to scrub the devilsd mark off.
She put the gas mask on. She could pretend to be someone else now.
"Transport?"
"Got a Cherokee outside." Jared was watching her. "I told Davey and No-Face but they didn't want any of it. Don't want no trouble."
Of course not. Cowards.
The drive was a blur. All the same. Packed houses. Dripping rain built by the engines of the city. Neon. Cleaning drones, the odd Bioroid, hookers and drunks and homeless. The people the upper city liked to pretend didn't exist. No transport. No services. No jobs unless you turned to crime.
She didn't know who to be angry at the most.
All of them.
He was there, suddenly, and she wondered why she even had a gun. What was the point? He was standing in the rain. He was talking to himself. Was he? Marco wasn't crazy, right? But Jared was behind her and he couldn't see her not be tough.
"Hey, motherfucker!"
He turned.
Oh, fuck.
Her finger hesitated. There was a song like this, wasn't there? East Coast rapper. She couldn't think. But he was holding her in his arms and she couldn't be even a year old, what was this shit? What if she'd pulled the trigger without shouting?
She could see his face, pale, scared. Marco was always a pretender.
The baby made a noise she hated.
Something in her head told her to pull the trigger anyway. But Nyalarhotep said something else. Everything was looking at her. So she did the one thing she could do to stop it. She thumbed the red blinking app on her smartphone.
"Mementos."
CANDIDATE FOUND
And then she was gone, into the swirl of red and train tracks and cogs and decay. She didn't have to pull a trigger. She didn't have to think about the fact that she had gone out to kill someone. She could ignore what Jared's reaction would be.
She needed a drink, but the human subconscious lacked bars.
But she knew one place that did good booze.
Monday, 30 April 2018
Atlas
It was a muggy Spring morning on the day the Weyland Consortium arrived on Earth, and Ryuji Sakamoto was in an apartment in Yongen-Jaya, discovering the joys of plastic models.
"Watch the knife, dummy!" This wasn't his voice, but the voice of the girl hovering over his shoulder. Ryuji jerked, the modelling knife in his hand hewing away from the desk he sat at.
"I wasn't gonna cut myself, Futaba!"
Futaba rolled her eyes behind her wide glasses. "Sure, idiot. Look, cut down towards the mat, okay? I don't want to have to explain to Haru why you lost a finger." The small girl headed back to her ridiculous rig of computer monitors, the torrent of information tinting her long orange hair in soda-fake colours.
Ryuji looked from the neon spiderweb of plastic in his other hand to the box. He'd been persuaded by the colourful art of one of his favourite mecha on the front, but the contents had been lies. Lies made of plastic and sticker sheets. Who built their own action figure? It was madness. Futaba needed to get a physical hobby so he didn't have to get dragged into this crap.
She had, however, just invoked Haru. Ryuji didn't know how to feel about that, or about Haru in general.
"Fine," he sighed, and raised the knife again. Then he felt a vibration, rumbling through his seat and the desk.
"Uh, Futaba?"
"That wasn't me!" Futaba glared at him. "Was it you?"
"I'm not that gassy."
Futaba snorted and turned back to her screens. Ryuji moved to cut the plastic again and felt the vibration again, rattling the plastic in front of him.
"Okay, I'm not going crazy. What was that? Earthquake?"
Futaba gasped. Ryuji span in his chair. The computer screens were a whirl of text strings and news clips, dancing too fast for Ryuji to parse.
"Ryuji! Something's here! Something big!" Futaba's fingers were blurs across the keyboard. "There's dropships, all over Japan, all over the Pacific, they're all -"
"Woah, woah, what?" Ryuji blinked in incomprehension. "Slow down! What's -"
"LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!"
Ryuji barely had time to hurl open the window of Futaba's apartment and stick his head out before the heat of the Atlas Dropship's engines washed over him.
---
"Looking good, Akira."
The dark-haired young man gently let the weights down from his bench press. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and smiled. "Don't I always?"
Ann, standing over him with her blonde hair haloed by the gym's cheap lighting, smirked and flicked her towel at him. "Jerk. C'mon, it's my turn. And I need a spotter, anyway."
Akira wondered if she was flirting. He'd made missteps before - ones that had hurt them both. Instead, he just breathed "sure" and stood up from the bench. The tremor came as he bent over to pick up his water bottle, and he stumbled, nearly face-planting into Ann's stomach. Only a reflexive foot stepping forward saved him.
"Smooth," came Ann's voice. She sounded as shocked as he felt.
"Earthquake?" was his response.
"No, it'd be way more sustained. What was - "
Akira's phone buzzed. Ann pulled hers out at the same time, both flicking to their messages.
YaBoiRyuji: HOLY FUCK LOOK OUTSIDE
---
Makoto Nijima didn't respond to the buzzing of her phone straight away. College assignments, especially for courses related to policing, didn't write themselves. She went to the end of the thought she was trying to express, brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face, and picked up her phone.
AkiraAkira: you gotta be kidding me
Medjed: dude it's everywhere, dropships all over the place like something outta starship troopers
YaBoiRyuji: they're all going to the pacific ocean, apparently
Blondeshell: what? why? (◕⌓◕;)
Medjed: all the news outlets say there's going to be a press release shortly, don't know anything else apart from that. can't scrape anything from my usual spots either. its all just wild guesses.
Makoto pursed her lips. Her friends weren't usually this active, not since real life had split them up somewhat. Usually it was just Ryuji and Futaba posting memes, or Ryuji and Haru posting cat pictures. Or just... Ryuji.
Her thumbs tapped out a message.
Justice Fist: I assume this might have something to do with the superheroes who reside out there?
YaBoiRyuji: hey makoto bb it's been a while! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
AkiraAkira: nice to see you again queen
Medjed: MAKOTO!!!! ╰( ･ ᗜ ･ )╯
Makoto smirked. She hadn't been called her code name in a while.
Blondshell: what makes you think that, makoto?
Medjed: strange things always happen around them, it's true
Justice Fist: I wasn't there for the first gathering, but I take it from your stories that they are a magnet for trouble.
YaBoiRyuji: yeah i cant believe we own a boat now
Justice Fist: I still don't believe that you do.
YaBioRyuji: you're gonna eat your words when we go on our kickass pirate cruise (ಠ ∩ಠ)
Saiyuri: Can we get back to the point?
---
Yusuke sighed and pocketed his phone down for a moment. The park's tranquility had been interrupted, and the birds he had been trying to sketch had taken off at the first wash of engine heat. Now the lake was duckless.
He'd been struggling for a while. After his visit to Kuwahawi with his friends, he'd come back and created what he'd thought were, at the time, some of his greatest works. Splashes of effervescent color, calm blues, feelings of complex tranquility. But then he'd shown them to his teacher.
"Something's missing here, Yusuke," he'd said.
Yusuke blinked. Criticism was still a little tough to take. "What is that?"
"You're a smart boy, Yusuke." There had been a twinkle in his teacher's eye. "You tell me."
Yusuke had studied his pictures for a long minute.
"People," he finished, at last. "Not... that there's no people, that would be facile. It's more that I didn't interact with many people, native or not. There's a human element missing."
That had been the solution. Yusuke had been looking forward to their next trip - a chance to correct this issue. To meet new people, gain their expiernces, and -
The phone buzzed. Yusuke sighed and pulled out his phone again. Tranquility and technology didn't often mix.
Medjed: okay holy shit news is coming through
Medjed: do not adjust your sets ladies and gents
FluffnStuff: What's going on? (⊙△⊙✿)
YaBoiRyuji: oh hi haru!
Medjed: lol ryuji
FluffnStuff: There's ships of some kind flying all over Tokyo!!
Saiyuri: Futaba is supposed to be telling us more as it comes, once she stops making fun of Ryuji.
Medjed: fuck off yiff boy I'll fight you
Blondeshell: everyone shut up!
AkiraAkira: did he just say Weyland?
---
Haru looked out of the window at the black dots soaring over Tokyo towards the bay, then back to the boardroom television. There was a man in a fir-green suit, with impossibly neat hair. He was saying a lot of words Haru had heard her father say in the boardroom, and not any words she liked. One hand went to a curl in her hair, circling the lock around a finger.
She was scared and she didn't know why.
YaBoiRyuji: can anyone decipher his fucking business speak?
Justice Fist: Language, Ryuji.
Medjed: i think the jist is that they're here to build something
AkiraAkira: Futaba, can you get any information on this beanstalk he keeps talking about
Medjed: no promises
Saiyuri: As in the western fairy tale?
Blondeshell: oh shit yusuke might be onto something
FluffnStuff: that doesn't make sense, you can't build something that tall
AkiraAkira: maybe we can't
Medjed: oh crap
Medjed: uh, when are we leaving for kuwahawi?
AkiraAkira: tomorrow, why?
Medjed: I don't think it's going to be much of a holiday :<
Justice Fist: Does this mean we need Morgana?
YaBoiRyuji: oh man srsly?!
Haru sighed and put the phone down.
"Oh dear," she whispered to the empty room.
---
They were on the plane. Akira, in the middle of the row of seats, squeezed Ann's hand on his right. She offered him a nervous smile. Ryuji snored in the seat on his left. Behind him, Makoto asked Yusuke if he could pass the biscuits, please. Haru was across the aisle from Ryuji, looking pensive.
There was one extra person, and they were in the cargo hold. They were probably going to hate this flight.
Akira should be looking forward to the holiday. It was going to be sun, sand and sea again. He could submit his college papers remotely. It wouldn't be difficult. He could manage all of this. He'd done it before.
"Keep telling yourself that," he muttered.
People would notice they were gone. How long could they be away before it started to look bad? What would happen? Futaba would know where they were, but she couldn't be there physically. She had school to go to. Sojiro knew, although he'd not approved in the slightest. "Don't come back dead, kid." Those had been his words, growled out over a cup of coffee.
Akira was going to ruin his friend's lives, if they were lucky.
"Watch the knife, dummy!" This wasn't his voice, but the voice of the girl hovering over his shoulder. Ryuji jerked, the modelling knife in his hand hewing away from the desk he sat at.
"I wasn't gonna cut myself, Futaba!"
Futaba rolled her eyes behind her wide glasses. "Sure, idiot. Look, cut down towards the mat, okay? I don't want to have to explain to Haru why you lost a finger." The small girl headed back to her ridiculous rig of computer monitors, the torrent of information tinting her long orange hair in soda-fake colours.
Ryuji looked from the neon spiderweb of plastic in his other hand to the box. He'd been persuaded by the colourful art of one of his favourite mecha on the front, but the contents had been lies. Lies made of plastic and sticker sheets. Who built their own action figure? It was madness. Futaba needed to get a physical hobby so he didn't have to get dragged into this crap.
She had, however, just invoked Haru. Ryuji didn't know how to feel about that, or about Haru in general.
"Fine," he sighed, and raised the knife again. Then he felt a vibration, rumbling through his seat and the desk.
"Uh, Futaba?"
"That wasn't me!" Futaba glared at him. "Was it you?"
"I'm not that gassy."
Futaba snorted and turned back to her screens. Ryuji moved to cut the plastic again and felt the vibration again, rattling the plastic in front of him.
"Okay, I'm not going crazy. What was that? Earthquake?"
Futaba gasped. Ryuji span in his chair. The computer screens were a whirl of text strings and news clips, dancing too fast for Ryuji to parse.
"Ryuji! Something's here! Something big!" Futaba's fingers were blurs across the keyboard. "There's dropships, all over Japan, all over the Pacific, they're all -"
"Woah, woah, what?" Ryuji blinked in incomprehension. "Slow down! What's -"
"LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!"
Ryuji barely had time to hurl open the window of Futaba's apartment and stick his head out before the heat of the Atlas Dropship's engines washed over him.
---
"Looking good, Akira."
The dark-haired young man gently let the weights down from his bench press. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and smiled. "Don't I always?"
Ann, standing over him with her blonde hair haloed by the gym's cheap lighting, smirked and flicked her towel at him. "Jerk. C'mon, it's my turn. And I need a spotter, anyway."
Akira wondered if she was flirting. He'd made missteps before - ones that had hurt them both. Instead, he just breathed "sure" and stood up from the bench. The tremor came as he bent over to pick up his water bottle, and he stumbled, nearly face-planting into Ann's stomach. Only a reflexive foot stepping forward saved him.
"Smooth," came Ann's voice. She sounded as shocked as he felt.
"Earthquake?" was his response.
"No, it'd be way more sustained. What was - "
Akira's phone buzzed. Ann pulled hers out at the same time, both flicking to their messages.
YaBoiRyuji: HOLY FUCK LOOK OUTSIDE
---
Makoto Nijima didn't respond to the buzzing of her phone straight away. College assignments, especially for courses related to policing, didn't write themselves. She went to the end of the thought she was trying to express, brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face, and picked up her phone.
AkiraAkira: you gotta be kidding me
Medjed: dude it's everywhere, dropships all over the place like something outta starship troopers
YaBoiRyuji: they're all going to the pacific ocean, apparently
Blondeshell: what? why? (◕⌓◕;)
Medjed: all the news outlets say there's going to be a press release shortly, don't know anything else apart from that. can't scrape anything from my usual spots either. its all just wild guesses.
Makoto pursed her lips. Her friends weren't usually this active, not since real life had split them up somewhat. Usually it was just Ryuji and Futaba posting memes, or Ryuji and Haru posting cat pictures. Or just... Ryuji.
Her thumbs tapped out a message.
Justice Fist: I assume this might have something to do with the superheroes who reside out there?
YaBoiRyuji: hey makoto bb it's been a while! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
AkiraAkira: nice to see you again queen
Medjed: MAKOTO!!!! ╰( ･ ᗜ ･ )╯
Makoto smirked. She hadn't been called her code name in a while.
Blondshell: what makes you think that, makoto?
Medjed: strange things always happen around them, it's true
Justice Fist: I wasn't there for the first gathering, but I take it from your stories that they are a magnet for trouble.
YaBoiRyuji: yeah i cant believe we own a boat now
Justice Fist: I still don't believe that you do.
YaBioRyuji: you're gonna eat your words when we go on our kickass pirate cruise (ಠ ∩ಠ)
Saiyuri: Can we get back to the point?
---
Yusuke sighed and pocketed his phone down for a moment. The park's tranquility had been interrupted, and the birds he had been trying to sketch had taken off at the first wash of engine heat. Now the lake was duckless.
He'd been struggling for a while. After his visit to Kuwahawi with his friends, he'd come back and created what he'd thought were, at the time, some of his greatest works. Splashes of effervescent color, calm blues, feelings of complex tranquility. But then he'd shown them to his teacher.
"Something's missing here, Yusuke," he'd said.
Yusuke blinked. Criticism was still a little tough to take. "What is that?"
"You're a smart boy, Yusuke." There had been a twinkle in his teacher's eye. "You tell me."
Yusuke had studied his pictures for a long minute.
"People," he finished, at last. "Not... that there's no people, that would be facile. It's more that I didn't interact with many people, native or not. There's a human element missing."
That had been the solution. Yusuke had been looking forward to their next trip - a chance to correct this issue. To meet new people, gain their expiernces, and -
The phone buzzed. Yusuke sighed and pulled out his phone again. Tranquility and technology didn't often mix.
Medjed: okay holy shit news is coming through
Medjed: do not adjust your sets ladies and gents
FluffnStuff: What's going on? (⊙△⊙✿)
YaBoiRyuji: oh hi haru!
Medjed: lol ryuji
FluffnStuff: There's ships of some kind flying all over Tokyo!!
Saiyuri: Futaba is supposed to be telling us more as it comes, once she stops making fun of Ryuji.
Medjed: fuck off yiff boy I'll fight you
Blondeshell: everyone shut up!
AkiraAkira: did he just say Weyland?
---
Haru looked out of the window at the black dots soaring over Tokyo towards the bay, then back to the boardroom television. There was a man in a fir-green suit, with impossibly neat hair. He was saying a lot of words Haru had heard her father say in the boardroom, and not any words she liked. One hand went to a curl in her hair, circling the lock around a finger.
She was scared and she didn't know why.
YaBoiRyuji: can anyone decipher his fucking business speak?
Justice Fist: Language, Ryuji.
Medjed: i think the jist is that they're here to build something
AkiraAkira: Futaba, can you get any information on this beanstalk he keeps talking about
Medjed: no promises
Saiyuri: As in the western fairy tale?
Blondeshell: oh shit yusuke might be onto something
FluffnStuff: that doesn't make sense, you can't build something that tall
AkiraAkira: maybe we can't
Medjed: oh crap
Medjed: uh, when are we leaving for kuwahawi?
AkiraAkira: tomorrow, why?
Medjed: I don't think it's going to be much of a holiday :<
Justice Fist: Does this mean we need Morgana?
YaBoiRyuji: oh man srsly?!
Haru sighed and put the phone down.
"Oh dear," she whispered to the empty room.
---
They were on the plane. Akira, in the middle of the row of seats, squeezed Ann's hand on his right. She offered him a nervous smile. Ryuji snored in the seat on his left. Behind him, Makoto asked Yusuke if he could pass the biscuits, please. Haru was across the aisle from Ryuji, looking pensive.
There was one extra person, and they were in the cargo hold. They were probably going to hate this flight.
Akira should be looking forward to the holiday. It was going to be sun, sand and sea again. He could submit his college papers remotely. It wouldn't be difficult. He could manage all of this. He'd done it before.
"Keep telling yourself that," he muttered.
People would notice they were gone. How long could they be away before it started to look bad? What would happen? Futaba would know where they were, but she couldn't be there physically. She had school to go to. Sojiro knew, although he'd not approved in the slightest. "Don't come back dead, kid." Those had been his words, growled out over a cup of coffee.
Akira was going to ruin his friend's lives, if they were lucky.
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