>>143945
>The Xaoc System
>Ring up work and tell them you're taking a leave of absence

>>144060
>>The Xaoc System

Ah, the Xaoc System. That's a good place to start an adventure! It's the biggest venue in the Confederacy, run by the mad Matryoshka. Imagine if a party was happening on every level of a five star hotel, then bring it all into one place. What does Xaoc even mean, anyway? Does anyone even know/care? Maybe some of those "sunflowers" are sold there. Royce waves his hand at the projection screen on his empty wall, and a list of space flights appears before him. There's one in about forty-five minutes. If you leave now, you can make it with a good chunk o' time to spare.

>Buy a ticket now, have seat reserved
>Buy at the departure gate, maybe suffer coach

>>Ring up work
"Hey," you say after dialing into the offices of the other foremen. Stubbs picks up, having followed some good advice you gave him and got himself promoted to cover the opposite shift.
"Royce!" he laughs, "What are you calling in for?"
"I've gone and done it," to which there's more laughter from Stubbs, "I've made the purchase and am going out of town for a while."
"Well! Good! Going to see your Lynell?"
"Damn skippy!" Royce cheers, almost jumping into the ceiling. Since he started working out, Royce has been much more energetic. It was something that taught him how low his apartment's ceiling was.
"Well, I can call up some of the other Foremen and we'll be able to make up for your leave. We've been wondering when you'd just up and leave. Definitely dig that you told us, though. Take it easy out there, Royce!"

The line goes quiet, and Royce surveys the room. Before the rest of his life starts, there's a decision to make. Trips need stuff, and this stuff could be anything.

Choose 5 items!
>Guitar
>Refillable water canister
>Notepad device w/ stylus
>Communicator (cell phone on roids)
>Projection-based computer (Omnitool, sans cool knife)
>Rebreather mask (Starlord's mask, clear visor)
>Paper map of Confederacy

>>144103
Buy ticket now, get a nice seat.
Take the follwing
Guitar
Communicator
Projection based computer
Rebreather mask
Water canister.

Because when does anything ever to right.
Map being less important since i imagine you can find that shit anywhere.
And notepads are for chumps without decent memory but its a sacrifice that mist be made.

>>144130
I'll second this

>>144130
>Buy ticket now, get a nice seat

Packing items! INV-MANAGER v4.6!
>http://pastebin.com/j0pS8pm5

In the span of seconds, he gets a nice seat to the Xaoc spaceport. Well, Xaoc. The site didn't list a whole lot about Xaoc's space station, saying that the flight was a group flight on a little frigate. Probably a party-bus. This reservation moves out of the way of all the mess that is departure, at least. Taking a moment to pack some shit, Royce has a moment of thought. Of everything he owns, he's got basically all he needs in his hands. Guitar to entertain him on long flights, the communicator to call Lynell, the pro-comp to keep shit on hand at all times (as long as the networking is stable), a rebreather mask, and a water can.

As it all digitized into the redpack, there was the epiphany that Royce could've packed this shit and left a long time ago. Probably could've fucked off years ago, maybe if he'd... No. This is the start of a great journey. No sense fucking up this good day with reflection on what went wrong these long years. Speaking of things that went right...

>Call Lynell now
>Call Lynell later

Snagging some chicken from the fridge, Royce chomps down on it to realize he didn't bother reheating it. Taking a second to run it through the microwave, there's a bit of ceremony involved in chowing down.

>Who has time for waiting? Ships have amenities like showers. Let's fuckin' go!
>You've got time, might as well get showered up and actually into something NOW.

>>144146
>Call Lynell later
desu I kinda want to surprise her, message her only to check if she's home while pretending it's only to check if she's okay for a virtual call
>Who has time for waiting? Ships have amenities like showers. Let's fucking go!
Allons-y!

>>144156
This.
Plus it will make it thag much more dramatic when communications go out and all hell breaks lose.
Or, be a pleasnt surprise for the lady. Win-win.

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>>144156
>>144159
>Call Lynell later
>Allons-y!

Deciding that it'd be better to surprise Lynell in the very near future, Royce puts feet down from the couch after basically inhaling the heated chicken. I've got places to be! he says, humming along to an old song that was almost lost to history. Royce woke up today, and put all the important shit in a red box.

He'd been unpacked, but the lyrics referred to not having unpacked, so he parroted "I guess it's good I haven't finished unpacking all of this in the first place,"

Running out of the apartment, and almost forgetting to lock the door behind him, the "taking a leave of absence" dock foreman booked it as soon as he was able. With an agility earned by training on grav-weights and a few nice stepping machines, the crowds were easy to navigate.

There was a familiarity to the faces, though. People that knew him, those that encouraged him as he put his life together. A few friends, scattered about a crowd, and some scattered remarks from them, all made this seem like the start of a great time.

"Go get 'em, Royce!"
"Hey! Don't get TOO excited, Arnolds!"
"Don't forget to come down from the clouds!"
"I'll check the news for you!"

They were almost as excited as Royce was. At the spaceport, Stubbs clotheslined the kid and spun him around to put him in a headlock and rub knuckles in his head. Considering the early leave, there was a bit of room to screw around. Now... If only the hands weren't metal.

"Lover-boy! Glad to hear you're ready to take on the Confederacy. You pack some good stuff?"
"Of course, you think I'm dumb?"
"Well, there was the whole faceplant thing."
"Okay, you got me," Royce laughs, being released and punching the prosthetic shoulder. Good thing that was a soft jab.

>Let him in on your first stop
>Quickly wave him off
>Ask him if the rest of the crew can hold up

Departure in: TEN. Minutes!

>>144167
>Ask him if the rest of the crew can hold up

>>144176
This, and then haul ass.

>>144176
>>Ask him if the rest of the crew can hold up

"So, Stubbs, you think the crew can post the same results without me?"
"What? Of course not. Since you started talkin' to your favorite Earthling, I doubt there's anything we have that could keep up with your... Motivation? I dunno, you just got us rolling."
"I couldn't have been that instrumental?"
"Man, you've been doing something right. We kicked overall productivity up by about fifteen percent. That's awesome."
"Is this you admitting I'm not awful?" Royce chides, bearing half his teeth in a shit-eating grin.
"Oh stop," Stubbs shakes his head before embracing his coworker, "Whatever you're doing, don't stop. You're gonna make Lynell one happy girl. Go get 'er!"

>>This, and then haul ass.

Royce quickly returned the embrace with one arm, patting Stubbs on the back before booking it down the rest of the spaceport. Making it to the gate, an eerie silence falls. Maybe everyone's already onboard?

Royce looked it all over to find that everything was good: this is the port, this is the ship, and the ticket's definitely good for Xaoc. Shrugging it off, he rushed through the doors and to the airlock.

Departure in: SEV- There was a wave of static on the speakers.
Departure imminent, please board.

The airlock cycled, and Royce was relieved to find several people in the boat with him. They all seemed to be wondering what was going on with the timer, with bits of conversation echoing through the room into his ears.

>Sit near a group
>Sit alone

With a buzz, the neural interface brought up an alert that there was a call incoming. It was Lynell!

>Answer the call, no video
>Answer call, video
>Request to virtual chat

>>144190
>Sit near a group
>Answer call, no video
Blame solar flares. Or say that we're working.

>>144190
Sit alone, so you dont get trapped in a crowd if shit goes wrong.

Answer call, no video. Explain the weird set of circumstances and express concern for the sudden change.

Honestly, when does a depature ever happen early. Delays are the normal things you would deal with, and things have been too good today.

Its red flags everywhere man. Time to get paranoid.

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>>144196
>>144197
>Sit near a group
>Sit alone
>Milestone get: First indecisiveness!

Feeling mildly conflicted about which seat to get into, you remember something you intended to do at this point anyway: shower!

>Answer call, no video
"Y-ello?" you answer, quickly rushing to the bathroom for a good quick shower. It'll give you time to decide on which seat. Though, you think you'll probably just sit on the outer edge? Half-in and half-out of a crowd.

"Royce! How are you?"
"Oh, y'know, same-ol. Saving up and stuff."
"Aw, no video?"
>Blame solar flares.
>Explain weird set of circumstances and express concern
"Nah, we're... Having some weird stuff going on. Some guy didn't do a maintenance check on his warp core, off-loaded some electromagnetic waves. Basically everyone that was pushing the freight is having to deal with interference until it discharges fully."
"Oh, man, like that time a captain was drunk and almost broke one of your mag-cranes?"
"Yea," Royce hesitated, trying to remember how long ago that fiasco was, "Something like that. But, what's up?"
"Oh man it's been such a terrible day. I had to deal with the boss's wife kicking over some shit in the lobby, her weird lizard-dog-thing eating one of the little trees... Y'know why? Because boss-man didn't tell her about how he was off tomorrow."
"Wow, what an asshole."
"Promise me we won't have stupid fights like that?"
"Nah, we'll fight over why the dog-thing won't eat the tree."
There's laughter, Royce noted, and that means she doesn't suspect a thing. The shower kicks on.
"Wait, aren't you at work?"
"What?" Oh, duh, the shower noise, "Nononono! I mean..."

>[Lie] "Yes, I'm at work, but,"
>[Lie] "I went home to change clothes; I spilled my coffee earlier"
>Tell her what's going on; trip and weird departure

Leaving: BRALDY'S ESCAPE. Heading to: XAOC, HOME OF MUSIC

>>144224
>[Lie] "Yes, I'm at work, but,"
I just took a break, being foreman and all. The spacesuits can get pretty hot, so I like taking frequent showers.

>>144224
Be honest. In the event somthing goes wrong, the last thing we want is for her to blame us. Or think we are just coming up with elaborate bullshit to stop seeing her/ whatever crazy assumptions she might make.

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>Rollin for tuh empz
dice+1d99

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>>144227
>LIE

"Yea, I'm at work. Y'know, these suits get hot and such, and-"

>144231
>Be honest.
Were you really about to bullshit that those EVA suits made you sweaty? The low-atmosphere and the extremely low temperature of it kept things nice and comfortable. No, keeping up that lie would be insulting.

"Gah screw it: I'm not at work. I'm in a frigate's shower. I was going to keep it a surprise, but I'm starting that trip I keep talking about."
"You're at... Wait... The trip?!"
"Yea, I hope you're not mad for me ly-"
"I'm mortified! I gotta clean up! Shit!"
"Not even remotely-"
"No, that does not go there! Oh Progenitor's ballsack, I know our chats over the years have left little to the imagination, but I need to not have my place looking like I am a slob. Especially when..." There was a notable pause, "Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"

That was the irritation.

"Well, I didn't think things would get weird, but I'm on my way to Xaoc now. First stop, party-town! Downside: the ship left almost immediately after I got on. Me and a few others are concerned, I couldn't decide on a seat, you called, I took a shower, y'know how I get."
"Well, I mean, you're telling me now that something's going wrong. Besides my boyfriend going to the Xaoc system!"
"What's wrong with Xaoc?"
"You're lucky you're cute, you know that?"
"Dodging the question."
"The Matryoshka runs that joint. She's fuckin' bonkers. My boss still has the shakes from the time she bought up the rights to that one guy, the mouse-guy. Not the mouse with red pants and weird fascination with keys, the other mouse, y'know? Gah! I dropped my laundry all over the floor. But, she not only scared the boss half-to-death, but she's..."
"She's what? We covered the important part of her being nutty," you laughed, finishing the shower quickly and moving back to the cabin. Everyone was in place, so you took a seat just outside of the group. Not alone, but not in the crowd.

"Well, first off, she hears everything," Lynell whispered before suddenly picking up, "Second off, she's a scary potent psionic. Like, I picked it up super quick when she walked in. I bet good money it's how she was able to convince the boss to give up the records."

"Psionics aren't bad, you're one!" You protest.
"I'm a Grade Bravo. Like, I can do some cool telekinetics, maybe slap someone good, y'know? She's a Delta."
"That's..."

>"What do you mean, Delta?"
>"That's pretty bad."
>"Pfft, you could kick her ass, probably."

>>144252
Thats pretty bad. Gifted and psycotic?
next thing you'll tell me is she burns down orphanages in her freetime.

>>144273
guess I'll second, but also "Did you just call me your boyfriend?"

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>>144273
>"That's pretty bad. Gifted and psychotic?"
>>144274
>"Did you just call me your boyfriend?"

"Delta? Shit. Those are the ones that eat nails and burn down orphanages in their spare time, right?"
"This one? I don't know what she does, just that she's just got an aura of scary. Hard to explain to a non-psionic, but her colors are off. She could probably do the orphanage thing, though," she chuckles, and it almost makes you forget that she's warning you about an actual danger.
"Quick side-note, did you... Just call me your boyfriend?" you ask, feeling extra coy.
"Of course I did, you dolt. I mean, maybe there's better words for it, but... Dammit Royce, now's not the time to be cute right now!"
"You think I'm cute?"
"I'm gonna punch you right in your mouth when you get here. A good telekinetic one, nice concussive bop to the teeth."
"That's so embarrassing," Royce beams, his smile evident in the tone of his voice.
"Royce," Lynell sighed, breaking into laughter after a few seconds, "I thought we figured this out like, six months ago?"
"Still," the voice droned on a bit.
"Right in the mouth, Royce. Right in your cute mouth, and you'll go straight to the moon."

A shape is just outside of your view. Nothing exceptionally interesting happening, but your HUD does give you an alert to buckle in. Slipspace jumps can get weird, so this is pretty common on starships.

"We're about to enter slipspace. You know how comms get in those."
"Alrighty, Supreme. Just do me a favor, okay?"
"What's that?"
"Just, don't get too far down the rabbit hole, okay? People come out of Xaoc weird if they do."
"Don't worry. I'll climb out of it the second I see a weird dude in a big hat."

She laughs, the same laugh that would make any would-be superhuman crumple.

"Love you, you crazy dockworker."
"Love you too," you finish the call.

Looking around, you find an odd fellow's taken a seat next to you. The holographic "glasses" over your eyes fade, signalling you ended a call. Your communicator fits snugly in your pocket, and you thank the Progenitor for jeans. The guy's reading a book of some kind, scribbling in it once in a while with a red pen. He seems completely comfortable where he's at.

>Move seats
>Fuck it, might as well say hi
>Pull out guitar, get it tuned and strum some. Maybe scare him off.

>>144300
>Fuck it, might as well say hi

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>>144305
>Fuck it, might as well say hi

"Hey, uh, how are you?" Royce asks his new companion, not nearly with a timid nature as much as an expression of surprise. Not sitting that far from the group of people who appear to be from the same part of the station, or something, this isn't such a crazy thing to have happen.

"Oh! You're off the phone. Hey! I'm Henry!"
"Henry?" Royce cocked an eyebrow, "I'm Royce."
"Nice to meet you! You excited for the party of the year?"
"What?"
"That's what we're all here for, right? The party? Word is, the Matryoshka's got a special raffle going. Tickets to the Xaoc system are entered in, and you get a chance to personally party with her."

>"Party with THE Matryoshka? Hell yea I'm stoked!"
>"You're not bothered by the sudden departure?"
>"If I win, do you want my ticket?"

>>144323
>If I win do you want my ticket?
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

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>>144339
>str8 nop

"As cool as that sounds, I think you can have my ticket if I win," Royce concedes.
"Well, I mean, if you want to give that away, and she lets you, I'm definitely down for it!"

If she lets you?
"If she lets me?"
"Yea, if she lets you. She's fickle sometimes. Some days, she does whoever asks. Other days, not-so-much." Henry shrugs at this point. You take a second to notice his attire as he does so.

Black overcoat with red accents, light armor underneath, and lights running down his arms to the back of his hands. If you didn't know any better, you would've mistaken the nanopack - the military variant of a redpack - for a fancy light.

>"So, what is going on with this shindig?"
>"Uh... Nice duds."
>"BRB" and panic into bathroom

>>144363
>So, what's with the getup?

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>>144366
>So, what's with the getup?

"So, uh, Henry?"
"Yea?"
"What's with the getup? I mean, those are some sick duds. You don't wear that on a civilian budget."
"Oh, this?" Henry raised his hands up.

Analysis complete! Image attached!

"Yea, that."
"Sick, aren't they? These extensions are part of a contract deal with Project MENTIOUM and the Black Scribes."
"Project men-shoe?"
"MEN-tiowm,"
"That makes a lot more sense, now that you speak different languages."
"Basically, this is a special variant of Black Scribes gear that augments my psionics."
"Black Scribes? Those are the paramilitary guys, right? The ones that are all comic book heroes, and stuff?"
"Sort of."
"And you're one of them."
"I'm on leave."
"Well, what's a Scribe doing on leave? Don't you have some backwater colony to be protecting from bad guys? Plague to shoot?"
"Hey, just because I work for a potentially-secret-society doesn't mean I can't want to go rave my brains out once in a while, ya feel?"
"I mean, sure, but why wear combat gear to a rave?"
"Y'know, now that you put it that way-"

Entering slipspace! This voice sounds.... Different than the one that blared through the speakers earlier.

ALL ABOARD THE PARTY TRAIN!

There's a surge of motion, one that rocks the passengers towards the back of the ship. Expecting the jump, Royce buckled up. This wasn't his first spaceflight. Hearing the clang of metal combined with laughter, Royce looked back.

A group of kids, who were standing in the center aisle, had jumped when they anticipated the slipspace entry. They were launched backwards, and bounced off the bulkhead. They began shouting about bets, and how now one of them had to try grabbing the Matryoshka's ass.

Stupid kids.

"Y'know," Henry whispered, "You kind of reek the whole 'tourist' scent. You want me to show you around, while we party? Considering my affiliation and training that implies, I am pretty sure I can keep you safe."

>"Nah, I'm a tough guy. I know what I'm doing."
>"A guy with military training wants to cover my ass? Hell yea!"
>"If everything goes wrong, I'll look for you. I kinda wanna fly solo."

>>144406
"If everything goes wrong, i'll look for you."

>>144420
seconding

>>144420
>"If everything goes wrong, I'll look for you."

"Thanks, if things go South I'll find you," Royce spoke.
"Alright man," Henry laughed, "If we're on the same level of the Rabbit Hole I'll be pretty easy to spot. Just uh," Henry conjured a small ball of arcing blue energy in his hands, "Look for the light show."

From there, the ride wasn't that exciting. The kids that bounced off the bulkhead settled down, and Royce leaned back listening to some tunes. Henry seemed content with the exchange, as he didn't ask anymore questions.

ERRYBODY IN THE CLUB GETTIN' TIPSY... Or something. We're leaving slipspace!

At that, Henry sat up. He nudged Royce's shoulder, and Royce cut the tunes short.

"What's up?" Royce said, somewhat concerned.
"When we exit the jump," there was a surge in the opposite direction, pulling you away from your seat, "Well, okay, now, come check this out."

>Stay right where you are
>See what he's got to show you

>>144444
>See what he's got to show you

>>144444
>quints
see what he has to show us.

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>>144444
>quints

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>>144447
>>144449
>>144456
>got quints
>sweet Matryoshka's titties
>Post Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzClkMxdsgI

Standing up to follow Henry, the crazy dockworker walked straight up to a bulkhead that was retracting to reveal the star system this ship hand landed in. And… Wow. It looked like an explosion got told to sit still, and someone threw a planet at it before shouting the planet needed to sit still, too. Maybe a five year old decided he wanted to draw a ball of mud flying through the sky, but couldn't decide what color he needed?

“The system’s name is old Russian. Means Chaos, or something like that. Look at that, tell me it isn’t fitting,” Henry added. Royce could hear him laughing, but as he pressed his face to the acute force-field, he watched in awe.

What it took a second to notice, though, was the life on the planet. There was atmosphere, but the entire planet was moving along a beat. You watched lines like those on a motherboard trace notes up and down the surface, and clouds lit up like a sea creature that needed to pull in vapid prey. This was once-in-a-lifetime kind of view, or at least a “you have to see it to believe it” kind of thing. Every photon in the light show seemed to be part of a greater symphony, a greater song. It was simultaneously the most confusing thing to see, but it also made the most sense of anything Royce had ever seen. The ship accelerated, and the planet seemed to get notably closer as the floor rumbled.

“Wait, where’s the station?” Royce asked, which prompted more laughter from Henry.
“The station? You’re staring at it!”

>Sit right the fuck down, this is too much.
>”Wait, run that by me again?”
>”So, uh, where’s the party? Specifically, where's the booze?”

>>144483
>"Wait, run that by me again?"

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>>144485
>"Wait, run that by me again?"

"You what?" Royce sputtered, "Say again?"
"That is the station," Henry had run out of laughter at this point, sighing with contentment, "At some point in the past, the Matryoshka set up shop on this planetoid. Rumor has it, she's the reason it blew up so bad. However, we go straight into that chunk of rock and dock up. There's a dock and everything, all attached to mankind’s biggest nightclub.”
“A,” Royce swallowed, “Single nightclub is in my view right now.”
“Yep.”
“That’s,”
“That’s what?”
“That’s just,”
“Uh-huh?”
“That’s just ridiculous.”
“Welcome, my friend, to the Xaoc system. The music is loud, the girls are hot, the drinks are great, and if you’re still not sold, the drugs aren’t even necessary.”

>”Wait, are you telling me I was expected to snort something at some point, by getting on this ship?”
>”A rave without drugs? That’s like...”

Royce couldn’t help but look back to the glowing planet, pulsing beneath him. It seemed like the place of pure bliss. An atmosphere so intensely passionate and loud that nothing in the galaxy could stop its noise. Maybe that was the meaning of this whole thing? It was passion?

>Take picture, send to Lynell
>Don’t take picture

Royce wondered if he could bring Lynell here, when he got to Earth. Would she even want to go?

>>144520
>"Wait, are you telling me I was expected to snort something at some point, by getting on this ship?"
>Take picture, send to Lynell

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>>144538
>>"Wait, are you telling me I was expected to snort something at some point, by getting on this ship?"
>>Take picture, send to Lynell

“I was expected to snort something, or some kind of drug ingested through some weird means?!” Royce exclaimed.
“Well, kind of?”
“Are you?”
“No, because I know it’s not necessary.”

Shaking your head, Royce summoned his pro-comp. Waiting until the colors are all there at once, an impulse snakes along what might be the circuit of a giant computer chip to create a stunning line of white among the greens, purples, and reds in a picture that would surely make Lynell stop and go “wow.”

Caption?
>Maybe she isn’t so bad?
>Xaoc System, biggest nightclub known to man!
>Saw this, thought of you instantly.

There was a moment of silence, followed by the telling synthetic melodies of electronic dance music. Fitting, Royce felt, that synthetic music plays on a synthetic-looking planet.

“C’mon,” Henry gently pushes a shoulder, “I’ll show you off the ship. Everyone else has left, already seen postcards.”
“Postcards don’t capture that, do they?”
“Good ones do.”

Making way into the airlock with Henry, Royce reminds the strange psionic friend that if anything goes awry, that there will be a beeline straight to him. The Scribe gut-laughs, and places a hand on Royce’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, my man, I won’t be too far away if things go tits-up. Take it easy out there!”

Royce stood alone in the crowd, something he was able to work with, but Henry had vanished. Getting a quick feel for the place (thank goodness for city-colony life), the dockworker intuited that there were several different sub-clubs. They all seemed to be playing music from the same speakers, though. There were signs that introduced what each area was.

PICK AWAY!
>Punk Pit
>Silent Stage
>Classical Carabaret
>Soular Stage

>>144603
>Xaoc system, biggest nightclub known to man!
>Soular Stage

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>>144709
>Xaoc system, biggest nightclub known to man!

Royce captions it with ‘Xaoc system, biggest nightclub known to man!’ and ships it through the 'net. There is an instant "received" notification, which is unusually good reception. Normally it takes a few minutes, just by nature of how immense the distance these message have to travel. It’s like there’s some kind of augmented network here. Something that connects better, faster, stronger…

>Soular Stage

Royce approached the stage where everyone seemed to be dancing to a funk that… He could feel. The original melodies blaring through the speakers lining the floor, which were sounds of “welcome to the future” and the cheering of young women as you walked off the ship, it seemed to permeate everything here. A woman’s hips moved on a one-two pattern, a two-step that her and her partner combined into an Outer Colony Waltz. It was a dance with a dozen twists, three throws, and six dips. Royce wondered how he knew that. How did he know that? The only dancing he’d ever done was mosh pits on some shows in the underbelly of Braldy’s Escape. Maybe a few metal shows back home on Prosperity IV?

>Post Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NF-kLy44Hls

Without fully realizing it, Royce was swept along. There was a large group forming around him, almost orchestrated. Watching, there wasn’t any kind of thought or reasoning to it. They just moved to him. It was hard to explain, because as a mild tingling sensation filled his cerebellum the neural implants he had rumbled gently, and that was getting in the way of finer thought. It was surreal, with the bass-line of the music moving his legs as he tried to navigate the crowd. After a bit, he realized that there was a dance in his stepping. He wasn’t following a taught pattern, no.

The pattern was following him.

In a moment of clarity, he felt mild concern. There was a shape in the corner of his eye. Gold and silver, he saw it only briefly. It was a pair, but then it wasn’t? He dreamt of an island, in eternal sunset. The lights of the stage seemed to match. Or did the dream match the lights? Was there a band playing, or was that part of the dream? The clarity returned.

“Oh… Oh shit,” he said aloud.

>Do as the song says: lose yourself to dance.
>Back out. This isn’t Royce.

If Back out:
>Stay in entrance
>Punk Pit
>Classical Carabaret
>Silent Stage

>>144770
>Back out
>Stay at entrance
Next stop, stat!

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>>144892
>Back out

Royce knew that this was trouble. He took the moment of clarity to leave, running back to the entrance like he just saw his friend get shot. This was a bad place, with strange vibes. It… Was mildly terrifying. The people here seemed to be just fine, though. It was as if they were just letting go, and allowing the funk to move their soul.

>Stay at entrance

Running back to the entrance to the club, the music returned to normal. And by that, it would be more accurate to say “the funk stopped.” It seemed much more sinister, more thumpy and notably heavier on the industrial end of things. The stages seemed to have the same kind of music permeating the crowd, but all Royce wanted was to go home at this point.

>Post theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INhzlIz4QXA

He was here to sight-see, dammit, not… Whatever that was.

Aw, wittle babby wanna go home?

Royce darted his view around the room: nothing was speaking to him, but he heard it. It was in the music, and it was also in the speakers on top of the music, and it was in his ears. The light blues of his HUD began to flicker and sputter, changing out letters with various characters from different languages. None of which Royce could actually read.

All outbound flights cancelled, boy!
There was a sharp layer of feedback in the music.
We have one goal, and that’s to party! You GOTTA have a party. I mean, I chose your ticket, so you WILL party.

She was right: there was no exit flights. Royce just wanted to go home. Wait. Did she say she chose your ticket? She did! Henry could take this! Henry wanted it!

Where the fuck is Henry?!

>Soular Stage
>Punk Pit
>Classical Carabaret
>Silent Stage

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>Forgot to trip like a dit
>slept seven hours like a dumbass
>gg no re

>>144892
>Back out

Royce knew that this was trouble. He took the moment of clarity to leave, running back to the entrance like he just saw his friend get shot. This was a bad place, with strange vibes. It… Was mildly terrifying. The people here seemed to be just fine, though. It was as if they were just letting go, and allowing the funk to move their soul.

>Stay at entrance

Running back to the entrance to the club, the music returned to normal. And by that, it would be more accurate to say “the funk stopped.” It seemed much more sinister, more thumpy and notably heavier on the industrial end of things. The stages seemed to have the same kind of music permeating the crowd, but all Royce wanted was to go home at this point.

>Post theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INhzlIz4QXA

He was here to sight-see, dammit, not… Whatever that was.

Aw, wittle babby wanna go home?

Royce darted his view around the room: nothing was speaking to him, but he heard it. It was in the music, and it was also in the speakers on top of the music, and it was in his ears. The light blues of his HUD began to flicker and sputter, changing out letters with various characters from different languages. None of which Royce could actually read.

All outbound flights cancelled, boy!
There was a sharp layer of feedback in the music.
We have one goal, and that’s to party! You GOTTA have a party. I mean, I chose your ticket, so you WILL party.

She was right: there was no exit flights. Royce just wanted to go home. Wait. Did she say she chose your ticket? She did! Henry could take this! Henry wanted it!

Where the fuck is Henry?!

>Soular Stage
>Punk Pit
>Classical Carabaret
>Silent Stage

>>146518
>>>Punk Pit

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>>147133
>>>Punk Pit

It's time to panic, and Royce has what he feels is a brief window before SHE comes down the way and pulls her shit. There's a sense of urgency, and Royce finds himself running to the Punk Pit. He finds a throng of people his age, some younger, jumping up and down. The music begins to change, and the sensation in his neural implant is a lot less subtle than what was at the Soular Stage. Instead of an urge to find someone and just dance to a groove, Royce remembered every ounce of frustration in his life. Every little stubbed toe, every "I'll call you" from girls at the bars in your past, and most of all, the shit-show that was your life before he drunk-dialed Lynell.

These thoughts fill him with an energy Royce didn't have before. The cheering women become an urge to twist, shout, and just fucking mosh.

Let's MOSHERCISE, ROYCE!!!

Without full awareness of what was happening, he was in the crowd. He threw a fist into the sky, and did a hard spin-kick. He windmilled, he found himself wanting to jump up to the stage. He had fire in his chest, and it was coming out screaming lyrics he'd only heard once or twice on old records he kept. If it weren't for his workouts before leaving, he'd have probably collapsed on the floor. A fist hit him in the face, someone looked and laughed an apology, but Royce didn't care. He was used to getting beaned in these crowds, albeit with less "I feel my mind going numb in the process" involved in the pits of his youth.

He had a sudden craving for pizza, too.

Looking up, and seeing a familiar arm in the crowd, Royce went to grab it. As he did so, he felt hands on his backside. In the span of a heartbeat, he was on the crowd. Surfing up towards a stage, he saw the hero of the day: Henry. Once up on stage, there was a brief moment of silence. Henry air-guitared at the newcomer on stage, a smile on his face that seemed to leave a question mark in the air.

>"Holy shit I found you!"
>"What's happening?!"
>[Draw guitar] "Ladies and gentlemen!"

>>147204
>>[Draw guitar] "Ladies and gentlemen!"

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>>147216
>>[Draw guitar] "Ladies and gentlemen!"

Henry felt something eke into his mind. It got into his head, pulled on some old strings of his. Things he felt as a kid, some of the stuff he felt when jamming out in his apartment alone this past year. He wondered if he was good enough to play in front of a crowd.

“Just do whatever you want, Royce,” Henry mouthed. There was a volume implicit in what he mouthed, getting into the brain like it was one of Henry’s own thoughts. He shot Henry a quizzical look, and Henry’s eyes glowed a vacant purple. He moved his hands up and mouthed “Psionics baby!”

Henry shrugged. He looked over the crowd of people, who were clapping along as if Henry had just finished a fantastic set, and he heard chants. They were chanting his name.

“Royce!”
Royce!

There’s a single song Royce knew that would fit. He wasn’t sure if he could play it, at least not fully, but he had the heart to sing it. And that’s all that mattered. He’d be doing a cover of some really, really old but gold song. He had a moment of thinking “what if I…” but then decided against it.

“Ladies and Gentleman open up your eyes and ears and listen up! Listen up!”
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1WtftioDlw

Royce heard Henry shouting out the support vocals, and the rest of the instruments came from… They came from the speakers! Royce heard the traces of the music in the entrance, but they were fading. He felt the warmth in his neural implant, but as he ran his hands up and down the guitar the warmth ran through his nerves and calmed his jitters. He jumped up mid-riff, kicking his feet into the air.

The song took the crowd over, and they were running over one another to make the magic happen. Henry dropped to his knees, a small drone floating in front of him and broadcasting his voice throughout the pit.

“And God forbid,” Royce sang.
Henry screamed: “You find yourself off and remembering on,”
“And God forbid!”
“When you can’t find the swear in the words,”
Both sang out: “To a song! But it’s too late for me kid!”

Blaring the chorus twice again, Royce felt energized. The buzz in his neural implants was still there, but it felt much calmer. There was another pair of lights on the stage, now, and Royce hadn’t felt this great in a while. The crowd cheered, repeating the words “ONE MORE SONG!” and stomping a tune.

So, stranger, what are you doing?

>”Hey, Henry, you want the ticket?”
>[Encore] ”Roll with the punches!”
>Crowdsurf, rejoin the crowd

>>147286
>>”Hey, Henry, you want the ticket?”

>>147380
seconding

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>>147380
>>147506
>"Hey, Henry, you want the ticket?"
>placeholder image get; I need to commission someone for this character

As the crowd cheered, Royce sighed with contentment. He didn't know he could perform like that, nor did he imagine it would be nearly as kickass to rock out so hard his voice felt raw.

It was strange, because he could've sworn Henry was doing the screams.

Henry put an arm around him, patting his shoulder. As he did so, Royce took the opportunity to whisper.

"So, Henry, want my ticket?"
"What? You won?!" He shouted, backing up with a huge grin on his face. He was clearly more enthusiastic about it than Royce.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

The lights were blinding, and the crowd's enthusiasm dropped. They went extremely quiet, and there was a vaguely concealed sound of distress as someone fell from the crowdsurfing. A beachball bounced off Royce's face, and the lights moved from Henry and Royce to a strange woman on the stage behind Henry. She put her hand to the back of his head, and his eyes rolled up before he staggered to the right of Royce. As if Royce were a ladder, she climbed on him, an instinctive backwards-lean making his thighs the perfect foot-holds. It took a moment, but Royce realized that he was sitting on something now. It was like a platform of hard light, and it illuminated the girl’s face.

”Why do you wanna give away your ticket? Don’t you like li’l ol’ Mattie?”

>”Frankly, no.”
>”Uh, I… I uh, I’m spoken for.”
>Remain silent.

>>147553
>"Uh, I'm spoken for"

>>147553
" it doesn't really matter what I say does it?"
Since she's been in our heads this whole time.

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>>147564
>"Uh, I'm spoken for"
>Song: “Attention Whore” - deadmau5
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QI4O8byPw7g

Royce couldn't help but think of how Lynell would react if this... Stranger had been all over him in this scenario. There was an audible gulp from the dockworker's mouth.

>" it doesn't really matter what I say does it?"

"U-uh," Royce sputtered, "I'm spoken for. I mean, if it comes down to it, I don’t think you care but I want it known that I’m not… Open to this. Y’hear?" He gained a bit of confidence, raising his chin up and trying to sit up a little straighter. In this, the girl pushed down on his sternum with her finger. She was deceptively strong, almost like a weight was on his chest that spanned… A hard-light barrier appeared from her finger and it was apparent that there was something more to it.

“Bleh,” she said, “Of course the rando from Braldy’s Escape has a bit of fun then tries to leave without schmoozing me. They always do. However, they rarely leave without something from the ol’ Matryoshka. You’re not a sufficiently potent psionic, so I can’t give you cool powers… Maybe if Desmond weren’t such a prick I could see if you would make a good Matryoshka Doll,” she chuckled before jumping off the thighs and walking away. She skipped around the stage, and the crowd watched her with empty smiles.

Shit, Royce held his breath like it was a teddy bear: This is the Matryoshka that Lynell was talk-
“-ing about. Yea yea, I met your girlie. Pretty recently, actually. She’s nice! Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
”You… You met Lynell?”
“Yea, I had to talk to her boss. Tell you what. My kind of party clearly isn’t yours. So, I offer you a deal for your ticket.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll give you this crystal. You’ll hold on to it, and I send you to Leuans Colony. That’s what one of your next stops was, right?”
“Uh, I mean, yea, but-”
“Sh. I’m psionic with really kickass neural implants, and a lot of psi-terror. I know things. I also know there’s far more to you than meets the eye, oh Local Man.”
“Local man?”
“Yea! Y’know, like ‘local man ruins everything’ but without the last two words. You aren’t ruining anything. Yet. Well, I’ll be clear: you aren’t ruining the right things for the wrong people yet. But oh, you will.”
“Huh?”
“The deal, it’s simple,” she spoke, ignoring concerns of anyone hearing besides Royce, “I’m going to give you a crystal. When you have that crystal, you’re going to go to Leuans Colony with a special fellow named Sam. From the formulae I ran, and… Follow me, this will be cooler if you see my room. And no, I won’t bed you. I have respect for Lynell.”

>>cont next post

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>>147658
>>continuation

Royce followed the strange girl, who altered the music to have a gently repetitive bass kick. The hard light faded, and the stage began to rotate and change underneath Royce’s feet. There was enough for the crowd to be centered on, it was as if platforms were forming underneath and adding to create floor where retracting walls revealed several hallways, doorframes, and strange clocks. After several minutes, the girl put her back to a door, threw her hands in the air, and they snapped down to her thighs in an instant. An airlock formed around the walking duo, and at the opposite end came another confusing thing: an office. It was filled with paperwork, maps, and floating drones that displayed screens of all sorts of views.

Of the thousands of screens, Royce noticed two: one showed Royce’s apartment while the other showed Lynell, using psionics to toy with a collection of pens on her desk. They quickly moved away, making room for another screen with a grizzled man with a scar down his nose. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and his head was cleanly shaven. He held numbers up, posing for a mugshot.

“Is that Sam?”
“Yep. He’ll take you to a hotel, and you can rest off this party like a champion. Because that’s what you are, a champion. If my algorithms are correct, there’s a host of things going on that will coalesce in just the right way to get you in touch with another Black Scribe friend of mine. Well, she’s not exactly my friend as much as she punched me in my boob once, and apologized,” the Matryoshka used her right hand to massage her breast, wincing gently, before spinning and falling into a floating throne. She snaked her fingers up the wood carving, before leaning her head down to the ground and putting her legs on the backrest, “I mean, apology doesn’t help it heal, but it’s the thought. Anyway, you’ll need the crystal for what comes after.”
“And if I don’t take the crystal?”
“Are you really sure you want to see how far down the rabbit hole goes?” She brought forth a few hundred screens, that orbited you, “I know everything that happens in the Confederacy. Part of the perks of being super hot, and a crazy bitch! Work with me, get bank.”

She stopped for a second, laughing hysterically at a joke only she knew. One of her pupils went from fully-colored to a single speck of black, while the other became a galaxy of color, bleeding through the white of her eyes.

>”Well, I mean, this wasn’t THAT bad, I could peek a little further…”
>”Is Henry alright?”
>”Why are you helping me?”
>Don’t question it, take the crystal and fucking RUN.

>>147661
Take the crystal and fucking walk.
Focus your thoughts on simple things like how you know shes reading your mind, how your freaked out like every other chump that meets her, and how you wish you had stayed at home today.

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>>147682
>Take the crystal and fucking walk.
>Focus your thoughts on simple things

There were many, many things wrong with this woman. She said it, the exploded planet said it, and Royce was not willing to sit and stay to find out of the madness had some other side, like “m-muh compassion” or “replace your kidney with knives.” No, not one second longer. Royce had half a mind to just go home, call the trip over, and be content with a long-distance run. Weird rock shows that he didn’t know how to play, crazed funk music, no.

That shit, Royce held his hand out for the crystal, is for the birds.

“You’ve got a deal,” he huffed, “I’m done with this madhouse. And don’t try to tell me something about how all the good people are mad, I know that trope. I just want to get out of here, and make it to Earth.”

The Matryoshka clapped, cooing ardently as she flipped over to sit upright in the chair. There was a surge of electricity that seemingly consumed her, and the room dimmed for a second. In that brief moment, Royce considered just running. Before he could fully process it, though, the lights returned; she was bent over the desk. Royce imagined she had her tongue up over her lip, eagerly scribbling on some piece of paper with an archaic pen, rather than the almost all-too-common notepad device, before spinning on her heel and into another surge of lightning.

“Here,” she sang, “The right people will see it when they need to,” she provided a crystal of brilliant amber, semi-translucent and airy in weight. It felt as if Royce could dash it on the floor to spite her, but the smell was unique. It smelled of the dinners his parents would take the family on holidays, when they’d pulled enough credits together to go to one of the fancier establishments. He’d ask about it, but no. Royce dismissed it into his redpack after putting it behind his neck for a moment.

1x Strange Crystal added to inventory!
>http://pastebin.com/j0pS8pm5

“Now, go,” she barked, waving her hand, “That same ship you were on will take you to Leuans. From there, I’m sure you can find your way to wherever you want to go,” she beamed with a degree of madness that most likely came from copious amounts of drugs.

Toodles!

From there, Royce quickly found his way back to the entrance. The music had all but stopped, and the crowds no longer formed around him. He didn’t even bother going through the motions of pretending this was a normal flight: he plopped straight onto the ship’s passenger-hold and put his hands in his head.

>Call Lynell
>Sleep through ride
>Research Leuans Colony

>>147757
As badly as he would want to take a nap, best start doing some research so we dont just oops our way into another wonderful situation.

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>>147768
>As badly as he would want to take a nap, best start doing some research so we dont just oops our way into another wonderful situation.

Royce rubbed his eyes, wanting a drink of some hard variety to make up for the fact that he’d more or less just made a deal for mercenary fun.

With a pull of his pro-comp, he used the interface to look up some information on Leuans Colony. What he found was a nice little picture, and a travel advisory for the entire sector of space:

Any and all Republic vessels bearing Earth’s Celestial Naval Service tags are advised to only travel with their respective battlegroups, to prevent automated defense systems from causing valuable Republic personnel to be stranded indefinitely in this sector.

Fan-fuckin’-tastic.

Well, all things considered, this wasn’t likely to be an ECNF ship, nor was it likely to be a vessel that would get shot at for being aligned with the Republic. Most Outer Colony transport ships were pretty blatant with their “no Republic” business. Something Royce didn’t quite share, but he understood.

Travel Advisory: Any visitors to Leuans Mercenary Outpost are advised to be proficient in one or more of the following: firearms, hand-to-hand combat, modern stealth, silence. Leuans Mercenary Outpost is bound by no formal Confederate treaties or laws, instead maintaining a standing fleet to defend its borders with extreme prejudices.

Well, Royce was confident he could at least keep his mouth shut.

Before you go, I’ve marked Sam’s location. Just tell him “I’m new in town,” and he’ll handle the rest.

Fuck.

Further research showed that there was extremely little law enforcement, if any. The man who ran the place, Talon, appeared to be mostly reclusive. There were some news articles about him, but they were a few clicks deep.

>Go deeper, find out what’s up with Talon.
>Call Lynell, tell her how much fun this trip is already!
>Sleep

>>147831
Call lynell, let her know just how great everything isnt.
Knowing just how horrible a person tallon is can wait.

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>>147845
>Call lynell, let her know just how great everything isnt.
>Knowing just how horrible a person tallon is can wait.

Royce leans his head back in the chair, making a quick call.

Don’t you worry, I’ll patch you right through<3

Royce huffed, desperately hoping that once he left the Xaoc system she’d be out of his implant suite.

“Royce?” Lynell picks up almost instantly.
“Hey hun,” Royce sighs, thankful to hear her voice again, “I’m alive!”
“Thank God! I saw you briefly on the news. They were broadcasting the winner of the party’s raffle, and how ‘he was playing the show of his life’ or something like that. It cut off really quick after you turned to talk to the other guy on stage, so I imagine that she jumped in.”
“Yea, she did, and man-alive, am I not happy about that.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m heading to Leuans Colo-”
“WHAT?!” Lynell shrieked, and there was the sound of someone falling, as if through a wall, “Oh dammit, I just woke up the boss. He was napping. But you’re going where?!”
“Leuans Colony,” the dockworker put out with defeat dripping from his voice, “The one Talon runs.”
“That place is like, the worst place for people like us!”
“Relax, I’m only there to say something to a guy, meet some friend of the Matryoshka’s, and then I’m getting the first fuckin’ flight out. I’ll be moving as close to Earth as I possibly can from there, believe you me!”
“That’s more than enough time for me to find you in a black market organ catalog.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

>Comfort her, you’ve been working out
>Admit you’re pretty terrified
>Ask her if she knows anybody in Leuans

>>147869
Admit you're terrified.
Wishing you had a firearm, or any sort of real experience in dealing with the whole "criminal scum" thing. but hey, at least you have a crystal ball you can throw at someone for self defense.

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>>147915
>Admit you're terrified.
>Wishing you had a firearm, or any sort of real experience in dealing with the whole "criminal scum" thing. but hey, at least you have a crystal ball you can throw at someone for self defense.

“Well, I can’t laugh that off, it’s true and that’s the scariest part,” Royce admitted, “Met a Black Scribe. That guy was a psionic, and was trained. I imagine in that nanopack of his there was a solid weapon or twelve.”
“C’mon, this is the same guy who just promised a girl, one he’d just met through sheer dumb luck, that he’d buy her a cup of coffee. You can’t be that scared?”
“I am, though. Only thing I’ve got is some shitty chunk of crystal that smells like family dinner night.”
“Wait, what?”
“I don’t know, some weird trinket the Matryoshka gave me. I could lob it at someone, get ‘em good?”
“There you go. All defended! You’ll be at my place in time for dinner?”

Royce’s hands were shaking, but in this conversation, he felt he could minimize how scary the rest of the world was. She was on the other end of it. He just had to put his feet down. And maybe avoid talking to deranged pop stars.

“You’re making it sound like I’m the bravest guy in the Confederacy, for threatening to throw a shiny rock at someone so I can run away,” Royce laughed.
“To be fair, you’re the only guy I know of that is willing to get face-to-face with the Matryoshka and not cry to momma.”
“I kind of wanted to, but really I was just tired of her antics.”
“See, now you’re ballsier than most. Everyone else talks about how great she was to meet, out of fear she’ll hear them bad-mouth her.”
“You’re joking.”
“Of course.”
“Well, whatever happens on Leuans, I want you to know that a) I’m not a criminal, and b) I love you. Okay?”
“Alright, lover-boy. Though if you call me next, I’m expecting wild tales of how you survived. I’ll keep my eye off the news, so I can hear it from your mouth first. Love you, bye.” she trails off, and Royce smiles.

All he had to do, was give this crystal to whoever the Black Scribe person was. That was it.

>Spread out as best as possible, get a solid snooze
>Sleep can happen later, download those articles about Talon

>>147996
Find out about talon.
You cant know enough about a lawless territory your waltzing into unarmed.

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>>148053
>Find out about talon.
>You cant know enough about a lawless territory your waltzing into unarmed.

Royce let out one sigh of contentment with his lover, then immediately snapped into business mode. He was venturing, after the Matryoshka encounter, into a world that wouldn’t respect his fantasies of backpacking across the Confederacy. Things were crazy. They were entertaining, but crazy.

Downloading as many of the files as possible, making use of the Xaoc system’s improved connectivity, Royce managed to snag a few key articles and three videos. The search wasn’t very conclusive, as the United News Network and its thousands of endorsed websites were determined to clog up the Matryoshka’s branded search engine through sheer numbers.

Strange, though, that she had a search engine that, according to its own claim, only worked in the Xaoc system. A claim that would be tested, Royce realized, when they exited slipspace. The jump was remarkably smooth, which was odd for a passenger vessel.

Focusing, Royce noticed there was a lot of stuff on Talon. He was a “get shit done myself” kind of guy, and he would often personally involve himself in incidents that affected the lives of those who couldn’t cover themselves. Most relevant example of recent news was how he once personally put on overalls to find out what was going on with the station’s water supply. He found there wasn’t anything wrong, but that a local mafia don had been extorting a residential district that had one of the station’s largest hydroponics districts.

An obituary was linked in the article, but the slipspace jump prevented further investigation. Royce wondered, for a moment, if the “lawless Hellhole” was just a ruse? Searching a bit more, Royce found that there was a growing mob problem in the colony. The Black Scribes had recently been cleaning out mafia activity in the Outer Colonies, especially those that were strangling agricultural colonies, and they were running to try setting up shop on Leuans.

Please don’t be in one of these groups, Sam, Royce prayed. He wasn’t a devout follower of any particular faith, but he remembered reading that a little bit of prayer never hurt, On the Progenitor’s armor and all that.

The colony came into view, and Royce noticed that the passenger craft was… A lot smaller than he thought it was. He was on a single row of seats, as opposed to the larger size. Was he on a corvette? There was the snap-forward of exiting the jump, and Royce’s pro-comp reported connectivity. He wasn’t able to hook up with Matryoshka’s search engine, though, but he at least had network connectivity.

Docking now, thank you for your patronage.

>Session 2, as drawn out as it was, is closed. Gonna update the pastebins after I get some rest. Thanks for playing this one, guys! I’ll probably have a new thread this evening, but I’ll update the Twitter (@BlackScribeQM) as soon as I do.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

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