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/qst/ - Quests

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You are Roomba, a Roomba. A roboto, a Fake, a short blonde, and, by the looks of your silly uniform, a very weird cat. This is your first day of work at the Whatever, an awful, almost grim restaurant of which you are the bartender.

Right now, the place is empty. Except for the dust particles bathing under the only working llightbulb, the one from table 11, nothing moves. Makes sense. Day is barely getting started.

You look around. Nothing. You check the recipe book; it's all in your hard drive already. So you yawn, maybe, to follow protocol. Yet your mouth is left gaping as the light dims, since the only real illumation the bar has comes from the main door, and someone is coming your way.

Two horns. Once your customer sits in front of you, a bit to the left, you realize there's almost more horns than body to watch.

"Get me a drink," she says.

You are short, almost, but she's shorter. Pale skin, messy, long black hair, and very casual clothes, yet her black eyes seem to look through yours.

"Can I get you anything in particular?" you offer, smiling at her as you reach for the small menu. "There's-"

"A drink," she retorts, nodding slowly to herself, "now."


>A sweet one? There's the "Muffin Clouds."
>One of the "hard ones"? Maybe the "SharkTeeth"?
>Maybe water? Water is a drink.
"Chocolate milk?"
>>One of the "hard ones"? Maybe the "SharkTeeth"?
She looks like she needs it.
Also, a VA_11 Hall_A quest, holy shit, what's the name of the bar?
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The Whatever, Unlike Val-Halla, though, its a shithole in a dangerous part of town.

Also this is you.

The Broken Horn?
Hoo boy, walking home will be dangerous then, will you roll for encounters?
>Serve her chocolate milk, she is a Hornmother or something like that and they love chocolate.
Nah, expect comfyness. Seriously, this will be all about life and things and dreams and stuff.

She's very de- wait, she's still not dead here.
Is this a safe place amidst all of these quests which murder you with the edges of a dice primed for low rolls?
Yep. You are pretty safe today.
And death, honestly the fact that Toast keeps surviving is amazing. Maybe is because she was programed to be the girlfriend everyone wants?

Heck even that abomination likes her.

Me? I am a paid of headphones turned into a fake who is so acid I keep almost getting killed.

Oh and I got my strength limiter released for some reason. That means that yes those idiots don't want Toast to die yet.

I think I might able to kill a Judge. I mean I checked my internals and what else I could use the molecular scrambler for? Baking?

Yes I am making cookies, cooking calms me. Is that or going suicidal on a rescue mission...

Stupid doomed planet and stupid abominations!
And stupid spell checker, no I don't want to pay to go pro dang it!
Nielly? You don't even exist yet!

Also lets stop the shitposting for a bit and wait for another vote, otherwise people will get mad and everything will be pain.
Make her a "Muffin Cloud" and have the vodka handy. "Take a sip and I'll top it off for you, 'just say when style'. it's hard to balance the flavor without knowing a customers tastes after all!~"

There is no safe part of town in Va11-Hall-A, dystopian cyberpunk bartending remember?... Now I wanna replay Va11-Hall-A.
A mix between hard and soft huh, I like it!
Oh, come on you guys!

Glitch City Is still not nearly as bad as the Second's third floor. And at least Va11HallA had working lightbulbs somewhere.
And a distinct lack of a hard drug problem. And has drinkable water on tap.
Rolled 3 (1d3)

Fuck it, im flippin.
1: Chocolate Milk.
2: Shark Teeth.
3: Muffin Cloud.

Anywhere else down here, at the third floor, "a drink" would be an invitation to get left-over oil or spit in your cracked glass mug. But not here. Not as long as its you behind that bar.

You feel the hornmother's black eyes in the back of your skull as you mix the vainilla extract and sugar in your cocktail shaker, yet as you turn around she's looking somewhere else. Gently, you pour the drink in a small glass in front of her; it's of a healthy brown, under a dense layer of puffy cream. Your smile flickers as she, without even looking at it, grabs the glass and downs it in one go.

Hornmothers like this, at least the ones you get to see, are an usual sight at the Second. Himehorns are always herd animals, genetically coded to live with their own, and have a tremendously hard time getting used to independence.

Yet, somber as she seems, this hornmother seems as collected as you are.

She looks at you in the eyes. "Hey, bartender."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"I want to kill myself."


You open your mouth, but quickly notice that these are the kinds of situations where you'd really rather think than talk. The hornmother grabs the empty glass and attempts a second go, but it's empty so she waits for the drops to fall into her mouth.

>"What should I say?"
Why? Glitch city is a shitty place for living sometimes buuuut...
You told me it was supposed to be comfy, lazyhorns, ye wound me soul
"Don't you want a hug instead?"
Told ya, third floor is way worst than Glitch City.
Still, I promise you guys: no edgy shit, no life-or-death threats, no right or wrong answers. Unfortunately for you guys, people wanting off the ride are... commonplace.
"Oh. If you don't mind me asking... Why?"

Let's save hugs for after we have a good idea if that might make things worse
Rolled 2 (1d2)


1: Hug
2: No hug

Yet someday you would have to talk. It's your job. It's the implicit magic of being a bartender,
hearing everyone's problems and trying your best to give solid advice/get them drunk.

"Oh, if you don't mind me asking... Why?"

The hornmother is still struggling for that last drop, as if struggling with the cracked glass
mug that seems bent on taking her down. Yet she wins, and this time almost smashes the
glass against the table.

"I'm....," she starts, slowly, yet firmly, "very very very very bored." You wait her up to go on; yet
she doesn't seem in a rush to do so. "And I don't see the fun coming this way anytime

"If I may, what is your job?" you ask, assuming that only someone with a job could take bath

"Paperwork. Bureocracy. That kind of thing," she says. "I sign a lot of things. Get yelled a
lot. And when Im done and tired all I do is sleep."

You smile, faintly. "I see. So this is your off day, then."

...She shakes her head. You freeze a bit, and blink a bit more.

"I figured," the hornmother says, giving the empty mug a sad glance, "that since things are
only bound to get worst, I might as well just have as much fun as I can. And it's not fun
there. Not at all. There's all this noise, and tension, and nobody ever wants to take the

"You... missed work, then?"

"No going back now," she giggles, and it sounds dry, and she grabs the mug with her
tiny white hands but its empty. Her eyes gleam a bit as a brown casquade fills it up, even if it's
not that big.

Yet, this time, she even smells the drink. Slowly, she lifts it with both hands towards her
mouth, and tastes the insides as if it was the last.

You just stare at her, feeling a bit sad. It's really not going well, not here, not there. Landing a
job at the third floor would be the same as finding an oasis amidst a nuclear wasteland,
and those who get one care for it with sheer desperation... even without days off, and a 12
hours schedule.

And they feel very grateful about it.

As for you? You are a Fake. You don't need to drink. You could just curl in a corner, plug yourself somewhere, and wait for anything to happen.

Well, they are definitely not going to get better if you just die, if you die then that's it, no more anything.
"Why don't do some work you actually want to do? Or get a hobby?"
"Boredom... Have you thought about what you could do instead? Getting another job from the office isn't likely I'll admit but they aren't the only source of jobs you know. Do you have any skills that might be valuable? An idea for an invention? Good at talking to people perhaps? I think just giving up has to be the most boring solution of them all, particularly if you haven't even tried the others yet"

She's just exhausted and hopeless. Working the definition of a dead end job does that to you, but there are tons of stories filled with people doing just that until they get so fed up with it that they decide to go do something great. It makes their life usually suck far far more in the short term, but if/when they pull it off things end up being pretty awesome for them. In a funny way it is a kind of suicide, you're just killing off that old "self" instead of your body and mind.
"Well, they are definitively not going to get better if you just die, if you die then that's it, no
more anything."

She chuckles. "If 'anything' means going back to that hell then 'nothing' is more than
welcome." And gives it a go.


You wait until she stops drinking. Seems she got careful with her dirnk, this time.

"Why don't you do some work you actually want to do? Or get a hobby?"

...She clearly glares at you. Auch. It's the glare of a very tired little thing, that wasn't ready for
this kind of life. Nobody is, of course, but at least you've got all the time in the world. As for

"Wah...! Sorry!" you quickly blurt out. "I didn't..."

Yet the glare subsides, if even a bit. "I do have a hobby. I like talking. I really really do. I can't
really talk with anyone at work because everyone is in a hurry, and my co-workers don't
have time either, and they really like to talk about themselves."

"Oh, I know about that." You give one little giggle of your own."Half the people I work with
are desperate for compliments, usually in things no one should be proud of... and the
other half hardly ever talks. I worry that, sometimes, im pointing people in the wrong

"I don't want compliments," she says, and she sounds /sad/. "I just want to have fun." The
hornmother looks straight at you, blinking slowly. "Am I greedy?"

Given how things are, it's not so hard to think so... You close your eyes for a bit, digging for
the right words.

"Boredom..." you almost whisper,. "Have you thought about what you could do instead?
Getting another job from the office isn't likely I'll admit, but they aren't the only source of jobs
you know."

She looks away at once, almost brutally. It makes you stop at once and look at her, but
slowly, she looks back at you.

"I tried," she says. "They wanted me to replace another hornmother that was younger than me.
Maybe I should have taken the job."

Your dimly gaping mouth twists into a pleasant, fluid smile.

"Do you have any skills that might be valuable?" you ask.

"I can sleep anywhere."

"An idea for an invention?"

"I made a thing that squishes things inside the trashcan. It saves a lot of space, so I don't
have to get to the streets as often." Her eyes brighten. "That might have just saved my life."

"The less the risk, the better, so I agree," you say. "Good job!"

"Thank you." She nods, once. "It's very easy to make. I can teach you how if you want one."

You nod, too. "We could use one here. It's usually quiet, but it can get... really messy
really fast," you scatch your head, "hmming" yourself. "So are you good at talking to people,

"I'm very good at talking."

"Oh, how so?"

"I can talk a lot. I never get tired of it."

"That's one great way to get good at it, you know."

"I know." Her gaze sinks a bit. "Wish I could do it more."

You place a hand on her head, and stroke gently from side to side. She takes it meekly, closing her eyes a bit, maybe scared.

It seems like she's just lost, not really looking into the suicide, just without any other answers.
Ask if she needs another drink.
"I think," you start, carefully paying attention to her every little reaction as you stroke her head,
"that just giving up has to be the most boring solution of them all, particularly if you haven't
even tried the others yet"

"Which others?" you hear her mumble under your hand.

You usually don't do this. Like, ever. And you aren't sure at all if this is proper bartender
behavior, but its too late, it was always too late for you. You shake a bit; you wonder if, maybe,
she wants you to stop, if she's too shy to ask you to stop it. Once you do, the gentle look of
despair in her eyes is enough for you to get back to work, this time even caressing her
puffy cheeks.

Despite adapting to society, himehorns haven't lost (yet) most of their core attributes, and
shame isn't clearly one of the hornmother's main stats. They just don't care; if they like
something, they go for it. After all, they are used to get pampared to the extreme.

...She seems to be getting a little too much into it, though.

"How about..." you start, slowly, but steady, "um, are you busy?"

She stares at you from under your hand, and you feel like you should take it off. You do, still

"Hey," you smile at her, "would you like to do some bartending with me?" The hornmother
simply stares at you, her eyes a bit wide. "It's still work, haha, but i get to talk people a lot
and you could stay as much as you-"

"Sure," she states, firmly, almost too firmly. "Ok." She pauses. You pause. The silence is
getting a bit awkward. "I don't really have much to do, anymore. And I'm going to die
anyway." She nods fast, and you contain a pout. "So..."

You open the tiny wooden bar-door at your side. She looks at it longly, then simply steps
through it, walks behind you, and sits next to you.

Then she grabs your hand and puts it on her head between her horns, without the least
amout of doubt, shame, or whatever feeling you can come up at the moment.

You just rub.


Door opens. You instantly assume who this is, since from the few regulars the bar has there's
only one with the habit to bang the door open.

The man steadily walks up to the bar, sits in front of you, and loudly, longly, yawns like a
savage. You and the hornmother share a look as he does. Once it's finally over, the man's
face seems like a melting balloon, even if he seems on his early thirties and his body is
doing well.

"The usual," he states.

"Sure!" You blurt out, all bubbly and happy.

A beer. You notice, as you struggle with the tiny glass bottle, that the hornmother is
studying him intently and without care.
Like, staring straight at his eyes with hers wide

The man returns the look, however, in a very calm, almost bored fashion.

"You need a boyfriend or something?" he says, the words sliding from his mouth.

Yet it's like the void absorbed the words. They are..simply staring into each other, very, very
vividly. You blink; this never happens.

>Let it happen. Whatever that is.
>"Here." Give him his drink.
>"Here." Give him his drink.

We want to help her, but we don't want to give bad service, also a barmaid let's people start the talk anyway.

>Pet the Himehorn.
Set his drink down in front of him and see where this goes. We can always jump in if we need to so save her.
That works.

But still pet her.

You set this his drink down in front of him, even making a point for the "clank!" of glass against
wood to be as loud as possible.... and it's lost in the void, too.

The hornmother stares.

The man stares.

You look at her, and then at him, then at her, then at him. As you give up on whatever, you
study the man intently. He's tall; at least a head taller than you, and your head is big. He wears
a BIG leather glass, that has googles over it and is trimming with details. The shapes of his
body are hidden under a dense trench coat of an unhealthy dark brown. To you, it's striking;
it's as if the man was hunting for someone.

Then he burps. Hard, longly; he gets a hand up his heart and burps. No longer towards you, or
the hornmother, but towards the wholety of creation, perhaps in hopes of sharing his gift to
ease the suffering of working men.

...It lasts longer than you expected. Once done, the man is gasping, still grabbing his
chest, but certainly proud.

"Um, !'%&," you say, "there's the beer."

The man lets his body fall over the bar, barely holding himself togueter with his elbow against
the wood. "I know, I'm just... so... fucking... tired, man...!" He chuckles, then laughs. !'%&
raises his eyes towards the hornmother, again, and you almost grimace in shock in fear of the
magnet stare.

But he simply starts talking. "Hey, so I got in a thing with this lady and one day she tells me to
hit her. I tell her, "Woah, hold on over there," because fuck men, it's like... you know? And
she was kinda cool about it, and then she was an angel for a while. Well she still is." He grabs
the drink, and gives it barely a sip, which is unusual for him. "But you know, she keeps
saying it. "Oh daddy, hit me, come on, hit me," or implying it, and man, I don't know what the
fuck to do, she's a really good girl, she studies at the Garden, but what the fuck she has this

The Garden is the Second's second floor. It's the middleman's land, where they work eight
hours a day, five days a week, and get to go drinking with their friends. 85% of the Second's
populace reside in the third floor, 13% in the Garden, and the remaining lucky 2% live at the
Pinnacle, the Second's first floor, most of them working for their masters.

"Do you have a lot of money?" the hornmother asks.

"Eh, I'm not poor," the man says, scratching his head, "but she has more cash than me, being
in the Garden and all."

"Then hit her," the hornmother says. "It's what she wants, maybe after you do it she won't
want it anymore."

"But maaaan, I can't fucking do it," !'%& says, grabbing his head and hat with both hands. "I
don't have the heart for that kind of shit."

"How about, um... hitting her softly?" the hornmother suggests.

"Tried. She even got mad at me."

Her horns turn as she looks at you, her cheeks deflating. "Then there's no other way."

"But what if, you know, it's all a test? "!'%& seems hopeless. "Like, bitches love to test
you, something like "protect me from yourself" or some cruel bullshit like that?"

One of the hornmother's eyebrow rises. "What would you be doing with someone like that in
the first place?"

"Fuck?" !'%& almost asks, almost quizzically.

The hornmother glances at you, and you give quick little smile back. "Is it worthy?"

"You know?" !'%& states loudly, grabbing his mug and giving a decent sip. "I don't know

The silence ends with both of them staring at you, which startles you a bit.

>Yup, another write-in!
"Use a whip, maybe close your eyes while you do it?"

"What? The owner of that fetish shop comes to drink a lot.
"Have you explained to her why you can't? If she doesn't stop after that then I think she's looking for something out of the relationship you aren't looking for, and that's a pretty clear sign you should end it"
Few people actually realize you are shy, since you are almost permanently surrounded by
folks of all shapes and size. You allow yourself to freeze a bit and think things over, going

Finally: "Have you explained to her why you can't?", you say. "If she doesn't stop after that
then I think she's looking for something out of the relationship you aren't looking for, and
that's a pretty clear sign you should end it."


"You could also get a whip," the hornmother intererferes, much to your "D:!". "Just close
your eyes and swing. I have a friend that is into that kind of stuff. You nohorns can be a thing."

This time it's !'%& that pauses. It doesn't last, however. "You'd think so? I dunno, it really
smells like a trap to me."

The hornmother puffs her cheek. "Why would she trap a poor bastard like you or me? She
has to really hate you, men, or mankind altogueter. It's note like she gets anything out
of this."

"Yeah, but maybe I should end the thing." !'%& sighs. "I already told her im not into that, and
she said its ok, but damn, you can tell it's not ok."

The hornmother dims her black eyes a bit, glancing at you."Isn't it kinda... odd, that
someone that nice wants to get hit? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

You hmm. "Maybe she's feels guilty, and wants to be punished for something. That's usually
how that works."

"Hell, that makes sense." !'%& gives it another go. "How do you know?"

You... yeah. Slowly but surely, you blush. The hornmother gives you a troubled look, and then
you witness her and the leather man share one of those looks.

"It's not like that," you state, soundly. They keep looking, though. "It is like that." you sigh,

!'%& whistles. It's always a bit hard to see the face of your customers, since the only realiable
light comes from the outside. Most, however, find the darkness soothing.

And the hornmother grins. "So...."

Eyes fixed on the table, your smile shakes.

>Talk about it. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two.
>Deflect: Talk about !'%&'s things, pour the man a drink.
>Ask the hornmother how she knows so much about this.
>Ask the hornmother how she knows so much about this.

"Some people just... has weird kinks... but there is nothing wrong with that unless you end hurting others... without their permission. I mean... I am a Fake with cat like ears... some people have asked if I can get a cat like tail because they are into that... and if you do not know if you are gonna be alive tomorrow well... why not have fun today?"
>Talk about it. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two.
IIRC we worked in a call center for custom made fake customer service... that might explain some things... might.
We haven't done that yet!

>>1500766 is right, y'know. This is your very first day at work.
Yeah I am not even a pair of headphones yet. Toast and Broken Horn meet in a bar? Fuck I didn't knew they were lovers.
Pretty sure this is the himehorn arma-to-be, we help her decide what to put on her headband.
Yep, that's the one. So 1 for
>Ask the hornmother how she knows so much about this.
and 1 for
>Talk about it. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two.

so what now?!
I think she is actually the Broken Horn leader. I mean talking to people was basically what the Himehorn Support Center was about.
BHL dying was why we where kicked off the greathorn and onto the second though, she's already gone at this point.
Why did Roomba end up in the Second, then?
asdasd. beat me to it.

Shall i dice it?
I thought this was "How Roomba and the Broken Horn Leader meet."

Then BKL hires Roomba and gets that Support Center job.
And you did said that she is not dead yet.
Nah, let me tell ya. BHL was exiled from the herd because of the nature and weight of her past choices (for example, she set the musclehorns to extinction). Leaderhorn convinced the Leader (the smallhorn Leader) to let her stay at the Support Center in order to take advantage of her crude judgement.

Still, she was a mess. Like any other hornmother, of course, she get stuff done by the haremhorn. In order to make her life a bit easier, Leaderhorn asks the Sansuis for a toaster, they keep screaming "MOE!", and that's where Roomba comes from.

Did I? Tell me where, I may have fucked up.
Follow this link.
Well what do you know, I DID fuck up. That's the thing with long hiatuses and bad sleeping, Iwish Roomba would stop fucking the Crunch for at least one little night...
Make this an AU. Were BHL was given paperwork as part of her punishment?

I mean there is more than one fucker playing around with time or this may be one if Toast dreams were she keeps imagining alternate universes... who knows?

Oh some cooking game is popular in the freaks forum? No wonder I cook as a stress relief...
Physics yawns.
"I'm so not reseting the timeline for this shit. Deal with it. In this timeline, the Broken Horn Leader is alive. Get out."

It's almost as if Physics was scowling at you, but looking at her intently reveals she's just very tired.
"It's just another timeline. It's in the past. It just can't be anything else. No, himehorns don't do bureocracy. No, this is not a dream. No, this isn't fuckwaffle's mental forum. Please get out."
"Fine. I will just have to deal with not existing yet."
Rolled 2 (1d2)

Okay so we will hide Toast knowing about kink stuff for now.

Well, you dug your own grave. Might as well make it pretty.

"Well... I used to live down there," you say,, getting a hand behind your head. "At the
Greathorn, with the himehorns."

"No shit," !'%& says, going for his mug. He lifts it so hard he smashes his lip against it. "Awaw,
fuck." He then looks at you; and you look at the hornmother.

Then crack a little smile. "The beer is right under there."

"I didn't order yet," !'%& says, rising a finger. "A beer."

You give him a gentle glare as the hornmother puffs her cheeks, then you handle her the rusty
bottle opener. She crocuhes, and you carefully lean away from her horns- Fake's eyes are
resilient, and very easy to replace, but the pain would still be there. Finally, the hornmother
spawns from the little fridge at your feet, cracks the bottle open too fast, and fills the glass with
a humble yellow waterfall.

"Alright, who did yo fuck?" !'%&'s question is so straightforward it mixes all the thoughts inside
your head.

"I..." you start, and your index fingers are already bouncing against each other. "It wasn't
really that much like that, haha! It was more like-"

"Is that a fucking heart," !'%& says, suddenly frowning.

"That's a heart," the hornmother states.

...It is. Hearts spawn from you every time you think happy things. From the very deepest
corners of your memory, you remember two Sansuis jumping towards each other, high
fiving in the air.

"I-It is! Haha!" your laugh feels a bit too strong. "Is... is that strange? I don't really know many
other Fakes yet, well I know one but-"


...You don't know, and will never know, where the, how, and when did Preah get inside the
bar. Right next to !'%& there's a blue haired Arma, resembling a very tall, very slender
woman without breasts, her body all black, all face very pale, her body infested by highly
technological, yet humble, metallic devices. Over her deep, utterly calm blue eyes and
dead grin, a dense metallic plque hides her forehead- it spells "TRY" in big, black, bold

... she just turns around and leaves. After she leaves, all of you just stare longly at the door.

>Use Preah as the new topic of conversation.
>Get back the rails of the conversation before it's too late, even if its a bit embarrasing.
>Take the chance and change the subject!
>Use Preah as the new topic of conversation.

>Pet the himehorn.
>Use Preah as the new topic of conversation.

>Pet the himehorn.
>Use Preah as the new topic of conversation.

She is the kinda person to derail a conversation just by existing. They don't need to know the details anyways right? Though I get the feeling they'll ask again anyhow...

"...And that's the Fake I know," you say, then shrug, which finally gains back the attention of
both the hornmother and the misterious man.

"You friends with that fuckhead?" !'%& says, which makes your usual smile twist a bit.

You look back at the door. "Oh. Well, im not so sure if 'friends' quite suits our relationship, or if
she thinks of me as a friend. She's... a very interesting person, to say the least, haha."

!'%& goes for the beer, but stops and just stares at it once its at hand. He then looks at
you from under that big hat. "Are you new around here?"

"She is," the hornmother interjects. "I come here from time to time to get wasted, and this
is the first time I've seen her."

"I mean," !'%& says, "to the ship. To the whole ship. To the Second."

Both of them look at you, and you nod. "I've arrived just yesterday."

!'%& looks around, and then bends forward towards you. "Never tell anyone that Preah is a
Fake /and/ an Arma," he almost whispers. "Never." And he sounds serious. "Preah can't
use GOG gas. A lot of people is after her, they want to dismantle her and use the anima she's
made for their own ends." He then glances at the hornmother.

"My lips are sealed," this one replies, nodding quickly a few times. "Bartender's secrecy and
all of that."

You consider saying "What about when you get bored and step out?" but quickly opt against it.

"Good." !'%& nods. "Glad that's sorted out."

"I have to say, though, you are too trusting," the hornmother points out, making you flinch a
bit. "We barely know each other and you are already expecting us to keep a secret that
could kill your friend and makes us millonaries."

"I know," !'%& states, going al in with his second beer. The hornmother fills it again at
once, before you get to tell her the customer has to ask for it, first. "How about blowing both
your brains out if I ever find out you sold her out for cake."

You swallow.

"That's more like it," the hornmother states, drinking a bit from the bottle herself.

"S-so you know Preah too, then! I see!" you blurt out, attempting to bury the previous
exchange under new grass. "I was there at the Support Center when my superior ordered our
Arma to risk her life to save her ship. She was with a friend, Robert, I think that was."

"Guy she's working for now, yeah," !'%& says sharing a slow nod with the hornmother and
getting back into business. "Well, 'with'. We've been traveling abroad the last three months,
now we are taking a break here at the third floor. Not her, though; she likes to move
around," he says, then shrugs, "which is a real contraction, to me. See, Preah is really like a
fat, black cat that goes into the bathroom and cuddles with your leg right as you are taking a
shit. All other times, she barely even hears you."

You think you'd be a bit shocked if you didn't truly, fully understand what he means. The very
few days at the Second, Preah had been turning every single conversation you had with
someone else into an awkward, surreal exchange of glances by doing stuff like
standing over your head, getting between people's legs, grabbing you and taking you
away without a word, and standing between you and the person you are talking to without
saying a word. Of course, to you, that was incredibly rude, until the true nature of the
third-floor denizens had hit you in full force when you realized some of them wanted to
turn you into spare parts for their shops, taking advantage of your lack of experience with the
place. Only once, while you were scolding her, Preah remarked to you that, since you knew
nobody around yet, you had full freedom to assume everyone was nice and caring. She
never told you than that almost got you killed. Instead, Preah patiently awaited for you to find
out on your own.

Once you did, you never doubted her again.

And after all, if someone is enraged by her silly shenanigans, then maybe you are better off
without them. Who knows.

"Hey?" !'%& asks, "You in hibernation mode?"

After all, watching that Fake getting ganged up on a dark alley was proof enough that not
everyone is kind. You recognized, among the crowd with metal bars, the guy who invited you
to have tea at his house.

"Shh, let her think," the hornmother says, getting a hand almost inside !'%&'s mouth.

That's maybe because Preah isn't good at talking with people and, should you have
picked that man over her, it would have been the end of you. She did lead you to that dark
alley, after all. It wasn't pleasant to see, but...

"Preah is," you say, almost out of nowhere, "kind, actually."

"Ooooooooooooooooooooh, am I?" says Preah, her head popping right over !'%&'s.

Even a bit surprised by her appearance, you nod.

"That's nice. It's nice to be nice," and, with that, she turns around and leaves.
!'%& quickly turns around, raises a finger... and gives up. "Why the fuck does she even do that,
like where's the joke in that?"

"I think," you start, slowly, "that she likes to make a point of how easily people are

"Can't believe that makes sense," !'%& says, going again after the cracked glass but this
time taking a gentle sip. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"That's not so wrong, though," the hornmother says, grabbing !'%&'s mug and going for it,
which makes you blink. It surprises you, a little, that her tiny hands can take the full weight of
that mug. Once she leaves it over the wooden table, she finds !'%& staring straight at her.
"Some people are so surrounded by nutjobs that they use manners in a conversation as a
filter. If there's anyone that can't talk like a decent human being or make sense, that that
guy is crazy or stupid, and should be avoided."

You "hmm". "There was this man, he tried to get me to his house right after I landed here
the first time. He didn't seem mean, or crazy."

"To you," she states, with an almost bitter grin. "You don't have your filters developed yet. You
can't tell psycho-fuck from good-guy-cakeist unless someone points it out yo you. To any
Fake around here, getting them out of their usual route is an almost guaranteed death
sentence. There are a lot of people after their jobs, and they hate Fakes to death because
they don't need the money they earn, and yet, once they land the jobs, they suck at them."
The hornmother goes, again, for !'%&'s mug. He meekly lets her have it, even getting a hand
under it to help her lift it to her mouth; she drips a bit of it, because of this.

"...You do seem to know a lot about this," you say, as she takes a deep breath after the
drinking. "How long have you been here?"

"All of my life," the hornmother says, calmly, "well, almost all of it. I was exiled from the
Greathorn when I was very young, and back then it wasn't that hard to land a job since most
of everyone could handle themselves at the Surface. So I did my job, went through hime
abstinence, learned to fend for myself and all... but I still don't have a very good reason to go
through all this," she says, and sighs. "Staying alive was very very hard. I just hope there's a
point to it other than signing papers, drinking, and telling idiots to go fuck themselves. I feel
really useless, you know?"

Your hand goes straight for her head, almost in a rage, almost in divine vengeance for the death
of your brother at the hands of the Dark Lord. And you caress it, very very gently, with love
and care, as if the Broken Horn Leader was never gone and !'%& was tall, blonde, and a manchild douchebag.

"Hey," you hear !'%& say as you pat that wonderful, brave little head, "Ill land each of
you 200mg if you kiss."

You... recall kissing being "a weird nohorn thing", but it had a lot to do with affection. Well,
that can't be bad, then. Or can it?

"Fake x hornmother yuri," you hear the hornmother state, then chuckle. "Now that's a
fetish I've never heard of."

"There are worse things," !'%& states, calmly, yet carefully.

And the hornmother nods, almost as if her neck was freezing. "Very very worst things. You
nohorns make my skin crawl sometimes."

You wait for them to keep on talking and it doesn't happen. You have a feeling that this
could end up badly, somehow. And they are both looking at you now.

>Go for it.
Look at the hornmother and see what she seems to be thinking of this. If she could use the money, well it's just a kiss right? If not then there's no need to make things awkward then.

Mr. Censored is probably just fucking with us anyways.
You study the hornmother's face intently and realize it's not even necessary; she's clearly blushing. Maybe she does know what a kiss mean, even if her attitude betrays that notion. To you, it's kinda funny; she's a himehorn with a nohorn mentality and you are a Fake that has been drowning in horns from day one.

"So if we are gonna kiss or not, how about names? Hi my name is Roomba but some call me Toast because my main function is being a toaster. Not that we have muxh bread around here, and the very dry kind doesn't toast well." *Wink at the hornmother


***We do not suck at our jobs! We just underperform fue to factory specks! And I wonder if I have other limiters removed? I mean once this flashback ends Toast is still gone and we have to rescue her but I don't want to go too soon since that fucks things up and I already baked half a dozen cakes and fuck... I will blow up that damn ship if they brainwashed Toast, world destiny or whatever be dammed... you don't mess with a Fake primary function you bastards!***

>but some call me Toast
You mean you, and that's like, more than a year from now. And why would you wink at someone after saying dry bread doesn't toast well, what kind of nohorn sexual magic am I missing here?

>We do not suck at our jobs! We just underperform fue to factory specks!
No and yes. Fakes are usually very good at jobs that involve precision and constance, while most suck at intellectual tasks because their mental functions got limited by the Sansuis. You'd expect a computer to be awesome at calculating stuff, but Fakes are so well designed they are actually kinda stupid.

>I already baked half a dozen cakes and fuck
Not unless you are Vaal, and that would mean half of those are bright red charcoal burning with the rage of the Elder Demons of Vlamesh.

Aight! Up to you, anon, do I roll with Nyan post or is there something you wanna add?
Nyandemo seems to have a good plan.
We should just ask her if she want to kiss then, wouldn't want to force her into it after all
Aight, ten mins and am postan
>Ask the hornmother if she wants to kiss.

You aren't good under headlights, even if it's this dim and it's just two lost souls. Of course,
you realize, this isn't only your decision.

You turn to the hornmother as fluidly as possible, trying to seem casual. "Do you want

"T-to what?" she asks, and yup, that's a stutter right there.

"Kiss," you clarify a bit blankly. You quickly wonder if you should smile, and you end up
doing anyway for a lack of reasons not to.

Her lips shut tight, the hornmother glances at !'%&. "And how come you've got so much
water to throw away?"

"None of your business," he replies and goes for the beer.

"If you can afford to throw away so much, you shouldn't be here," the hornmother resumes as
if scolding the man. "What do you work as? Tell me, I want in."

"None. Of. Your... naah, fuck it, I'm the current CEO at Evelend."

Evelend being the leader in dealing with the Surface Dweller's scavengers peacefully. They
get a share out of every successful trade the Second has with its scavengers.

"Bullshit," the hornmother warns, warmly.

"It's true," !'%& says.

The hornmother puffs only one cheek. ONE. "Then answer me this, !'/&-"

"!'%&," he says.

"!'%&. Why would anyone in their right mind tell someone, anyone, ever, from the third floor,
that he's filthy rich and can baths in /actual/ water?"

"Hell, no one would," !'%& replies softly, right before banging in a loud "burp" of which he
seems proud. It's odd; the man is handsome, but the manners...

The cheek deflates. "Then why bullshit some little girls at a bar?"

"Because I'm a bad man, with bad thoughts. A man that doesn't fill the ice cube tray when it's
almost empty."

"What's evil about that?"

"Ever had roommates?"

"Once," the hornmother glances at you, but only briefly. "Tried to help someone out of the
shit-pond. But what do you-"

"SO where's my show?" !'%& blurts out, smiling widely.

You notice a drop of sweat cleanly falling from the side of the hornmother's cheek. However,
she does manage to glance at you.

"Oh, you don't have to do this for me. Don't worry about it," she says, barely looking at you.

That's... not the kind of consideration you'd expect from a hornmother. Something feels off
about all this, even if just a little.
Maybe she doesn't want to?

>Go for it.
>Ask again.
>ten mins
Oh, I guess that was a bit MORE than ten minutes. Whatever! I'm here now.
>Ask again.

She didn't say no, but she didn't say yes either.

If she dodges the question again, we should ask her what's going on.
"I really don't mind you know? If you don't want to that's not a problem either. Sorry for putting you on the spot like this though haha~"
Aight. Ten minutes!

"I really don't mind, you know?" you start, softly, as if testing the ground with your feet. "If
you don't want to, that's not a problem either. Sorry for putting you on the spot like this
though haha!"

"What are you sorry for, it's this sick-fuck the one who wants the yuri," she says softly yet
quizzically, and you notice her hand grabbing onto the desk.

"Hey!," !'%& almost shouts, dryly. "This is the sick-fuck that's about to pay your bills, so shut
up and show me some love."

"How the fuck do these things happen," the hornmother wonders towards the galaxy, but
once she finally turns to you, she freezes on the spot like a deer under headlights.

"...You don't mind, then?", she finally musters the bravery to say.

You simply shake your head She... simply stares at you, not moving at all. If you had to
guess, she's, at most, seven years old. Himehorns get smart really fast.

>Go for it.
>Keep asking.
>Go for it.

Very gently. A peck on the cheek. See how she reacts. Also it will screw with !'%&
Seconding this, something chaste should be fine. It seems like she's leaning towards yes.

>Go for it.... gently.

You look at her straight in the black eyes, and smile. It leaves her absort, then you catch her
off-guard with a swift kiss on the cheek that closes one of her eyes. It feels warm.

When you turn to !'%&, the man is looking at the both of you with both fists pumped in front
of his comically open mouth, his eyes shining. The shine fades.

"Aw come on, I'm not paying up for that!"

"You said a kiss," the hornmother points out, "and that was a kiss. You can, of course, walk
away with your cash, but you would have still cheated on two cute ladies anyway." She winks
at you. "Am I right?"

You just "hmh!", cheerfully. !'%& frowns his lips, his finger banging against the table.

"Ffffffffffffine," he says, finally. "You wanna play that game then? With me? With ME?!" !'%&
shakes his head slowly, looking at the hornmother with nothing short of utter, sacred
contempt. "Then I'll up it to 500ml for a FULL KISS WITH EVERYTHING."

"WHAT," the hornmother shouts, one of her eyes twitching.

Slowly, she turns to glance at you... slowly. As if she was about to face a ghost. Once eye
contact is established, she's quick to break it to face !'%&.

"Are you fucking drunk?!" the hornmother manages to interject.


"What the fuck does "EVERYTHING" even mean, asshole?!"

Now it's you that's blushing. And oh nonono... hearts. There are hearts everywhere.

"Tomorrow I'll be either getting shot in the nape or taking a field trip back to the surface with
Preah," !'%& says, suddenly excited, "so ask me if I give a FUCK about getting a hime and a
Fake to fuck each other's brains out. Can't keep cash after death."

"You are way out of your fucking mind," the hornmother says, calmly shaking from feet to
toe, "if you think..."

"A good kiss. Passion. Like the ending of one of those shitty movies," !'%& explains,
carefully, going as far as to gesture with his hands. "Nothing lewd. Nothing creepy. Full on
lovey-lovey love for the old sack of fuck, oh hell yes."

"To think this is your first day at work, right?" the hornmother says, not even looking at you,
and certainly failing to force a giggle.

"Fuck 'gently', it seems", you think to yourself, as they continue to argue....just how much do
they need their haremhorns? Back at the Greathorn, you don't remember the
hornmothers paying any particular attention to anything but themselves (especially their
belly). Did they take them for granted?

>Go for it.

Let them argue for a while. Hornmothers love arguing.

If she wants to, she'll kiss us and we can go with it.
Again Steve has the right idea, at this point I think she gets the idea, so leave it to her to decide
"Only if you want to."

***And that's how Toast became everyone's boat...right?***


"Nonono, just stop, just STOP, and think about it," !'%& says, smiling very widely at the
hornmother. "Look at this from my place for what. You are watching a hornmother, a
himehorn, a thing without even gender, get scared shitless because I'm giving you a full
month worth of dark chocolate-"

"I don't like bitter things," she interjects.

"...to kiss a walking toaster." !'%& finishes, resting his case with one deep sip of his
cracked mug. You wonder just how drunk the man is by now, and if you should do something
about it.

"I'm... I'm not scared," the hornmother says, puffing her chest and going "hmp" mode all of
a sudden. "It's just a kiss, why would anyone be scared?"

"Are you scared, Roomba?" !'%& asks.

You simply shake your head. "I've been living with himehorns for a while. I even had to have
Preah warning me to not walk around naked, haha!"

"How come?" the hornmother asks, her voice suddenly a bit sharp. "How do the himehorns
live in there? I've tried talking to some of the exiles a few times, but their haremhorns almost
don't talk and the hornmothers are retarded."

"They are very.... um...." you suddenly struggle to go on. There must be something inside your
database you could compare it to. "...hive-minded."

"Hive-minded?" the hornmother asks.

"Hive-minded?" !'%& asks, raising an eyebrow.

"It's weird," you start, "but they live for each other. Well, the haremhorns live for the
hornmothers and the hornmothers lay the eggs."

"What do the hornmothers do there besides eggs?" she asks.

"Well, they... not much, haha!" you get a hand behind your nape as if to keep the flashbacks
at bay. "They play a lot, get drunk, fight, argue, smoke from pipes, argue, play card games,
walk around, argue, they nap a lot..."

!'%& raises a finger. "You said 'argue' three times."

"I know."

"So, that's it?" the hornmother seems almost offended. "They just do jack-shit and get cake
and hugs?"

You nod. "Pretty much."

"What the fuck," the hornmother states, slowly shaking her head, her face twisting both in
disgust and envy.

"God damn, where do I get horns?" !'%& says, and finds his mug empty. "You guys are fucking

"I agree," the hornmother says.

You simply nod. "The Broken Horn Leader used to say that most himehorns don't really
think on their own, that they just follow 'the flow' and that they are content. That's why they
aren't that good at dealing with new things."

"Who was that?" the hornmother asks.

"The old leader of the himehorn support center," you start, suddenly wary of not
seeming bitter. "She was a lot like you, now that I think of it!"

"How come?"
"She was bitter," you start, "and very careless with most things. I used to think her emotions
were dampened so she could handle the Support Center, but it turns out she was just
very, very good at keeping her own feelings at bay. And those feelings... were very, very
powerful," and that's it, you failed. That /did/ came out bitter. "...I think, that that was the
heart of her problems. Everyone around thought she didn't care about anything
because the only way to find out just how much she did was getting to know her deeply.
She was just /that/ good at keeping her issues inside, so good that maybe she was angry at
everyone else for not doing the same, for getting angry at little things." And now you are
venting. "She did care, though. A very whole lot." You find yourself looking at nothing in
particular. "Why else would she be there?"

You are quick to notice a silent pact between !'%& and the hornmother to keep quiet, in the
shape of a little nod. As for you, your eyes are unfocused. Quickly picking up, you turn to the
hornmother and pet her.

"Want a drink?" !'%& asks.

"Should I sit there? Haha." You realize it has only been two days since Leader exiled you
from the Greathorn, and it already feels like a past life.

"Sounds like she is quite the fighter," the hornmother says, softly. "Where is she now?"

>Lie. She has enough with her own life, for now, you can tell her about it any other day.
>Tell the truth. You still wonder if you could have done anything about it, and it's eating you from the inside.
>>Tell the truth. You still wonder if you could have done anything about it, and it's eating you from the inside.

So much feels
Goodnight Lazyhorns, Nyandemo, Anons.

I'll catch up in the morning.
Tell the truth I think. Maybe they can help us sort some things out, though at this point they're more playing bartender to us haha!~

>Tell the truth

You open your mouth; nothing comes out. It twists into a smile on its own, a gently, barely
crazy smile.

"She was," you finally say, after a while, and it's like some of your filters went off on their own.
You are not trying to talk all sweet anymore.

The hornmother seems to deflate, even if just a bit, as the man gets the empty mug to his
mouth. "I see," she says. "Do you..."

You nod, firmly. Maybe that wasn't what she was expecting and you are addressing your
inner question instead of her, but regardless, she stops to listen intently.

"The surface can be... a very grim place, sometimes," you start, as your mind gets your
thoughts in a row. "The Broken Horn Leader told me that, after the Rain, there used to be
enough resources for everyone, but that, after a while, everyone ended up scavenging the
same places for food. And fighting. Without enough food around, everyone threw their
kindness away in order to live."

"They never had it to begin with, but yeah," !'%& says, "everything went to shit."

"Sometimes, even through their life was easy, hornmothers wanted to get away from the
Greathorn. It... it sounds silly, but it did happen. In order to keep track of the angry
hornmothers, and to get them back once they realized just how bad things were out there,
Leaderhorn created the Himehorn Support Center. That's the excuse, at least," you glance
at the hornmother, you think she looks cute despite her messy hair, "but I think, and I'm
very sure, that, since the Broken Horn Leader was about to be exiled, Leaderhorn wanted an
excuse to keep her near, and that's why she made the Support Center. And that's when it
happened," you grin, widely, "out of nowhere, she started helping everyone. Anyone who
needed it. Even mean people, who, later, came back to help her more than once. Out of
nowhere, the Himehorn Support Center became very important for everyone. And
everyone wanted a part on it." Your smile couldn't get bigger. "The mastermind behind so
much love and kindness was the coldest, most calculating being I've ever met, even if that isn't
saying much. She was all about numbers; people, to her, were numbers, and she tried to
keep the numbers high. I remember that one time she intercepted a ship trying to blow itself
up, it had a family inside and, since she wasn't authorized to send White, she... went on her
own. She... boarded a ship about to be blown out, and managed to stop it. I found out thanks
to Leaderhorn since was so quiet about her past... but that was just the start. It-"

"When do YOU come into the story?" the hornmother asks, and she's smiling, too. "I
already like her."

"Actually, I've met the fuck," you both turn towards !'%&, you with your mouth wide open,
"that was before you joined."

"A-are you sure?" you ask.

"One of her horns has a silver stick across, right?"


He nods. "Coldest little bitch I've ever spoken to."

"'I do not seek forgiveness. I do not seek to be rich. All I want is to do is my god damned job.'"
!'%& says, smiling at you. "Does that ring a bell?"

"N-no, but it does sound like something she'd say."

"Come here."

You look at the man under the hat and hesitate. Wouldn't it be bad if your boss came
and saw you? Then again, he did say he'd return in five hours, which was really
irresponsible given it's your first day...

And before you notice it, !'%& is now the bartender. The hornmother is sitting next to
you, even if she wasn't asked to.

"So, what do I get you?" !'%& asks.

You smile. "A Muffin Cloud, please."

He reads the manual and swiftly gets to work. Surprisingly, !'%& shakes the cocktail shaker in
a classy way, even going as far as to throw from his back all over his shoulder, and then
grabbing it with the same hand. Soon, the brown, caramel liquid is in a small glass in front
of you and then buried under a dense layer of white cream.

"Nice, that was so great!" You clap at him, and the hornmother follows. he simply bows.

"Feel a little less gloom? See if that helps, then," he says, and you oblige by taking a sip.
It... didn't come out perfect, but you'd rather not say a word and simply smile at him. "Alright, so
let me tell you all about it. And let me be a bit vague."

"I was chasing this guy at the surface and he sent a distress call right as I infiltrated his ship.
I was talking to him and then a voice replied from the radio, telling me to put the poor guy
over. I oblige; to me, that guy was dead anyway. So he starts talking and the voice from
the other side had him explain to her every single detail of why he was about to get his
brains scattered across the keyboard. So, crying and everything, the guy all about how he
became an anima junkie and how he couldn't help it, that he was going to change and all
that, that he was sorry about what he did at that store. Guy was begging for a second
chance, really hard; I even got second thoughts about the whole thing myself. In the
end, after he ends his story, she asks him a few more questions, says "I see" a couple of
times and then asks me, very politely, to blow his brains out. Guy screams, I shoot, and then
I'm kinda "woah"... so we talk. Her point was, he truly believed the guy wanted to change
and all, even that it wasn't his fault he became an addict. Yet that, despite the guy being a
casualty of very bad luck, he was still dangerous for the whole rest of the world and,
since anima addiction was so unpredictable, she felt that letting him suffer his life was way
more cruel turning his cockpit into a mess." !'%& shrugs."Anyway, the bullet went through
his brain and straight into the cockpit. I was stuck inside a ship stuck in hovermode; so I
was fucked. I told the radio, it asked me what model the ship was, I said it was an IVA
NOVUS SI, and it died there. An hour later, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw, at a
distance, a hornmother over a hovercraft five times the size of her. The little fuck brought
with her a blue box filled with tools that she couldn't lift and a map with schematics she
didn't understand. We spent six hours figuring out the manual, fixing the ship, cleaning guts,
and talking. In the end, she told me that, if I didn't quit the Witch Hunters, she was bound to
personally hunt me down to shove a gun inside each of my nostrils, and she was staring right
into my eyes as she said so. So I quit." !'%& shrugs. "I didn't actually believe her, it's just
that I realized that, if I wasn't as cold as her, then I clearly wasn't the man for the job. She
even gave me the ship so I could start fresh, and I didn't tell her I was rich because I was
curious, I wanted to see if she was serious. Well, she really fucking was, yeah. Thing is, back then nobody was backing her up, so she had to make a difference on her own."

!'%& grabs a beer for himself and cracks it open, then puts it back in the fridge and goes for a glass of water.

"Any questions?"

You turn to your side; the hornmother has her eyes wide open.
"I was basically her nanny, nurse, caretaker and emotional support. She... she showed me the emotions she couldn't show anyone else. And... she is the reason I am still alive."

***Damn Toast, who are you? Fake Jesus? That's it once the flashback is over we are rescuing you even if I have to blow up that damn ship! Now were I do get the chemicals to make Azidoazide Azide?***
"Did you do any missions for her?"
"She was cold, but she wasn't always cruel was she?"

"Did you do any missions for her?"

"Nah," !'%& replies, at once. "I try to stay as away as I can from the surface, that place is
hell. Even if the Second is starting to look pretty bleak, too."

"Why do they call her like that? The broken horn Leader?" the hornmother asks, intrigued.
"I know who she is, but isn't there a shorter nickname or something?"

You glance at her. "One of my friends said once that, thanks to her, 'broken horned'
became sort of a figurative speech among himehorns. I don't remember Leaderhorn ever
calling her a particular name, either. Was... I mean, she was cold, but sh wasn't always
cruel was she?"

!'%& shrugs. "You'd know better than me. But I tell you what; cruel people want to see people
suffer. She wasn't cruel; she was cold. That's how I see it, anyway."

"I guess the rumors were true, then," you start, somewhat sad. "About all the awful things she

"Like what?" the hornmother asks.

"The hornmother would talk, sometimes, about what happened before they got into the
Greathorn. They say there used to be another kind of himehorns, the musclehorns, but that
the Broken Horn Leader caused their extintion."

"...woah," !'%& states, firmly, finding his mug empty but taking it to his mouth anyway. "This
bartender shit is some shit." You both turn to look at him. "Well come one, one thing is
downing one fuck and the other is wiping a whole race from existance."

"I call bullshit," the hornmother says. "I want a beer, too."

"Sure, call bullshit all you like. You've never met her." !'%& gets a bottle from below, takes
off the cap between his thumb and index finger, and fills another crappy mug with it. "Times
like this, we live among legends. That's one thing I can salvage from this dull wreck of a
world. So few remain that you could be having a beer with someone who went down in the
books of history, and not even notice." He nods, and nods. "The few that remain are the
strongest. Not only in mind and spirit; you just can't live your life in peace if you can't sink a
fuck on your own."

"Unless you work 12 hours a day without weekends," the hornmother points out, smiling
very widely and very bitterly. "Trust me, I can't down a fuck."

!'%& glances at her, then remembers to pour her drink. "I dunno, you could skewer my ass
with those horns."

"I don't want to," the hornmother almost sings, and drinks. "I don't want anything to do with all
of this violence."

"You'd rather get trampled over?"

"Yes. Is that stupid?"


"I don't think so," the hornmother's smile, this time, is sharp. "I'd rather keep my conscience
clean than my stomach full. If that makes me a coward, so fucking be it, I'll die peacefully."

"You'll die," !'%& warns.

"I know," the hornmother replies, softly, and goes back to her drink.

It takes a while for her to put the big mug down, but once she does, the smile on her
face shines like the sunrise.

You giggle. "That's very 'hornmotherly', you know?"

"Fuck them, fuck Leader, and the Greathorn too," the smile on her face lingers for just a
while longer, even after she cleans her mouth with a sleeve.

"Come on now, what did they ever do to you?" !'%& says, and you are a bit surprised to find
she's stepping out of the bar on his own. "Alrighty, gotta go. Try not to miss me."

"I'll do my best." the hornmother says... then pauses. "It... it was fun," she finally admits, not
looking at him.

"Good luck, !'%&!" you blurt out, almost happy. "Do your best!"

He waves a hand back right as he leaves, shrouding the whole bar in darkness for one
second. Once he's out, you cross the bar and regain your job title as "ROBOTO NEKOMIMI
BARTENDER", as the hornmother gives her beer another sip. You just look at her in silence
as she does, and once the mug goes down she gets a little startled to find you watching.
You simply pat the little black chair next to you, and it's only then that she rushes around the
bar and sits next to you.

To your suprise, however, she's not saying a word. And you thought she liked to talk. Hmm,
maybe she does...

>What should I talk about with her?
Crap, I missed this post.
”Say, if you had Liters and liters of water like !'%&! seems to, then what would you do?"
"We did kiss, will he pay us?"

***I hope the bastard ended paying them. Now who is going to the rescue mission?***

"Say, if you had liters and liters of water like !'%& seems to, then what would you do?"

"Maybe I'd live like a proper hornmother, but... only if I've earned all that water," she says,
calmly looking at you. "Otherwise, I'd try to take anyone else out of this shitshow. Anyone good
enough; some people deserve this hell." That last sentence came out particularly bitter.

"We did kiss, will he pay us?"


You both stare straight into each other's eyes; slowly, it dawns on you that this is a job, and
that customers people have to pay for their drinks.

"Um... he did pay, did he?" You ask.


You both look around for a bill, or a coin, any kind of token for the Garden's Vault. Except for
the empty mugs, there's nothing over the table.

You sigh. "Maybe he forgot."

"He was kind of drunk, yeah," the hornmother adds, pensively, "and I think that's part of your


"Hey, maybe he wasn't lying, then," the hornmother points out, maybe to cherish you
up. "Maybe he cares so little about cash that he forgot to pay us!"

That, or he actually cares a lot.

>Hmm, nobody is coming in yet.
"We are telling his boss that he skipped paying. Or I am telling Preah... thankfully I have everything recorded."

***Does she mean the Bar cameras or herself? Well every bar out there has the sign that you are being filmed nowadays. No I don't care that guy is supposedly too heavy for a Fake, I am taking it anyway! And be careful with that suitcase, if the chemicals mix up it will set everything on fire, then explode, then set the exploded things on fire them explode again!***
"Do you think you could find him perhaps? If can't it's OK, I can just pay for our drinks and have a talk with him about paying bills the next time he shows up"

"Do you think you could find him perhaps? If you can't it's OK, I can just pay for our drinks
and have a talk with him about paying his bills the next time he shows up."

She looks at you funny and shrugs. "I know the guy as much as you, you know."

"We are telling his boss that he skipped paying. Or I'm telling Preah... thankfully I have
everything recorded."

"His boss?"

"Did I say that?" you say, a bit startled.

"You just did."

"Who's !'%&'s boss?"

"Maybe someone at Evelend? Fuck If I know. You said it, not me." She tilts her head and
horns dramatically to look at you, so, instead of staring at her from the side, you turn your face

"Are you ok?" she says, a bit more softly than politeness marks. "It's just a few bucks, I can
pay for him."

The first time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. The second... "But..."

"Cash is not my problem. I can afford a few luxuries; it's just not enough to get out," she
says, more than somewhat somberly. "I earn more than average, it's just that I can't save
because prices keep going up so the rest of my money can only go to bullshit little trinkets
or food. Maybe that's how this economy sustains itself; you just can't get out."

"Is it really that hard to get into the Garden?"

"Without a friend up there?" she shakes her horns and head. "They don't want us there. We
stink. We are angry. The last they want is someone going up there to change things.
They already have it hard enough fucking everyone else to stay there. It's insane."

The bar goes dark, and that can only mean one thing. You both look up both it's only one
big shadow, standing at the entrance. It walks to the bar, slowly, it's shape gaining form and
color with each step.

It's only when it's right in front of you that you realize that big pirate hat is half the shadow.

"What is this place?" a young woman asks, a few decibels above the usual. Deep blue hair,
big eyes petite, and a large bosom over her crossed arms.

"A bar," the hornmother quickly replies. "What does it look like?"

Her eyes frown at once, sparking.

"A DEN OF DARK EVIL," she states, fiercely, and your hands tremble to cover your ears.
"That's what it looks like!"

You are a Fake. You don't really need the ears. And, thankfully, you can manipulate the flow of
sound into your system. It's almost worth all the hate you get.

The hornmother glances at you, swiftly. "Is it?"

"Not... no?" you stutter to answer, suddenly urged to look around. It... it kinda /does/ seem
like how you'd picture a den of dark evil if you read the words in a book. "I'm not evil," you
quickly add, almost scoldingly, "and it's just my first day, so..."

"SO YOU ARE FIRST DAY EVIL," the girl, barely taller than you, yells. "DO YOU DRAW

"Please," the hornmother asks, fully and, shamelessly, covering her ears, "pleaase!!"

The woman opens her mouth, but it seems she gets the point. Silence feels heavier than usual.

It gives you time to study the woman intently. She's... barely taller than you, which is saying
a lot since you were designed to seem as harmless as possible (which means that little
kids can be scary). Her hair is of a deep blue, her angry stare feels comical, she's pouting,
there's a very notorious pirate hat over her head, two dense strands of hair fall from the
sides of her face and cover her ears... you notice one of her eyebrows rise. The woman
wears, just ike !'%&, a trenchcoat over her body, but this one is silver, goes as far as her
elbows, and-

"And what are YOU looking at?" she wonders loudly, her whole face twisting in mild worry.

>"H-hello! What can I get you?"
>"I-I think you look cute!
>"I think one of your buttons is missing."
>Smile sharply, strike a pose. "This ends now."
>Write in.
"Oh um, Would you like something to drink? I'm Roomba, well Roomba-*nyan* at the moment haha!~"
"Are you !'%&'s boss? He skipped paying and owes us money for a bet he did."
"Oh um, would you like something to drink? I'm Roomba, well Roomba-nyan at the moment

The girl looks at you, then blinks once.

Then her eyebrows rise. "BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"

The hornmother grumbles in silence. "It means that she's called... Roomba?" The
hornmother asks, then straightens her head, then looks at you from the side. "Like one of
those things that move and clean?"

"That's right," you reply, almost eagerly. "I move, and clean. I won't move much now
though, haha."

"But what is a nyan?" blue strands asks.

"It's an anime," the hornmother explains, "it's what the cats say when they talk."

The woman glances at you. "Meow?"

"Nyan!" you correct, happy, rising a downed hand like a paw.

"I don't get it," the woman admits, defeated, and finally in adequate volume. Until her eyes

"Yes! Yes, it is!" the hornmother points out, excited.

As the skull drawn on the pirate hat slowly turns to face you, you decide that the
hornmother didn't think her words carefully.


"A-are you !'%&'s boss? He skipped paying and owes us money for a bet he did."

"!'$%?" the woman asks.

"!'%&," the hornmother corrects.

"Who is that, is he evil?" she asks, and you feel your internal speaker adapting.

"Just a guy with a fetish," the hornmother says. She stops, and you notice her eyes wandering
towards the top of her head as if looking for something inside of it. "Do you have a fetish?
Cat ears are a fetish. Horns too. You wouldn't believe the kind of treatment I get sometimes."

"Fetish?" The woman asks, loudly, as if the word was something out of this world. You can
/feel/ her inner cogs twitching and spinning, and the process finally concludes with a small

"Oh, you wouldn't fucking believe," the hornmother states, her voice so dramatic that
you wonder if she's acting to be a good host. "What can I get you?"

The woman raises an eyebrow.

"This is a bar," the hornmother rushes to state.

You feel the wheels and cog turn again. It feels... somewhat foreboding. Like something
you shouldn't be able to do.

"Who's !'%&?" she asks, finally.

"It's a man, who dresses a lot like you," you say. "He was here earlier, drinking, and-"

"-trying to get us to kiss-"

"-and his clothes looked a lot like yours, so I thought that maybe there was a connection,"
you finish, getting a hand behind your head and almost forcing a smile.

The woman looks at her clothes, and that's when you notice the thick, utter dark, clean
layer of black covering all of her skin under the chin.
"These are LF's clothes. I'm an LF," she states, as if worried. "That man was an LF, then. We
like to have a lot of pockets, we need to compliment our close-quarters style with things
that let us get near. Like smoke-bombs!" That one last word seems to have made her
particularly giddy as if smoke-bombs turned everything into chocolate. Finally, her cogs get
back to work, and this time it ends in a confused stare right at you. "But I don't have a

"Are you, by any chance, a hero of good and justice?" the hornmother asks while pouring
beer into a mug and leaving it in front of the blue-haired lady. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a mission!" she states, her eyes shining brightly.

The hornmother nods, hmming. "How much does that mission have to do with defeating the
forces of evil?"


"And where's the evil?"

"HERE?" she asks, suddenly a bit confused.

The hornmother glances at you. Just who... why would... is she lost?

>What is going on with this customer? Maybe she needs some orientation?
"So you have to kill someone who visits this bar regulary or something? Do you want to pet my cat ears?"
"I'm sorry but I don't think we have any evil here, at least not right now. It's just this hornmother and I at the moment though if you'd like to stay here for a bit and see if any evil shows up you're welcome to!~"
The silence lasts just a bit longer.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think we have any evil
here, at least not right now," you state, with a polite smile. "It's just this hornmother and me at
the moment, though, if you'd like to stay here for a bit and see if any evil shows up you're
welcome to!"

The woman, eyes wide open, leans towards you, then looks around, then turns around, and
then finally looks back at you after what seemed like an odd dance.

"...So no evil?" She asks, genuinely confused.

You both shake your heads, at the same time, from the same direction.

"No evil," the hornmother says, "just tired people."

Well, you aren't tired, you /can't/ be tired, but oh well. The woman looks at her, then at you,
then simply lets her body fall on the black, ragged stool. She says nothing and just looks
at you, which is starting to feel awkward.

"Don't worry, I'm sure some evil will come, sooner or later," the hornmother says, then

"So you have to kill someone who visits this bar regularly or something? Do you want to pet
my cat ears?" you think to yourself, then shake your head like a golden retriever.

Black eyes glance at you. "What's wrong?"



"No!" You both shout at once.

Her sudden, for-some-reason cheerful smile fades under the stares.

"Drink," the hornmother says, pointing at the beer.


"So is crushing my ears. Drink! It's on me."

She frowns. "FREEBIES ARE EVIL!"

"You have a very interesting moral compass," the hornmother points out, almost gnashing
her teeth. "At tell us a story or something."

"If you want to," you rush to add.

Her face twists into... a gentle, wide smile. "Do you think I'm interesting?"

It takes the hornmother five seconds to shoot you a worried glance. Hmm...

>"I think you are!"
>"Not at all!"
>It's going to be a write-in anyway.
>It's going to be a write-in anyway.
"I love learning all about people!~ I'm sure someone like you has all kinds of interesting stories to tell <3"
>"I think you are! But please stop shouting."

"I think you are! But please stop shouting."

"OK," she shouts, a hint of guilt flashing across her face.

The next few seconds, nobody talks.


"I love learning all about people! I'm sure someone like you has all kinds of interesting
stories to tell," you say as cheerfully as you can, and adding a wink to the mix.

"OF COURSE. I AM VERY INTERESTING," the woman says, smiling with her eyes closed
as she puffs her chest proudly. "Ask away!"

"How about you tell us a story?" the hornmother asks, one of her white hands
already near her ear.

"About me?"

"Yes. Why do you hate evil so much?"

The woman frowns and pouts at the same time. "BECAUSE EVIL IS EVIL."

"I... I think you are right," the hornmother hurries to nod frantically. "Please lower your

"Sorry!" and yet, It's loud.

The hornmother sighs.

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask the woman, who glances at you.

"Water," she says. "It's very healthy."

It makes you wonder. While water is, actually, a currency in itself (and also the single most
expensive drink here), it's represented by these tokens which grant access to the
massive deposit at the bank, which is currently being refilled and renewed. It's kind as if you
were the bank right now, and she was making a withdrawn.

Anything, you pour some water into a glass without giving it that much more thought. You
don't need it. So you give it away with a smile.

"Thank you," she says, politely, then remember to fumble through her trenchcoat for the coins.
It takes her a while, but hey, it's a big leap from the last customer.

"Where are you from?" you ask, suddenly aware of how little you know of everything.
"And... what are you? I'm kinda new to the whole thing, haha."

"Are you a Fake?" she asks casually.

"Can't you tell? There's some static left when she talks," the hornmother points out. "It's like
you are even newer than her to the whole thing. What are you?"

The woman blinks a few times, then remembers to puff her chest. "I'm Heather! I'm
a Nitrolich! And I'm a hero of Good and Justice!"

The hornmother shoots a glance at you, then back at her. "Really? Is this what a nitrolich
looks like?"


"Why don't you make yourself taller then?"

...This leaves Heather wondering. It ends, however, with her cheeks deflating as she looks away.

"I'm perfectly adjusted for my proportions. I, Heather, don't need even an inch more of
flesh!" She strikes a pose, looking away with her eyes closed with a smile, as her blue hair

The hornmother squints. "Are you really a nitrolich?"


"I don't believe you."

"I don't care!"

"Lying is evil," the hornmother points out, "you know."

This breaks her pose. "I'M NOT EVIL!"


>"You are."
>"You aren't."
>Evil write in.
I have no idea what a Nitrolich is at this point... Let's just take her word on it for now. Or maybe the hornmother will get it sorted out.

A Nitrolich limit fighter though... That seems both awesome and expensive as fuck.
"Do you wanna pet the hornmother."
You "hmm" quietly, consider the current situation to the fullest of your ability. You don't
know what a nitrolich is, or what that implies, or what they eat, and somehow you feel it's not
polite to ask her. So, plan B.

"Do you wanna pet the hornmother?" you ask the nitrolich, eagerly.



Well, you are already knee deep in the pool. Even though you can't drown because you are
a Fake. "Do you wanna pet the hornmother? I think you'd both like it!"

"What the hell do you mean, we don't even know each other," the hornmother rushes a bit
too much to say, her eyes darting between you and Heather.

You nod, and nod, and then raise a finger. "Is sadness evil?"

"YES," Heather booms, drowning the hornmother's words.

You point at the horns. "She's sad, you know?"

"I'm not... sad? I'm just..." she's talking to herself by now. "Besides...!"
Too late. You follow the hand that's caressing the hornmother's head between her horns, and
it leads you to a Heather that's kneeling over the black stool, her breasts cascading all over
the table. She seems to be paying a lot of attention to the himehorn's face as if carefully
defusing a bomb with wires of ten different colors. The hornmother, unfortunately, is silent.

"IS THIS- is this working?" Heather asks, looking at you with intent.

You look at the hornmother, whose eyes are closed. Her white hand is grabbing firmly onto
the chair, and she's not making a sound.

>"It's working."
>"It's not working."
>It's working but I think you should be more gentle."
"A little gentler maybe? I can tell you're working in the quiet part of things"
"It's working, but...

...a little gentler maybe? I can tell you're working in the quiet part of things."


"Shhh!" You get your index over your lips.

Heather opens her mouth, then closes it, her hand still sliding back and forth over the
hornmother's head. She has lost some speed. You giggle. As for the hornmother, the
himehorn looks as if she was about to say something, but could never quite finish
choosing her words.

"Alright, enough," and she finally does it, taking Heather's hand off her head. "This is getting
TOO embarrassing," she states, a bit TOO firmly.

"DID I WIN?" Heather asks.

"Yeah, yeah, you won," the hornmother almost grumbles, shifting her butt on the chair as if
she was uncomfortable. Watching a hornmother in jeans and shirt is still quite the
sight to you; it means anything can happen. "I still can't swallow that you are a nitrolich," she
resumes, waving her fringe off her forehead. "You really are an odd character, you know?
Where are you from, the Fausto Vinland?"

"YES," she states brightly... then frowns. "Wait, how did you know that?!"

"That's where all the nitroliches come from," and now it's the hornmother that's frowning.
"It's like their capital ship."

Heather's frown lightens. "Ah." She looks away; then back at her. "So you aren't a spy or


"Ok," Heather says, and gets quiet.

And now it's the hornmother the one that's getting a beer for herself. Hmm, well, it's your
job to keep the train going after all, and you've been so silent...

>"What should we talk about?"
"So... do you girls want to hear a story? I got losts of stories about the Broken Horn leader, and a lot of some weird calls."
"So what's Fausto Vinland like then? I've never been anywhere but the Greathorn and the Second myself!~"
"So, what's Faust Vinland like then? I've never been anywhere but the Greathorn and the
Second myself!"

"It's a meat-ship. A ship made of meat," Heather says, her eyes wandering up as if
wondering if she said the same thing twice. "Is that really that weird?"

"...explain," the hornmother asks.

"The Fausto Vinland is a nitrolich, too," Heather says, blinking as if worried about
something. "A big, very big nitrolich. It has a heart, it has lungs, it breathes, it gets angry,
and it can be a little bitch sometimes. That's what I mean."

The hornmother swallows. "Wait. How do the insides of that... thing... look like?"

"Good?" Heather shrugs. "It looks better than this one."

"But, is there... is it... are the floors made of meat or something? Are there guts every- fuck,
wait," the hornmother stops, suddenly grabbing her stomach with serious intent as her eyes get
wide open. She gags, as Heather simply stares quizzically.

Without a word, you take the nearest empty bucket and put it near her face. "Are you

"Is she?" Heather asks.

"I'm fucking fine, don't worry," the hornmother says, shoving the bucket aside. "Let's just talk
about something else."


You hurry to comply. "So... do you girls want to hear a story? I got lots of stories about the
broken horn Leader, and a lot of some weird calls."

"ARE THERE NITROLICHES IN THEM?" Heather asks as she leans forward, suddenly
very eager.

The hornmother snags the bucket from your hands then gives Heather one carefully crafted
glare. This gets the nitrolich's inner cogs spinning, but it seems that to no end.

"Oh, no," you say, your hands orbiting the hornmother without much purpose. "We
hadn't met one of those before. But there was this hornmother, this one time, and she was
going in reverse-"

"THAT WAS ME," Heather shouts, startling you. Carefully, the hornmother grabs the empty
bucket, leans forward, takes off the pirate hat, carefully puts it in your head and, to your
humble horror, covers Heather's head with the bucket. Neither the nitrolich nor the hornmother
move, until Heather tries to find her face and fails.

"I CAN'T SEE," the words echo from somewhere, maybe far, maybe near, maybe
from somewhere better.

You hurry to take the bucket off Heather's face, but she doesn't seem that bothered by the
whole thing. Until...

Heather frowns. "WAS THAT EVIL?"

"Is busting ears evil?" the hornmother rushes to retort, dryly.

"So it was you then!" Heather states in bursts, all of her attention focused on the hornmother
as she points at her with her whole arm. "YOU dented my ship."

"I've never even BEEN down there, what the hell are you talking about!" the hornmother
yells, flinging her arms wildly.

"LYING IS EVIL!" she bends forwards.

"I'm not lying, I was born here!" and she shrinks into her seat, shooting glances at you.

Your eyes dart between one and the other. What... what is she talking about?

>Wait, do I know what's going on?
"I'm pretty sure you're thinking of someone else, when she called us she hadn't run into anyone yet but wanted to know how to get the ship to go forwards instead of backwards... Obviously she had never flown before so we where mostly just trying to keep her from messing with things any more until a harem-horn could distract her. Broken horn leader had other plans though, can't waste time waiting on a haremhorn coming around so she jsut told the hornmother that the emergency hover mode lock was the drive mode and that solved that haha!~ Kinda mean I admit, but in the end it was for the best. No one got hurt or ran out of fuel so a little lie ends up being OK right?"
"I'm pretty sure you're thinking of someone else, when she called us she hadn't run into
anyone yet but wanted to know how to get the ship to go forwards instead of backward...
Obviously she had never flown before so we where mostly just trying to keep her from
messing with things any more until a harem-horn could distract her. Broken horn leader had
other plans though, can't waste time waiting on a haremhorn coming around so she just told
the hornmother that the emergency hover mode lock was the drive mode and that solved
that haha!~ Kinda mean I admit, but in the end, it was for the best. No one got hurt or ran out
of fuel so a little lie ends up being OK right?"

"LIAR!" Heather shouts, standing from the chair and pointing straight at your face. "YOU

You... just stare at the hornmother, smiling with your mouth open, then tilt your head to the
side. The hornmother looks at you, then at Heather... and carefully fills a mug with beer
that slides across the table.

Heather picks it up, and drinks. Then almost smashes it down. "Her... she!," she says,
pointing at the hornmother, "didn't want to go forward. She thought she was. Liar!" Heather
waves a hand in front of her fringe to make it spin as she looks away from you in a grand
manner, then looks at you in an "hmp!" manner. "Nobody stopped anything! That ship crashed
with mine! And nobody gave me anything in return, they even sent an Arma to make to
scare me!" Heather pauses, and even though she's still looking at you with that same frown
you can actually /hear/ her cogs moving. "So it was you! You were the of the card! That means
that..." her cogs turn, and she finally smiles.... but then the smile vanishes. "Wait, did you get
fired over that?"

"What the fuck is going on?" the hornmother asks, suddenly shooting suspicious glances at

>What's going on?
"Oh... I'm sorry! Wejust don't have any budget really, only what we could trade so we couldn't really afford... I'm sorry!..."

"Though I wasn't exiled for that. That's another story entirely..."
"I got fired because the Broken Horn leader was killed by a mean bitch who looks like a little girl..."
You gasp, getting both hands to your mouth. "Oh... I'm sorry! We just don't have any budget
really, only what we could trade so we couldn't really afford... I'm sorry!..."

"NO MORE LIES! YOU AREN'T SORRY!" Heather shouts, smiling wildly. "YOU WERE
brought you to justice and had you EXILED!" She says this with both hands on her waists,
giving away one big smile. "AND I"

She barely just stops as she sees you cry. More than stop, she freezes up entirely. The
next thing you notice is her face a bit too close to yours, it seems she's leaning from the stool

"Are you ok?" Heather says. "Making people cry is evil, so please don't cry or I'll be evil.

"You are a weird one, you know?" you hear the hornmother say at the distance."

"Sorry, I'm just... it's all so new," you manage to say, almost mumbling. "Though I wasn't
exiled for that. That's another story entirely..."

You notice both Heather and the hornmother share a /look/.

"Wanna tell us about it?" Heather says, loudly.

>..."I'd rather not I'm still dealing with... everything."
>..."I'd rather not
It would just be me blaming myself anyways, and that's not very fun to listen to at all."
..."I'd rather not," you say, sliding a sleeve over your not a bit reddish face. "It would just be
blaming myself anyways, and that's not very fun to listen to at all."

"But, sadness is evil. And we have to fight evil," Heather says, in an actually soothing tone
of voice... still leaning towards you from her stool. "You said so yourself, didn't you? So why
are you sad?"

"How about you pat her?" the hornmother suggest, with a tiny quirky smile.

"It didn't work with you," Heather admits, a bit dejectedly, "so it's time to switch our tactics."

The hornmother opens her mouth but says nothing. Instead, she quietly pushes Heather
back to her stool, and she complies.

"I was exiled too," Heather says loudly, and that gets your eyes open. You look at her, and
the hornmother looks at her, yet she seems casual. "That's how a nitrolich ends up in the
surface. If I tell you about it, you tell me about it. Ok?"

The hornmother glances at you.


"Okay... you first."
The Sansuis cross your mind for a split second; they truly went out of their way to make you as
human as possible. It's both sad and funny how that meant adding tons on intentional defects to
your design.

"...ok," you manage to pull out of your throat, along some static and a nod.

Heather seems eager to clear her throat, making a whole show out of it.

"Do you know how we are made?" You glance at the hornmother, who shakes her head, and
so do you. "Me neither. None of us knows. And that's a problem. Because you see, I, Heather,
like all other of my kind, am immortal. Um, that as long as I don't die, of course."

"That's not very immortal to me," the hornmother points out.

Heather frowns. "I could live forever if nothing bad happened to me! Anyway, you don't get
new nitroliches. Never. We are always the same, so we know each other from feet to toe
or whatever kind of limbs we have at the moment. You know what I mean?" She gives
you an odd stare, and you rush to nod twice. This makes her grin. "The Fausto Vinland is
perfectly safe, and our food is very cheap to make and, unlike you, we don't need it to live-
but it can get SO BORING in there!" Heather shoots some air to the side. "It's always the
same people doing the same things! They wake up, do something, get better, then go to sleep.
Always the same. No risks!"

"So what did you do?" the hornmother asks.

Heather pauses, suddenly closing her eyes and lost in thought. She comes back fast. "This one
time, I was going with the Doctor to a meeting. We never had so much time to talk before, so
we talked, and we talked a lot." She puffs her chest as if she was proud of how much she
talked. "The Doctor told me about the world. I've awakened barely a few years ago, so I
didn't know much about anything back then. She told me everything was all wrong and that
nobody was doing anything about it, that everyone was so busy figuring out where the
problem was that all they did was... think," Heather says as if she was hearing the story
from the outside as well. "Then I asked her, 'So what's the problem, doc?' and she told me that
a good pointer as to where the evil was, was that everything evil was irrational."

The hornmother squints, then shoots a glance at you. "That last part got me lost. What?"

"EVERYTHING IRRATIONAL IS EVIL," Heather states, /very/ firmly, her eyes two balls
of crimson fire.

The hornmother opens her mouth, closes it, then scratches her head. "I'm not lost

Heather nods hard. "GOOD." She stops, looks at the ceiling, and lets her thought get in a row.
Then stares at you in force. "So I thought, then, is getting bored rational? No! It's not rational,
therefore it's evil and must be fought in the name of Good and Justice!"

The hornmother takes in all of this new information with her black, peaceful eyes wide
open. "...oh. So that's why you got exiled."

"I just wanted everyone to have fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!" Heather shouts, her mouth wavering as her eyes get all wet.
That Fakes are incapable of creativity or imagination is one truly crappy myth that only
Fakes can call bullshit. The general excuse when I Fake says It's imagining things is that
they think they are using imagination, but aren't because they don't know what that is. If they
ask the Sansuis, they will always say to can it, to let them think what they want, to "fuck them"
because they are stupid. But the reality is different. If the common denominator realized just how
actually capable a Fake really is, it would feel threatened. So, thankfully, your imagination is a
secret that no one wants to believe.

And right now, it's filled with images of Heather messing with everything, for months, in a ship
made of flesh.

"Alright, to hell with them! It's your turn now!" Heather calls, her finger shaking a bit as she
points at you. Her face is still a bit wet.

>Tell her your story.
>"I have a few questions if you don't mind."
>Tell her your story.

"So it sll started when the Broken Horn leader asked for a toaster..."

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