>>3831303

>Updates: https://twitter.com/MolochQM
>Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=NERV%20Second%20Daughter

“So what are we doing here?” you ask over the breakfast buffet, trying again and hoping for better luck, “What's our plan?”

Fletcher taps a finger against the table as he thinks, a half-eaten meal of toast and meat pate sitting unnoticed nearby. “I'm going to visit the installation here. They don't know we're here yet, so I'll have a chance to catch them by surprise. They won't have time to hide anything, but I'll need to move today. Berlin is one of the most monitored cities in the world, and we won't keep the element of surprise for long,” he answers eventually, “So that's my plan. I've got a few errands that you could help me with, actually.”

“Shoot,” you tell him, “Actually, save the shooting. Knowing my luck, there's gonna be plenty of time for that later. Just let me know what I can do.”

Another pause. “I took a walk this morning, before you were awake,” Fletcher muses, “There's a feeling in the air that I don't like. Nothing I can put my finger on, but...”

“But there's trouble brewing,” you guess, “You want to figure out what. Okay, I get it. So where do we start?”

“I have a... a contact in the city. A dealer in rumours. Klaus the Rat. If there's anything going on here, he'll know. The problem is, I can't just stop by and visit him. The last time I dropped by unannounced, things didn't end well,” the mercenary grimaces, “It's a long story. Basically, some of his less... lawful associates saw us meeting, and they got spooked. Pulled out of a deal, and Klaus ended up losing a fair bit of money – all because he was caught speaking with “the authorities”. Stupid.”

“So you want me to go in your place,” you mutter, “That, uh, that sounds super sketchy. Are you sure about this?”

“I don't blame you for being cautious,” Fletcher replies, reaching into his pocket and producing a crumpled flyer, “Maybe this would be more your speed.”

Taking the flyer and smoothing it out on the table, you skim it over. An open debate session held at a local university, spread across three days and starting... yesterday, it looks like. Even at a glance, you can tell that the event is being aimed at a younger audience. Looking up from the flyer, you raise an eyebrow at Fletcher.

“Berlin has a rather vibrant political scene,” he explains, “Demonstrations, public debates... agitation. Maybe that's what I'm feeling. Too much time listening to the ocean, I'm not used to city life. Even so, it might be worth taking a look. They wouldn't want an old man like me showing up, though, so...”

So go and make yourself busy, basically.

>You'll visit the NERV installation with Fletcher
>You'll go and see what Klaus the Rat has to say
>You'll visit the student debate, see what they're saying
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3831304
>You'll go and see what Klaus the Rat has to say.
If we play this right we won't even need to talk to him to get our answers.
We should be able to Interrogate his memories like we did with Cam, that one time.

>>3831304
>You'll go and see what Klaus the Rat has to say
down the rabbit hole, girl

>>3831304
>You'll go and see what Klaus the Rat has to say

>>3831312
Nah we should go physically. I mentioned at the end of last thread that too much sneaking around is not good for Holly. We need to start doing stuff head on.

>>3831304
Oh also.
>Other
See if we can't pick up some knuckledusters while we are here. If we have to get into a fight and we need an edge, but don't want to stab someone they are a good option.

>>3831316
How else do you think we're going to be able to information out of him?
Revealing our role within NERV or connection with Fletcher is just going to have the same thing happen to us as happened to Fletcher last time, on top of that He won't know us so he won't have any reason to provide any information anyway.

>>3831326
Pretty sure this is a business transaction. I imagine Fletcher is going to give us money and we'll use Fletcher's name. The issue was Fletcher looked like a fed. Klaus will appreciate him going through a less conspicuous intermediary.

And if he tries to play us we'll kick his ass.

>>3831344
Why would we want to waste a valuable resources on something we are uniquely suited to getting for free.

>>3831350
>NERV Money
>A valuable resource

A drop in the bucket more like.

One shady crook versus a mob of student activists? That's just about the easiest choice you've ever made.

“So where do I find this friend of yours?” you ask, leaning forwards and lowering his voice, “And is that really his name? I'm not gonna have to ask around for “Mister the Rat”, am I?”

Fletcher chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “It's a nickname. These underworld types love their nicknames,” he explains, taking a notepad and pen out of his pocket, “I'll give you the address. It's a basement room, just ring the buzzer and ask for him. Now, I can't guarantee that he won't try and frighten you, but deep down he's not so bad – just stand your ground and he'll back down first.” Pausing here, the mercenary frowns as he thinks back and scrawls down the address. “Here. Don't let anyone catch you with this written down,” he warns, “Oh, and don't let him distract you with any old stories.”

“Old stories?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“These underworld types love their old stories too but we're here for current affairs, not ancient history,” Fletcher answers, reaching into his pocket and producing a crumpled brown envelope, “Take this too. Consider it a little bit of pocket money. If that's too childish, then...”

“To cover any business expenses,” you suggest with a lopsided smile, taking the envelope and peering inside. An assortment of well-used banknotes winks back at you, their foreign designs oddly reminiscent of tourist postcards. Accepting your suggestion with a nod, Fletcher returns to his breakfast.

-

The address Fletcher wrote down means nothing to you, but your phone manages to produce a perfectly usable map for you to follow. Idly, you wonder if this has raised red flags on some database somewhere, but it doesn't seem worth worrying about. You've walked three streets from the hotel, and you've already seen over a dozen security cameras. If the powers that be want to follow you, they're going to follow you one way or another.

The weather poses a different problem. Too humid for your parka, but with an irritatingly consistent rain. With no real schedule for the day, and with Fletcher's money burning a hole in your pocket, you take a short detour to look around some of the shops. The streets look different by day, neon signs hanging cold and dead in lifeless shop windows. Aimlessly wandering down the streets, trusting your phone map to guide you back, you go wherever your feet take you. After a while, you spot a promising shop – the sign is unreadable, but the window display makes it out to be an army surplus store.

Picking out a thin black rain cape from the racks, you bring it to the counter. The attendant, a punkish teen girl with heavy make-up, looks you up and down. “Anything else you want?” she asks in a weary voice, shrugging at the rest of the shop. Glancing across the counter, you spot a display of polished brass knuckles.

A grin finds its way onto your face.

[1/?]

>>3831364
And when we inevitably get cut off from our supplier what then.

>>3831368

With the hood of the rain cape pulled low over your face and the brass knuckles weighing your pocket down, you feel positively dangerous. Even though your soul aches like a rotten tooth, you savour the feeling. Even with the NERV base here, Berlin feels a lot more like neutral ground. Temple was enemy territory, and you were bound by their rules. Here, the playing field feels far more level. It's anyone's game now.

Overconfidence, you think to yourself with a humourless smile, better watch out for that.

Following your phone's guidance, you spot a set of crooked apartment buildings leaning into the street. A short set of stairs leads down into the basement level, shadows hanging over the entrance. Shrugging beneath the oilskin, you descend the staircase and raise a hand to push the intercom button. Then, a sudden worry causes you to pause. What if Klaus doesn't actually speak any English? Surely, Fletcher wouldn't have sent you out here if that was the case, but...

But what if he was just trying to get you out of the way?

Growling softy, you push the idea out of your head and jab at the button. The intercom buzzes, and then... nothing. Just a long hiss of static. Leaning forwards, you lower your voice and speak. “I'm here to see Klaus the Rat,” you announce, “I believe we have a mutual friend.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” a snide voice hisses back almost immediately, “Then take that hood off so I can get a good look at you.” Glancing up, you note the red glow of a tiny camera hidden in an alcove above the door. Pulling back your hood, you glare up into the camera for a long moment. “Huh. And who are you supposed to be?” the voice asks, “No, wait, don't answer that. I hate doing business over a wire.”

With a heavy clunk, the door unlocks. Heaving it open, you step inside and peer into the gloomy building. Muffled music thumps out from one of the upper levels, but the basement is deceptively still. Slipping on the brass knuckles, you march down the corridor until you arrive at a new door. Without pausing, you push it open and enter. This time, you're met with a human face. Klaus the Rat – and who else would it be? - sits in front of a burning fireplace, the room dark save for that light. An empty armchair waits beside him, and an antique flintlock rifle hangs above the mantle. It feels like you've stepped into the parlour of some faded, disreputable nobleman.

“Don't you ever knock? Kids these days, no manners...” Klaus mutters angrily to himself, “Just like those fucking Turks upstairs, always playing their hip-hop records while I'm trying to work.”

“Is that hip-hop?” you ask, jerking your head towards the ceiling, “I thought they were letting off dynamite up there.”

He laughs at this, the laughter devolving into a thick cough. “Oh, that's funny,” he rasps, “Dynamite, yes. Very amusing. Now sit, sit down, and we can... talk.”

[2/3]

>>3831418

You move around to the armchair, only to find a set of tarnished teacups piled up on it. “Just put those on the floor,” Klaus instructs, waving a hand around at the messy room, “Anywhere will do. Just make sure you don't step on them. I polish those up, maybe I can sell them for a profit.” He laughs again, coughs again, and you turn away with a grimace. Busying yourself with lifting the awkward burden off the chair, you set it down behind the chair. Turning back to Klaus, you find yourself staring down the barrel of an antique revolver.

And you were getting along so well, too.

“Careful with that thing,” you warn, slowly easing yourself down into the armchair, “It doesn't look very safe to me. You pull that trigger, you might end up losing a hand.”

“Fine with me,” Klaus replies, “I've got a spare.”

“Look, Fletcher sent me. He would have come himself, but he didn't want a repeat of what happened last time,” you explain, “Did he ever compensate you for that? I hear you lost a fair bit of money because of that little mess.”

Maybe it's Fletcher's name, or maybe it's the mention of their shared history, but Klaus visible relaxes. Although he keeps the revolver trained on you, he makes an expansive gesture with the other. “Mister White Knight must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel, if he's sending little girls to do his dirty work now,” he remarks, “But yes, he paid. I made sure of that. Now, he wouldn't have sent you for a friendly chat. He wants something, doesn't he?”

Cautiously, you allow yourself to relax a little too. Klaus isn't exactly an ugly man, although what would have been a decently handsome face is ruined by some truly atrocious dental work. His age is hard to guess too, with the flicker of the firelight changing him from young to old at random. In a straight fight, without the revolver complicating things, you could probably take him. A good blow to the face to start with, aided by the element of surprise, and take it from there. With the revolver, though, it's a different matter. A quick lunge might still take it out of the equation, but...

“You want to answer my question, little girl?” Klaus presses, gesturing towards the door with his revolver, “Or maybe you want to turn around and walk out of here. We can forget this ever happened.”

>Just keep it cool and answer his questions
>Tackle him, grab the gun while he's distracted
>Walk away. This isn't worth getting a gun waved in your face
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3831470
>Just keep it cool and answer his questions
Honestly if he shot us it would solve so many of our problems for us.

>>3831470
>Tackle him, grab the gun while he's distracted
Gun isn't pointed at us right now. It's at the door. Knuckleduster to the gut to wind and then disarm him.

Afterwards
"I don't appreciate guns being pointed in my face so let's try this again. And if you try anything again you'll be picking what remains of your teeth off the floor. Do I make myself clear?"

>>3831470
>>Tackle him, grab the gun while he's distracted

>>3831531
>>3831483
Guys please. Playing things cool will lose Ego just like what happened with Liang. Stop being pragmatic armchair anon and remember what character you are playing. Violence IS her element.

>>3831536
I think i'd prefer to lose 5 ego then risk getting holly shot, we don't have any support nearby it would also probably pull Fletcher away from what he is doing and risk extending our stay in Berlin.

>>3831470
>>Tackle him, grab the gun while he's distracted
Fuck you ratman

>>3831470
>>Tackle him, grab the gun while he's distracted

>>3831544
For fucks sake anon, 5 Ego is huge. Did you not understand what I was saying at the end of last thread? This kind of play will make us lose in the long run. You HAVE to take risks with this character. You HAVE to be occasionally violent and angry. Otherwise you're going to be relying on Moloch handing out headpats for Ego boosts from other characters and those aren't reliable and are far and few between. If you don't take these opportunities, make these opportunities (which is why I wanted to come here physically), we are going to lose the Ego game, straight up.

His gun is pointed away from Holly, it's an antique piece of shit, Fletcher said he'd try to scare us so he probably doesn't expect to actually use it, and we have the element of surprise.

>>3831559
If he is one of Fletcher old contacts he is probably baiting us for a reaction there is no way he is actually distracted he has been around for a while, it also means that this goes from a trade to intimation he has no reason to tell us anything of any value .

You're just so damn sick of people treating you like crap. You were willing to put up with Klaus' crap, but then he had to drop that “little girl” line in. No matter what you do, no matter what you've done, that's all people ever see. It doesn't matter how many times you save the world, you'll still just be some dumb kid. Someone people can push around, someone people can exploit, someone people can-

Enough.

Lunging forwards, you swing a punch at Klaus' head with the brass knuckles. He's quicker than you expected, jerking his head back, but your blow skims across his temple regardless. Klaus goes limp for a moment as his head rolls back, and you grab for the revolver with your empty hand. His grip starts to tighten around the gun, but it's too late. Wrenching the gun away from him, you fumble it around and shove it in his face. His eyes go very wide, and he goes very still.

“Careful,” he croaks, “You pull that trigger, you might lose a hand.”

“Yeah well, I've got a spare,” you snap back, “It's not nice having a gun pointed in your face, is it? I sure don't appreciate it, so if you try anything like that again you're going to be picking your teeth out of this carpet. Are we clear on that, buddy?”

Klaus' eyes narrow, anger darkening his face, but he has no choice. At the sight of his submission, a thrill of satisfaction runs through you. It feels good, being in charge like this.

>Ego increased by 5
>Current Ego: 54/70

“Fine,” Klaus hisses, “What's it going to take to get you out of my office?”

“I'm looking for some information. Just a general report on things,” you answer casually, the weight of the revolver nagging at you, “What's the mood on the street like? Any big news or strange rumours?”

“You...” Klaus pauses, “That's IT?”

“Yeah, that's it. Should be a simple job, right?” you agree, “So get talking. The sooner I have what I want, the sooner I'll be gone.”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Klaus carefully brushes his floppy fringe back from his face. Every move he makes, he winces as if expecting a bullet to the head. “News. Right. There IS something that your Mister Fletcher might want to know about. Some new faces in town, actually. Five people, maybe six, flew in last week. Dates are a little vague, but they sure made waves once they got here. First thing they did, seems like, was to hit up the black markets. They wanted guns, and they were pretty eager to get them,” he explains, spitting the words out, “Bought their stuff at double market value, easy.”

“Okay...” you murmur, “Who are they?”

“Soldier types, definitely. They had that look about them. Not local men either. Foreign. South American, I think,” Klaus answers, “Never saw them myself, but my contact said they looked rough. Haggard. Scared.”

“Scared,” you repeat slowly, “Of what?”

Klaus just shrugs, the gesture heavy with frustration.

[1/?]

>>3831617
South American huh? NIHIL Remnants then?

>>3831627
If I had to guess why they could be here
Based on what we learned from Konstantine's disk they are likely to be an advanced element for an attack on Temple or Academy for the parts of Excalibur that they hold as they need them for their plan.
They aren't going be the profiteers that Coraline mentioned leaving looking to trade away the location of Dis for Money and Immunity, as they would have no need for guns.

>>3831617

“So a group of soldiers show up in town, scared out of their wits, and they immediately start buying up any guns they can find,” you muse, “What then?”

“What do you mean, what then?” Klaus spits, “Then, they fucking vanish! You want me to make something up, just to give you a nice neat ending?”

Even now, he can't stop himself from talking shit. “What I want,” you stress, leaning a little closer and tapping the muzzle of the revolver against his forehead, “Is for you to tell me everything. You're supposed to know about this stuff, but you're not giving me much to work with. Am I going to have to tell Fletcher that you've lost your touch?”

A low growl of frustration escapes Klaus. “So maybe people have been asking questions about the UN project here. Don't know if it's the same people doing it, but the timing works out,” he mutters, “But people ask about UN shit all the time. Folks don't exactly like having that shit here, considering all the trouble it causes. Pretty common to hear about people – journalists, activists, whatever else – digging for scraps of info.”

“Is that so?” you breathe, thinking over Klaus' words. These guys sound like NIHIL, although their motives remain unclear. Five or six men can only achieve so much, after all. Even with a hastily acquired armoury, they couldn't take on the UN soldiers garrisoned here. Something else, then?

“That IS so,” Klaus concludes, “Now are you going to get out of my office?”

>I think so. Pleasure doing business with you, Klaus
>Not quite yet. There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3831668
>>Not quite yet. There's something else... (Write in)
What WOULD they be able to hit and take out effectively?

>>3831668
>Not quite yet. There's something else... (Write in)
"Any idea where a squad of heavily armed soldiers would just 'vanish' in the city? Doesn't seem like it would be easy to be initially conspicuous and then go dark so well that people can't find them anymore."

Afterwards pay him and leave the revolver by the door on our way out.
>Pleasure doing business with you, Klaus

>>3831668
>I think so. Pleasure doing business with you, Klaus.
Give him the bag of cash, keep the gun. We might need it if the aforementioned Soldiers decide to go after a high value target.

>>3831688
That revolver isn't going to do much in a straight up fight. Leave it here and we can get a better, more modern handgun from Fletcher after we report back.

>>3831696
Why in the world do you think that we are going to make it back to Fletcher safely before something else pops us for us to handle.

>>3831706
Narrative tropes aren't a good enough reason for me to IC have Holly steal this dude's revolver after we've made our transaction and can leave without leaving strings attached. The bump on the head he got isn't a big deal now that he has been paid. You start taking his antiques and then he has reason to come after us or refuse Fletcher outright.

>>3831730
We can always return it before we leave Berlin an I'm pretty sure Holly wouldn't want to have a rerun of what happened on that highway.

>>3831668
>I think so. Pleasure doing business with you, Klaus
Don't take his gun.

>>3831668
>>3831686
>>3831685
Seconding

“Not quite yet. I'm starting to like it here,” you tell him, shrugging at the faded finery that the information dealer has gathered around himself, “Now, I'm curious about something. These soldiers we're talking about. Obviously, they're not about to bring down the UN base, but what COULD they take out?”

Klaus lets out a long sigh, his eyes flicking up to the revolver in your hand. With an indulgent smile, you finally lift it away from his forehead and sit back down, keeping the gun in your lap like an obedient pet. Privately, you're glad to set the weapon down. It was a heavy thing, and your hand was starting to tremble from holding it up. When you're trying to act tough, the last thing you need is shaking hands. Sitting back, you gesture for Klaus to speak. His thin tongue slips out, wetting his lips, and then he finally breaks his silence.

“They wanted to take out a target, it would need to be a person. Even a VIP, even someone with an escort, could be vulnerable if they hit hard and fast. Chances are, they wouldn't survive it, but... maybe they don't care, you see?” he shrugs, more animated now that the gun is in your lap, “Might not even be an assassination. Take a hostage, that could give them leverage. You know who these guys are?”

You meet his eyes with a tiny smile. “Any specific VIP that comes to mind?” you ask, leaving his question unanswered.

“Could be anyone. Doesn't even have to be a VIP, really,” Klaus shrugs, “Behead a few blue helmets on camera, you're going to stir up a whole lot of trouble. Might not achieve much else, but if you're just looking to be spiteful...” Trailing off here, he gives you a nasty look. That's harsh – you're not that spiteful, are you?

Probably best not to think too hard about that one.

“Must be hard to hide a group of heavily armed soldiers, especially in a city like this,” you think aloud instead, “Any idea where they could have vanished off to?”

“Careful, little girl. The more guesses I make, the less you're going to know,” Klaus warns, “You get a few funny ideas, next thing you know you're coming up with all kinds of wild theories. Better off keeping your feet on the ground.”

“Thanks for the advice, now answer my fucking question,” you snap, “Where could they hide?”

Scowling, Klaus shakes his head. “Less security cameras in the poor districts, or the construction sites on the outskirts. A lot of buildings got knocked down, and the rebuilding has been slow,” he suggests, “Plenty of homeless squatting in the ruins, so “respectable” people stay away as much as possible.”

Construction sites on the outskirts. Homeless people. That's a good disguise to adopt if you want people to look the other way. Still, as Klaus says, it's only a guess. Guesses can be wrong.

[1/?]

>>3831772

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you tell the man, taking the revolver and rising from his chair, “I'll be on my way now, but I'll be taking this. Sounds like I might need a little extra protection.”

“You're kidding,” Klaus mutters, scowling at you, “Just try and hide that thing. Go ahead, try.” Scoffing quietly, you carefully tuck the revolver into your belt and pull your shirt over it. No matter what you try, the oversized gun leaves a crude outline. Even the loose oilskin can't hide it easily. “You take that thing, you'll have police on you within five minutes,” the man sneers, “Then I get police sniffing around, maybe they find their way to my door. You think I want that trouble?”

As much as you hate to admit it, he's got a point. What you really need is something smaller, something sleeker. Something, you guess, that Fletcher would have access to. Slamming the revolver down onto the table, you give Klaus a fake smile. “Better for both of us if the police don't get involved,” you concede, “So what do I owe you? What would Fletcher normally pay for a little question and answer session like this?”

Klaus' eyes bulge a little. “This one is on the house,” he growls, “Just give the old man a message for me.”

“Never took you for the type to pass up on a chunk of money,” you muse, “But I can take a message, sure. What is it?”

“Tell him that we're through,” Klaus spits, “After today, we're done.”

-

With the oilskin flapping behind you, you hurry up the stairs to street level. Pausing suddenly, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There's something... not right. The street seems deserted, for one thing. It was never all that busy before, but now it's completely empty. It's almost like you've slipped into some other world, some hollow reflection of-

“It feels good, doesn't it?” a sudden voice crows, “Taking what you want, doing what you want even if it means crushing someone beneath your heel. There's no shame in enjoying it – it's only natural.”

Slowly turning, you meet Adrian's smirking eyes. “I should have kept that gun,” you lament, “It would have been worth the hassle, just to put a hole in your smug face.”

“You'd be welcome to try, of course,” he replies, tilting his head to the side, “But don't you think this sullen act is getting a little tired by now? I might be a Lilim, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil with one another. We could take a walk, enjoy the sights. I love this city, you know. I really do. It has an energy to it that I find positively... invigorating.”

“I'm here on business,” you shoot back, “I'm not here to be invigorated.”

“No?” he muses, “But you're smiling. Holding power over that man... you really did enjoy it, didn't you?”

>I did what was necessary, nothing more
>Fine, I enjoyed it. So what?
>I'm not answering that. I'm not even talking to you
>It was... (Write in)
>Other

>>3831806
The holding of power? Nah not really. What I enjoyed was the struggle, which I won. To push myself and improve. To show I'm not an easy mark, that even I might be small, I still need to be accounted for.

>>3831806
>Fine, I enjoyed it. So what?
"It was on him anyways. Pulling a gun on me and acting like a condescending prick. Had he just talked to me normally at the start he wouldn't have gotten a nasty bruise. I'm not some indiscriminate sadist like you seem to be implying.

Speaking of which"

>Other
Sock him in the stomach.
"That's for choking me the other day Mr. I want to be civil."

>>3831806
>I'm not answering that. I'm not even talking to you

>>3831806
Also this is why we should have played it cool, as now we have Burned one of Fletcher sources of information, and i wouldn't put it past him to see if he can get into contact with the people he told us about.
> Other
Ask some questions.
Does he know where Lilith is hiding and how to get to her.
Does he know Anything about the Giant of Light we keep seeing on our visions.
Can he verify Redpath's comments on the Akashic record.

>>3831806
>>Fine, I enjoyed it. So what?
>If there is one thing I've learned these past few days it's that I am so fucking done being patient with assholes

>>3831806
>>I'm not answering that. I'm not even talking to you

Are you smiling? Are you really? When you were pointing a gun at Klaus, piling threat upon threat on him, had you been smiling then? You're... not sure. You didn't think you were, at the time, but now you're less certain. Indecision gnaws at you for a moment, but then something within you hardens. This confusion, this uncertainty, is what HE wants. He's just like all the others, trying to leave you lost and confused.

You're done with that.

“Yeah, I enjoyed it. So what?” you shoot, carefully reaching down and slipping a hand into your pocket, “You're wrong about one thing, though. It wasn't the power, I enjoyed. It was the struggle. He thought I was some easy mark, and I proved him wrong. I got the better of him – that's what I enjoyed. It's not like I went in looking for a fight, though. HE was the one who pulled a gun on me, I just turned the tables on him. See, no matter what you might think, I'm not just some indiscriminate sadist. I only hit the people who deserve it.”

“Oh?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, “I never suggested that you were-”

Maybe he lets it happen, or maybe you manage to take him by surprise. Either way, when you rip your hand from your pocket the brass knuckles are in place. Coming in low, you sink your fist into Adrian's gut and fold him neatly in half. His words are cut off in an instant, and he collapses down to the ground. Not quite able to believe what you just did, you watch as his shoulders start to shudder. Bile rises in your throat as you realise that he's laughing silently to himself.

“Oh my,” he breathes, “You've been wanting to do that for a long time, haven't you?”

“For one reason or another,” you admit, “But the choking thing was the most recent thing.”

Slowly straightening up, Adrian/Amon smooths down his outfit. “I'm sorry about that,” he replies with a sly smile, “I'm told that some women enjoy that sort of thing. Well, since you're being such a good sport about it, why don't we agree to let bygones be bygones?”

He is just impossible to deal with. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you turn around and stalk off. He follows you, of course, trotting behind you like a puppy. “Fine. If you're going to be like that, you can make yourself useful,” you spit, “Do you actually know where Lilith is hiding?”

“We were getting along so well, and then you just HAD to spoil the mood by mentioning another woman,” Amon sighs, “Well, as you say, she's hiding. I don't actually know where she is, although I do know where to find her. I'd tell you to ask your superiors, but they're not in the habit of telling you things, are they? Mother Lilith is hiding deep within what your people are calling the Dirac Sea, protected by my rather dull brother, Orcus. The rest of my kin are tedious, but he was just... intolerable.”

“Like someone I know,” you mutter.

“Rude,” Amon scolds, grinning at you.

[1/?]

Orcus (Latin: Orcus) was a god of the underworld, punisher of broken oaths in Italic and Roman mythology. As with Hades, the name of the god was also used for the underworld itself. In the later tradition, he was conflated with Dis Pater

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orcus.

>>3831897

“Okay, I'll take the bait,” you sigh, “What makes this Orcus so intolerable?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” Amon replies, his grin stretching even wider, “It's like talking to a brick wall. No personality at all.”

“I've met girls like that at my old boarding school,” you remark, only to snap your mouth shut as you realise what you're doing. You're actually talking to him like a friend, like a fellow human. “You know all about your kind, don't you? I need information,” you continue, your voice deliberately cold, “In my dreams, I've been seeing something. A giant of light that brings destruction when it appears. Any of that sound familiar to you?”

Amon actually pauses here, his brow furrowing as he frowns. “Well, that doesn't sound like one of US,” he suggests, “So don't go blaming me if this thing shows up and ruins your day. Hey, and what's THAT frown for?”

“I'm just trying to figure out if you're lying or not,” you tell him, “I mean, playing dumb like this...”

“Do you think I LIKE admitting ignorance? No, if I knew something, I would be only too happy to gloat about it,” Amon points out, sniffing with offended pride, “Besides, I don't lie.”

“Even when you wrote the Akashic Record, that shit about the blood of Lilith getting into mankind?” you press, “You weren't lying then?”

“Not at all. It's the perfect truth – I should know, I saw it happen,” Amon answers, “Of course, you're far more aligned with Father Adam, as these things go, but there's still a tiny drop of Mother Lilith in you. It's always there, and nothing you can do will ever wash that stain away. It's just a part of you. When you think of it that way, it rather sounds like original sin, doesn't it?”

This sounds worryingly like you're about to get into a theological debate. Rescue comes in the form of your phone chiming. Turning away from Amon, you take it out and read the message. It's from Fletcher, letting you know that he's heading back to the hotel now. Pocketing your phone, you turn back to Amon and... he's gone, vanished into thin air.

“Thank God for that,” you mutter, although you can't quite bring yourself to believe your own words.

-

Fletcher is waiting in the hotel bar when you arrive, sitting slumped in a corner booth with a glass of dark beer in front of him. Catching his eye, you hurry across and sit down opposite him. “So...” you begin, suddenly lost for words, “You first.”

“Very well. It'll be a short list,” Fletcher replies, a faint note of frustration in his voice, “I don't know if I should be irritated or proud. There was nothing out of the ordinary... which is exactly as it should be. I trained these people to be ready for surprise inspections at all time, and they've done exactly that – which didn't leave much for me to see. Now, that doesn't mean it was a wasted trip. In fact, I might have a good lead...”

[2/3]

Not to take a dig at the ego system or anything, but it is really amusing to see a decision picked at least partially because of a stat and then having to rationalize it in character. Another thing of note is that Amon neatly replaced Claire in that 'only in your head' conversation capacity.

>>3831979

“I wasn't able to get an appointment to see him today, but there's a scientist working here who could help us. He's quite brilliant, apparently, and I was thinking...” Fletcher pauses, his face briefly twisting as he tries to say something he doesn't want to say, “I was thinking that he might be a useful backup option.”

“A replacement,” you guess, “...For Bergmann?” The name hangs in the air for a moment, and Fletcher eventually nods. “Well that's... I guess that's good,” you murmur, “I didn't think you'd be willing to-”

“I need to consider all options. If Doctor Bergmann does prove to be a risk to the entire ADM project, I need to plan around that – up to and including making arrangements for a replacement,” the mercenary answers quietly, “I'm told that our man has studied Bergmann's work, and he could pick up where she left off. He's not likely to cause trouble either – I'm told that he's a quiet sort, very much the orthodox type.”

He sounds like a member of the Matheson tribe. That's not exactly a point in his favour, but compared with plotting to destroy the world...

“I've made arrangements to meet with him tomorrow. I'd like you to come with me – you can get a tour of Academy too,” Fletcher concludes, “Now tell me. How did you meeting with Klaus go?”

Your stomach lurches at this, and you feel your throat closing up. Oblivious to your sudden panic, Fletcher takes a sip of his beer and waits for your answer.

>It was... fine. Totally fine. I've got some info for you.
>Things got a little... (Write in)
>Other

So is Amon implying that Orcus is quite literally acting as the Doors to the Gulf,
If so as long as we don't go looking for it we don't have to deal with it, at this point I think we might want to make sure that the probe doesn't make use of the tip of Excalibur or something like that as we will kind of need it for other important things.

>>3832008
>>Things got a little... (Write in)
Heated and he ended up pulling a gun on me, and things happened, he doesn't want to see you ever again.

Though he did tell me that approximately six people from South America approached one of his contacts offering to buy firearms at twice their market price recently.

>>3832008
>Things got a little... (Write in)
"He pulled a gun on me before we even started trading information. I took exception to that and removed it from him. I got info, but it doesn't seem like he wants to work with you again. I'm sorry that I lost you that contact, but I won't apologize for how I reacted."

>>3832008
>Things got a little... (Write in)
"We did not appreciate each other. He did not appreciate my sudden visit, I did not appreciate him pulling a gun on me, he wasn't fond of a nice hook with a brass knuckle and me taking his gun. I'm not fond of how little information he has provided. Due to this mutual feeling, Klaus has decided to no longer have any business with you. 'After today, we're done' was the message. How do you even deal with such jumpy people?"

As much as some small, cowardly part of you wants to lie and tell Fletcher that everything was fine, you can't bring yourself to do it. This might be one of those “honesty is the best policy” situations – especially if he might find out the truth later.

“Things got a little, uh, heated,” you begin slowly, picking your words with care, “Before we even got started with talking business, your man pulled a gun on me. Not a little gun, either. This thing was like a cannon.”

“So he's still dragging that old anchor around with him,” Fletcher muses, a tiny hint of a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, “I told him to trade it in for something smaller, something he can carry around without causing trouble, but he was never one to appreciate advice.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't appreciate a gun in the face,” you mutter, “And he didn't really appreciate it either.”

Fletcher pauses, his glass of beer half-raised to his lips. Slowly, he places the glass down and pushes it away. “Please tell me you didn't do anything... rash,” he says slowly, wincing as if suffering from a migraine, “Please tell me you didn't-”

“I didn't shoot him!” you snap, flinching at the sudden sound of your own voice. The hum of background conversation falters for a moment, tentatively resuming after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Look, it was a mess. He wasn't happy about me just showing up, I wasn't happy about getting a gun pulled on me, nobody was happy. What was I supposed to do, though?” you shrug, almost aggressively, “I got your information. That's the important part, isn't it?”

Saying nothing, Fletcher just gestures for you to continue. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you recount what Klaus told you. “About a week ago, a group of South American soldiers arrived in the area. Five or six of them, all of them looking pretty scared. First thing they did was to buy weapons, paying way over what they were worth. Seems like they were desperate. After that, they vanished,” you explain, “Your man thinks they might be hiding out in the outskirts, in the constructions sites. Couldn't confirm that, but it's the only place some soldiers COULD vanish. Could be that they've been asking questions about NERV too, but that's not confirmed either. They could be planning to go after a VIP. Any idea who that might be?”

“Leighton,” Fletcher answers, his tone distant and distracted, “He's based here. Apparently.”

“Leighton. Right,” you agree, nodding, “So this changes things, doesn't it? What's our plan now?”

“What happened with Klaus?” Fletcher presses, meeting your eyes, “Tell me the rest, Holly.”

Squirming in your seat, you fumble for the right words. “He, uh, he gave me a message,” you mumble, “He said that after today, he was done. Done working with you, I guess. I'm sorry about how this played out, but... I mean, he pulled a gun on me! How do you deal with such jumpy people?”

Dead silence.

[1/?]

>>3832081

“I'm going to need to pick up some supplies. Then, tonight, I'm going to take a look around these construction sites. I know the place Klaus mentioned – it's perfect for hiding out,” Fletcher states eventually, his voice cold and tight, “I need you to stay here. I'll be back in a few hours, once I have everything I need, and then I'll update you on the situation. Do you think you can stay here without causing too much trouble?”

“Too much...” you splutter, dropping your voice to a low hiss, “Fletcher, he pulled a gun on me! You told me-”

“I told you to stand your ground,” the mercenary replies, his voice a harsh whisper as he stabs the table with his finger, “Not threaten him!”

“Oh, fuck YOU Fletcher,” you snarl, “Remember Temple? You pulled a gun on a man then. He wasn't even armed, and you put a gun to his head. You remember that, don't you?”

This, at least, causes him to hesitate for a second. “That's different,” Fletcher snaps, “That was... different.”

“Yeah, of course it was,” you sneer, “Do as I say, not as I do... right? I thought you were better than this, man. I thought you were-”

PIGS AND HYPOCRITES

Gasping as a sudden pain stabs into your head, you fall silent. Fletcher turns away, his mouth twisted with a grimace. “You thought wrong,” he mutters, bitterness clinging to his words, “Go back to your room. Stay there. I'll be back in a few hours. We'll finish this conversation then.”

Blinking away the tears of pain that blur your vision, you watch as Fletcher starts to stalk from the bar. A few curious eyes follow him, but they soon return to their own lives. Swept up in a sudden confusion, you...

>You've done enough damage. Follow orders and head back to your room
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3832123
>You've done enough damage. Follow orders and head back to your room.
Just because we're in our room doesn't mean we have to stay there, go body less and follow him.
So this how Fletcher dies.

>>3832123
Moloch quick question: Is he going to pick up supplies and then come back to us and update or is he picking up supplies AND going to the construction sites before he updates us?

>>3832140
>He'll be heading out for supplies, then coming back to discuss with us before deciding anything else. Construction site comes later

>>3832167
Alright

>>3832123
>Follow orders and head back to your room

>>3832123
>>There's something else... (Write in)
Tell him we'll watch his back like in China.

You watch, uncertain, as Fletcher marches out. It feels like you're rooted to the spot, pinned in place by your own doubts. Some part of you wants to storm after him, to drag the argument kicking and screaming out into the streets if that's what it takes, but you just don't have the strength for it. All you can do is watch him leave, before stiffly walking back to the elevators. It's like the epitome of being a scolded child – go to your room, Holly.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, stepping inside the sleek elevator. You might GO to your room, but you certainly don't feel like staying in it. By the time the elevator has reached your floor, you've made up your mind. Slamming the door shut behind you, you collapse down onto your bed and close your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out, and...

And let go.

-

Bodiless, you fly through the hotel corridors and taste snippets of emotions left behind by previous guests. All the while, you follow Fletcher's own essence as the trail leads you out into the streets. With his shoulders squared and his face set in a grim mask, he trudges through the streets until, eventually, his path takes him to a luxurious looking bar. Curious now, you follow the mercenary as he enters, taking a seat at the bar and nodding to the immaculately groomed bartender.

“Romeo,” he begins, his voice low, “Need to pick up a few supplies. Something quiet, but with some punch behind it.”

“I know exactly what you have in mind,” the bartender replies, “Are you working again, Mister Fletcher? It's been a while.”

“Yeah, well, I've been busy,” Fletcher grunts, pointing to a bottle of bourbon on the wall. The bartender pours a glass before picking up a small brass telephone from under the bar. Whispering a few words into it, he places the phone back down. Fletcher's glass is already empty, and the mercenary nods for another. “I'll tell you, Romeo, I'm starting to miss freelance work,” he sighs, “Having a stable job is nice, but I'm not used to feeling so... connected.”

“Being a part of a larger organisation can have benefits, I'm sure, but there must be drawbacks,” Romeo muses, “Perhaps you'd like to share a few of your concerns while you wait? Of course, I can promise you absolute discretion.”

You watch like a ghost, like a guilty voyeur as Fletcher rolls the bourbon around in his glass. “I lost one of them,” he says at last, “One of the kids I was supposed to protect. At least, I think I lost her. It's... complicated. I'm supposed to be protecting them, but I'm starting to wonder if I can do it. The whole situation is a mess, and keeping them safe... It's not like protecting some fat salaryman from thugs or business rivals. These problems don't just go away when you shoot at them.”

“That does sound troublesome,” Romeo murmurs, “Shall I cancel your order then, sir?”

“No,” Fletcher replies, a wry smile on his face, “I guess there are some problems I CAN shoot.”

[1/?]

>>3832243

Fletcher falls silent for a while, the bartender patiently obliging him. A few moments later, an equally silent assistant arrives from the back of the bar, a long suitcase held reverently before him. Placing it down on the bar, the assistant bows slightly before retreating. Fletcher opens the case, and you peer over his shoulder at the weapon inside. A sleek weapon with a fat suppressor fixed around the barrel, it oozes a sense of menace.

“Perfect,” Fletcher murmurs, “German too. Was that your idea, Romeo?”

“Yes sir. I thought you might appreciate that,” the bartender replies, nodding solemnly, “Of course, I can personally guarantee quality and reliability.”

“If it wasn't reliable, I wouldn't have a chance to come back and complain, would I?” Fletcher points out, closing the case with a solid click. Romeo accepts the point with a tiny smile, the expression out of place on his cadaverous face. “Well, you've never failed me yet,” he sighs after a moment, swallowing down the last of his drink, “I don't see any reason to stop trusting you now.”

“Very good, sir,” Romeo murmurs, “Will there be anything else?”

Fletcher starts to shake his head, only to pause. “Maybe a sidearm,” he says slowly, “Something small, easy to use.”

“Very good, sir,” the bartender repeats, his voice perfectly calm and even, “I'll have it brought up immediately.”

>So I think I'm going to pause things here for today. I'll be continuing this tomorrow, but it's looking unlikely that I'll be able to run any additional sessions between now and next Friday
>Thank you for your contributions today!

>>3832267
Thanks for the run.

The sidearm is for Holly isn't it, will our boosted ranged damage carry over to the pistol?

>>3832267
Thanks for running.

Looks like we are about to go into a firefight. 2v6 ain't great odds though.

>>3832267
Thanks for running!

Will Klaus forgive Holly and Fletcher if we set him up on a date with Claudia?

>>3832378
You mean, if we threaten to sic Claudia on him? I think that might be a little TOO cruel!

>>3832281
The damage boost won't carry over, but that's largely because I don't track damage numbers for the "out of mech" stuff. Getting shot is getting shot, upgrades or no upgrades

>>3832461
>Getting shot vs. blowing a fist sized hole in someones gut
I dunno, AT fields be cray

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Lying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you try very hard to think about nothing at all. You do a pretty good job of it for a while, and then Fletcher's phone rings in the next room over. Slowly sitting up, you glance around and creep over to the connecting door. Testing it and finding it unlocked, you sneak inside and pick up the phone. Tentatively raising it to your hear, you listen as-

“Gosh Fletch, I thought you were going to let it ring all day!” Commander Monroe scolds, “Oh, is this a bad time? I didn't catch you in the shower or anything, did I?”

“Uh... Fletcher's not here at the moment. He left me to look after the place,” you answer cautiously, “So I guess it sorta is a bad time? I can take a message for him if you want.”

“Oh, no, it's nothing important. I just wanted to check in, make sure you two weren't causing too much trouble over there,” Monroe sighs, and you can hear the smile in her voice, “How's Berlin? I visited it once back when I was in the air force. Just a brief stop, of course, but I enjoyed it. The locals were very efficient – in fact, they did almost all of my work for me! I had so much spare time, I was able to see a bit of the city and enjoy the... ah, the nightlife.”

The local bars, in other words. You're a little surprised that she can even remember visiting the city. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you just hold the line for a moment and wait for Monroe to continue talking. She does so after a long sigh, the breathe roaring in your ear like a sudden gust of wind.

“Just... be careful, okay?” she urges, “Call it female intuition, but I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Somewhere in the world, someone is going to have a bad day. I don't want it to be you.”

She might be a little too late for that.

-

You try and go back to thinking about nothing, but it's a futile effort now. You've woken up now, and you can't get Monroe's words out of your head. Somewhere in the world, someone is going to have a bad day. No shit. On probabilities alone, there are probably millions of people already having bad days. Scowling at the thought, you return to your own room and pause, wondering if your day just got a little worse. There, Amon stands at your window and gazes out at the city. Having him here, having him in YOUR room, feels like an unbearable violation of privacy. It feels... intimate. Too intimate.

“You know, I think you're being a little harsh on yourself,” Amon announces suddenly, without looking around, “All this sulking, I mean. All you've done is act in accordance with your own nature. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah?” you snap back, “And what if my own nature is being an asshole?”

“By whose standards?” the Lilim counters, “Theirs? They've never thought twice about being assholes to you. Why should you spare them the courtesy?”

That's...

[1/2]

>>3834501

“Holly.”

Jolting awake, you sit up and glance around the room. Disorientated by the sudden awakening, it takes you a long moment to see Fletcher sitting at the far side of the room. A long suitcase, the same suitcase that he took from the bar, sits at his feet. Even as you look jerkily around, he gives you a long, studious look. Then, as if reaching some conclusion, he nods to himself. “It's getting dark,” the mercenary announces, “It's almost night.”

“Uh, yeah,” you manage, peering through the window, “Yeah, it is.”

“I'm going to hunt down those soldiers. If they're NIHIL agents, they need to be taken out before they can cause any damage. If I can bring one in alive, they might have vital information. Either way, it's going to be dirty work,” he continues, “I want you to stay here and wait for me. I'll be back in the morning.”

Leaping out of bed, you lunge a few steps closer to the man. “You can't!” you cry, “This is... this is bullshit, you can't go alone!”

“I can, and I will,” Fletcher insists, “It's safer this way. I'm used to operating on my own, but if I have to look out for someone else at the same time...”

“So I'd just slow you down?” you snap, “I'd just be a burden?”

“Yes,” he states bluntly, “These are professional soldiers, and they'll be shooting to kill. This isn't a game, and this isn't a training exercise.” Looking away, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small pistol. “I can't guarantee that I'll be able to find these men. They may already have moved on, or they may know that I'm looking for them. I want you to keep this with you,” he continues, “Don't draw it unless it's absolutely necessary.”

Numbly taking the gun, you turn it over in your hands. “I could just follow you,” you point out, “What are you going to do, handcuff me to the bed?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Fletcher replies with a grimace, “I'm doing this for your own good. You've had training, I know that, but you're not ready for this. You're still a child.”

“Yeah, and I was still a child when you used me as bait for a fucking NIHIL ambush,” you snarl, “Didn't stop you then, did it?”

A grunt of irritation escapes Fletcher's lips. “I didn't want to put you in that position then, and I don't want to put you in this position now,” he tells you, “I'm worried about you, Holly. You're pushing yourself too hard, and this is... if I'd known this would happen, I never would have allowed you to come with me. I would have sent you back to Avalon, back to-”

“Safety? With HER there?” you spit, “It's not safe there either. There isn't a place on this Earth that's safe. Not any more.”

Fletcher lets out a low sigh of frustration. “I'm going,” he concludes at last, “Think very carefully about what you do next.”

>You'll stay behind, as ordered
>To hell with the orders, you'll follow Fletcher
>You'll go bodiless, follow Fletcher that way
>Other

>>3834503
>You'll go bodiless, follow Fletcher that way
Let him know, see if we can get someone's phone number when he gets in to trouble and needs help we can arrange for that, and to keep his phone on him so we can inform him of anything we find.

>>3834503
>You'll go bodiless, follow Fletcher that way
"If I don't push myself hard people get hurt. Dakota get's thrown into the fire when she isn't ready, Nate's real fate is unknown, Cam gets left behind to die, and now you are running off to fight a squad alone. I don't GET to take it easy. Not in this fucking life.

Keep your phone on vibrate, I'm watching your back in my special way. If you need to talk to me you can either just talk out loud or write something down. You've got a invisible scout. Utilize it."

>>3834503
>You'll go bodiless, follow Fletcher that way

>>3834514
I'm thinking that we use his travel time to head to the bar that he was at.
You can't forget that his entire team wouldn't have made it out of China without Our oversight.

>>3834503
>You'll go bodiless, follow Fletcher that way

The eternal utility

“I have to push myself, Fletcher. If I don't, people are going to get hurt. Dakota's going to get thrown into the fire, Nate is going to... I don't even know what's going to happen to her. Cam could have been left behind to die. You see what happens when I DON'T step up and push myself?” you growl, your words causing Fletcher to pause, “Now you're going to take on a group of armed men, all by yourself. No way, I'm not just sitting this one out.”

“I already told you,” he replies, frustration edging into his words, “It'll be more dangerous for me if you're there, if I need to-”

“I'm not going to BE there,” you snap, “But I'll be watching over you. Scouting the place out. You know what I can do – you've got a tool at your disposal here, so USE it.”

Fletcher stares at you for a moment, and you can practically hear the cogs grinding behind his eyes. Finally, he tilts his head slightly. “Tell me what you have in mind,” he orders, “Quickly, and simply.”

“I'll be watching over you. If you need me to do anything, just say it aloud – I'll hear you. I don't know about replying, though...” you pause, “Keep your phone on, but silent. I guess I can message you that way if it's an emergency. Or, if you get in serious trouble, I can call someone for help. Your need to trust me, Fletcher – your team wouldn't have made it out of China alive if it hadn't been for me.”

“Fine. Point taken,” the mercenary concedes, “Just... don't get too squeamish. You might see some ugly things tonight.”

You just give him a thin smile.

-

With his sombre suit and oversized briefcase, Fletcher looks like some strange businessman as he strides down the street. As if sensing danger, the crowds seem to part around him before resuming their usual flow. For his part, Fletcher barely seems to notice them. He just carries on, his eyes set straight forwards and his pace never slowing. The further out from the city centre he goes, the more the streets start to take on a seedy, decayed look. More and more buildings look crumbling, desperately in need of renovations, and the locals all seem to share a cold, suspicious gleam in their eyes.

Then, the outskirts. What were once grand construction sites loom over the ruins around them, but there's no sign of machinery or recent work. The whole project seems abandoned, left to rot and fall apart. Trash blows on the wind, and a few squatters peer out from gutted buildings. There are three sites, little more than skeletons waiting to be fleshed out. Fletcher pauses, looking up at them with a cold, calculated gaze. Then, turning his eyes back to ground level, he approaches a group of the locals.

“Looking for some help,” he begins, “Any new faces around here lately? Probably showed up in the last week or so, probably not mixing with the usual crowd. Any ideas?”

Silently, one of the ragged locals points to one specific tower block.

[1/?]

You know this scenario makes me realize we should try to learn how Amon is able to talk to people while bodiless. Might be a just Lilim thing, but hoping on the off chance it's a skill we can learn somehow.

>>3834570
It will probably require a stronger AT Field, it would likely be achieved in one of two ways Get an injection of an active material (Lilium or the Refined biomass) material like Coraline or Matheson (Bergmann said that it has other benefits ) or spend some time in an environment like Nate or Reed.

>>3834556

Crunching across the loose rubble, Fletcher arrives at the tower and crouches down in the entrance. Setting his briefcase down, he takes out the sleek gun and loads a fresh magazine in place. With a hard slap and a harsh crack of metal, he drops the bolt. “Ready when you are,” he murmurs, looking up towards the sky, “Message me if you see anyone.”

Back in your hotel room, you feel your body letting out a soft sigh as you allow your senses to expand. An ocean of thought, of sensation, surrounds you as you open yourself up to it, but two points stand out above the rest. Fletcher himself is like a glint of bare steel, harsh and cold, while a vaguer haze of emotion stirs above. A mix of tension and fear, panic tempered by a ruthless determination. Honing in, you rise to the upper levels and spot a group of four men crouching with their weapons at the ready. They all carry rifles, with a few of them even wearing grenades on their combat webbing. All of a sudden, Fletcher looks very outgunned.

Surfacing with a gasp, you claw at your phone. “Four men, armed, waiting on the seventh floor,” you murmur aloud, tapping at the keys, “Waiting near a service elevator of some kind. Looks like they're expecting trouble.” With the message sent, you plunge back down beneath the surface of reality and fly back to Fletcher's side.

“...told them I was coming,” Fletcher mutters to himself, his expression twisting into a grimace, “Fine. I'll do this the hard way.” Shouldering his gun, he creeps inside the gutted building and glances around. Spotting the elevator shaft, Fletcher deliberately steps around it and makes for the nearby staircase instead. Moving slowly, painstakingly slowly, he begins to ascend. Even here, you can feel your body running with sweat. Every step Fletcher takes, you expect some sudden ambush to flare up. You only saw four men – where are the others?

Maybe Klaus was wrong, you wonder, there was some uncertainty about the exact number of them. Maybe he just got it wrong.

Pausing at one of the upper floors – the fifth, you think, although you lost count at some point – Fletcher stalks over to the elevator and fiddles with the controls. With a groan of tortured metal, it starts to grind into motion. Above, the sudden panic stabs at you. The soldiers take aim at the elevator, preparing to fire as soon as it arrives. Meanwhile, Fletcher is already hastening up the unguarded stairs. You already know what's coming, and your stomach tenses up. Fletcher warned you that things might get ugly, but the thought of shooting these guys in the back like this...

It's four against one, you remind yourself, a few dirty tricks were always going to be necessary.

Even so, you turn your gaze away just before the shooting starts.

[2/?]

>>3834617
>You only saw four men – where are the others?
How likely it is that Rat was so offended that he stalked us back to this place and told them to take a shot at us while we're here?

>>3834617

A thin haze of smoke hangs over the gutted building, the smell of gunfire lingering in your mind. Calmly reloading, Fletcher steps out from cover and creeps over to the scattered bodies. Judging by the way they fell, only one of them was able to turn before Fletcher put a tight group of shots through him, and he wasn't able to get a shot off. One of the men stirs slightly as Fletcher approaches, and the mercenary glances briefly down at the dying soldier. Raising his gun, he takes aim and-

The dying man rolls over, and something spills from his nerveless hand. Fletcher jumps away immediately, even before you realise what you're looking at – a grenade, the pin still dangling from the soldier's hand. The grenade explodes with a thunderous crash, the blast picking Fletcher up and throwing him back against the far wall. He drops his gun as he lands, the weapon skittering away with a clatter of metal. Trying to rise, failing, slumping back again, Fletcher leaves a long smear of blood on the wall as he slides down to the side.

“Damn it!” you cry, a sudden storm of panic pressing in on you from all sides. That blast seems to have woken up the entire city, the collective fear staining your entire world black. Through the worst of it, you feel two sparks of life stalking closer – the last two soldiers, drawn by the brief skirmish.

“Ah, and all you can do is sit back and watch,” Amon sighs, suddenly here. Leaning casually against the wall, he covers up a yawn as he waits for the remaining soldiers to arrive. Without wasting your breath on answering, you rip back into the real world. Leaping up with enough haste to leave you dizzy, you cast a wild eye around the hotel room. Fletcher's emergency number, scrawled on the closest thing to hand before he hurried out. Where did he leave it? Now, you can't remember...

“You're wasting your time here,” Amon drawls, “How long do you think he has? While you're searching for a scrap of paper, your boss is bleeding out... to say nothing about those rather angry gentlemen. I can't imagine they're going to give him first aid when they find him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” you snap, “I can't just sit back and watch, but-”

“So go back there and KILL them,” the Lilim cries out, “Burn them, burn them like the insects they really are. Are you really so powerless that you can't swat a few flies? You're not going to beg ME to do it for you, are you?”

“You...” you whisper. Would he actually do that for you, if you asked? He's perverse enough that maybe, just maybe, he really would do it. At what cost, though?

>Just keep searching for the emergency number. It MUST be here somewhere
>Go bodiless again and take on the remaining soldiers. You CAN do this
>Turn to Amon for help. Surely he can deal with the soldiers, but...
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3834741
>>Go bodiless again and take on the remaining soldiers. You CAN do this
I hate agreeing with Amon out of principle, but I think it's the only way to save Fletcher

>>3834741
>Go bodiless again and take on the remaining soldiers. You CAN do this

teach me how glowboy

>>3834741
>Go bodiless again and take on the remaining soldiers. You CAN do this.
They aren't the first and likely won't be the last.
At this point i'm more afraid of what Yulia's going to do when she finds out.

>>3834741
>Go bodiless again and take on the remaining soldiers. You CAN do this
Crush them. It's the only way to save him.

>>3834741
>There's something else... (Write in)
"Fine. You want to see me pissed off, I'm pissed off now. How about you show me a bit of understanding as well? Keep him alive. Keep his blood in, whatever. I'll deal with the rest of them."

Pick one of them, make him scream until the other one backs away in fear. If that has no immediate effect, go lethal. I think it's a nice balance between murdering people and giving in to the impulse.

“You really are a bastard, aren't you?” you hiss, glaring at Amon, “You wanted to see me pissed off? Well, you got what you wanted. But if you're going to enjoy this show, you gotta pay the admission fee. I don't care what it takes, just keep him alive.”

Amon raises an eyebrow, but you don't stick around long enough to hear his smug reply. Going bodiless so fast that your body crumbles to the ground, you race back to the construction site. This time, you're not just some unseen observer – you can feel your astral body blazing with desperate power, the light of your soul burning brighter than ever. Chasing down the scent of Fletcher's soul, you arrive back to find the soldiers crouched beside him. One of them has a rifle aimed at the unconscious mercenary, while the other searches hungrily through his pockets.

You've got no idea what you're doing, so you don't even try to think. You just... act. Setting your sights on the gunman first, you turn every drop of strength that you can muster up on him. Like a tsunami, a wave of power crashes down upon him. Flashes of knowledge swirl around you, bits and pieces of the man's life dragged out from his mind. You learn that the man's name is Adriano Rana, that his friends call him “Frog” after some mostly-forgotten prank. You count the kills he can remember – eighteen men, six women, and a single child that sometimes haunts him at night – and the vague flickers of the kills he's forgotten. Then, buried at the deepest core of his mind, you feel a raw fear. Before he fled Dis, he saw something that left a deep scar on his soul, something inhuman, something that-

The man, Adriano “Frog” Rana, explodes. He bursts apart, not into blood and guts but into a spray of red/orange liquid. His companion turns in sudden horror, gasping in alarm as the fluid splatters across his cheek. He reels back, and Fletcher lurches into sudden life. Lunging up, the mercenary drives a short-bladed knife into the stunned man's throat. This time, blood DOES spray.

All of a sudden, things seem very still. Gurgling as he claws at the knife in his throat, the final soldier dies badly, and a few distant sirens grow slowly louder. Then, another sound – slow, sardonic applause.

“Well done,” Amon crows, “You're a natural, Holly. I couldn't have done it better myself.”

“Don't praise me, don't you fucking-” you mumble, feeling a distant lurch. Retreating back into your body, you hurl yourself into sudden motion. It's close, but you manage to make it into the bathroom before throwing up.

[1/?]

>>3834806
Brutal. And also similar to what Amon did to us and the kids of Circle Eleven.

This guy 'fled' Dis though. Does that imply they were here on their own volition? Shame we don't have a survivor to confirm this with. I'd have liked to get in contact with Coraline again.

>>3834849
>Does that imply they were here on their own volition?
They were definitely on some mission, since they bought weapons and grenades ASAP.

>>3834849
We can always try calling Coraline, or sending her a message through Labyrinth and wait for her response.

We should try calling Claire again.

>>3834856
Sure, they definitely had a goal in mind. iirc the situation at Dis was falling apart around Coraline and people were leaving. I'm just curious if this mission of theirs was under orders or just something radicals thought was right to do on their own. Could be reading too much into 'fled Dis' but I think there is some importance there.

>>3834868
We know that at very least they have a segment from Excalibur there in addition to Unit 05.

Although, obviously his memories mention something inhuman so it is probably something else entirely.

>>3834806

With the sour taste of bile coating your throat, you cling to the cool porcelain of the toilet for a while more. You're... not sure what to think, what to feel. Part of you wants to sob, but you don't have the energy for it. Some other part of you wants to cheer, but that seems... wrong. Apart from both of those conflicting feelings, you feel a weary sense of relief. Fletcher is alive, and that's what matters... right?

“Oh God,” you whisper, “What did I... what did I do to him?”

“You stripped away his ego barrier. Without that, he was no longer able to maintain human form,” Amon answers quietly, his voice almost... gentle.

“I didn't mean to KILL him,” you protest, “I just wanted to... to...”

“To scare him a little? To make him sit down and behave himself?” Amon tuts, shaking his head slightly, “You should have known better. Your Mister Fletcher gave you the chance to sit this one out, to keep your hands clean. If you're going to get squeamish about things, maybe you should have taken that chance when it was offered. Of course, then he might have-”

The chime of your phone interrupts him. Staggering through to the main room, you fumble for your phone and quickly answer it. Ragged breathing answers you, and then: “Something happened,” Fletcher rasps, “Was that you?”

“I... I think so,” you stammer, “I didn't mean to-”

“Thank you,” Fletcher interrupts, forcing the words out, “Rookie mistake. That grenade caught me by surprise. Think I got some shrapnel in the... it got me somewhere, that's for sure. Think I've got the bleeding slowed now. I hope.”

“What should I do?” you ask nervously, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. Amon is still lurking at the edge of your vision, waiting patiently for you to finish your conversation. Baring your teeth at him in a quick snarl, you turn away. “Fletcher?” you press, “I think I lost your emergency number, who should I-”

“Don't. I can hear someone coming now. I can hear the sirens,” he tries to laugh, coughs, “So much for clean and quiet. Listen, Holly, this might not be over yet. Stay inside, wait for my call. Don't relax just yet.”

Relax? You almost laugh at this. Does he really think you're in the mood to relax?

“Well, you heard him,” Amon remarks, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, “Might as well make ourselves comfortable. Staying inside, though... don't you want to go out and enjoy the night? I'll buy the first round!”

He has got to be fucking kidding.

>You need to stay here. Maybe you can sleep the rest of this mess away...
>Right now, you need a distraction. Going out is just the thing
>Maybe you can call the dorm back in Avalon, hear a friendly voice
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3834885
>You need to stay here.
Don't call anyone, we need to wait for Fletcher's call. And don't sleep for the same reason.

>>3834885
>Maybe you can call the dorm back in Avalon, hear a friendly voice

>>3834885
>Other
Maybe you can call the dorm back in Avalon, hear a friendly voice
Go back to Fletcher, this may not be over. Until the emergency services him somewhere he can get treatment, then call Claire .

>>3834885
>Right now you need a distraction. Going out is just the thing.

Will Amon show us how Lilim party?

>>3834909
He probably try and get us to pay Klaus a 2nd visit.

>>3834885
>Other
We still have Rat's cash, I assume. Ask for another room off the books for the next 12 hours, if possible. If anyone comes to visit, Holly left with Fletcher.

It's not going to help against all-out raid, but may help against a few thugs or give some time to leave in a hurry. Call Monroe.

>>3834885
>>Maybe you can call the dorm back in Avalon, hear a friendly voice

“Not really in the mood to party right now,” you mutter, turning away from Amon, “Kinda want to be alone right now, actually. Why do you keep bothering me, anyway?”

“Because you're alone,” the Lilim answers simply, “This isn't a good place to be alone. You need someone watching your back... as your Mister Fletcher might understand.”

“Yeah, well, I'll take my chances,” you breathe. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before looking around. When you open them again, Amon is gone. Sitting back down on the bed, you tentatively reach out and touch the faintly crumpled sheets where he sat. There's a slight warmth lingering there, so slight that it might be your imagination. Scowling with a venom you don't have the energy to really feel, you lie back and close your eyes once more. Reaching out with your thoughts is a painful process, your astral body aching like an overworked muscle.

Back to the construction site, back to Fletcher. Armoured police prowl towards him, and one barks a question in German. Wearily raising his hands, Fletcher glares at them. “I'm with the UN,” he announces, pronouncing each word with care, “I'm going to reach for my papers. Oh, and you'd better have a medic waiting. I think I've got a hole in my back.” Slowly reaching into his coat, he pulls out a leather wallet and starts to hold it out, only for the lead officer to snatch it out of his hand. “Happy?” Fletcher asks as the officers stare at his papers, a deliberate note of impatience in his voice, “Now, about that medic...”

Looks like he's going to be okay.

-

Sinking back down into your aching flesh, you stare at your phone for a while. It could be hours before Fletcher is able to return, and Amon was right about one thing – this isn't a good time to be alone. Those men at the construction site were expecting visitors, and considering how your meeting with Klaus went... well, maybe he had something to do with that. He might not be done yet. Could an information dealer find out where you're staying?

Maybe. Maybe not. Best to take precautions anyway. Looking over your shoulder all the while, you ride the elevator down to the lobby and approach the front desk. With the practised discretion of a veteran receptionist, the cheerful young woman at the front desk provides you with the room adjacent to yours. Fletcher's cash helps, of course, but she seems to understand... something. You're not sure if you want to know what she's thinking, but you appreciate the secrecy.

Making yourself comfortable in the new room, you spread your things out on the bed. Phone, pistol, knife, brass knuckles... strange things for a teenage girl to carry about with her, but you lead a strange life. Picking up your phone, you carefully dial in the number for your dorm back in Avalon. Right now, you really need to hear a friendly voice.

Even Claudia's voice would do.

[1/?]

>>3834968

The phone rings for a few moments before someone answers. “Hello?” Vic begins, “Holly?”

“How did you guess?” you ask with a faint smile, “I suppose nobody else calls the dorm phone. Uh, is this a bad time? Kinda late where I'm at, but-”

“It's fine. Better than last time, at least,” the young man answers, a forced smile in his voice, “Ah, were you looking for anyone in specific?”

“No, I don't know, I just... I just wanted to talk to someone. I'm all on my own here, and it feels pretty spooky up here. If I don't talk to someone, I might actually end up THINKING about something,” you reply, and the young man laughs softly. This time, the laugh sounds true and real. Holding the line for a few seconds more, you search for something harmless to say. It's hard, so fucking hard. Nate's presence seems to hang over you both like a curse, and you almost find yourself resenting the-

“Claudia tried making a soufflé today,” Vic announces suddenly, “She spent the entire time talking about how excellent it would be, how skilful you need to be to bake one, and then when it came out of the oven... well, it was as flat as a pancake. She blamed everyone else, of course. She said we were talking too loudly. I suppose she might have been right. We were, ah...”

“You were...” you pause, “Talking too loudly?”

“A soufflé is very delicate. Apparently, even a loud noise can cause one to collapse. I mentioned that to Dakota, and she...” Vic clears his throat, and you can tell that he's trying not to laugh, “And she spent most of the afternoon shouting at the oven, just to see if it was possible. I don't know for sure if she was to blame, but... but...” Trailing off here, Vic finally lets out the laugh he was trying to hold in. You join in after a second, the weight lifting from your shoulders as you laugh. No matter how grim things might seem, you've got friends waiting for you back home. There's a strength in that, perhaps.

>Ego increased by 5
>Current Ego: 59/70

“Oh man. I'm glad I called now,” you breathe, still smiling to yourself, “Hey, Vic, can you do me a favour? Can you fetch Commander Monroe for me? I want to have a word with her.”

“I'll see if I can find her,” Vic answers, setting the phone down with a clunk. Taking your own phone away from your ear, you listen to the corridors outside for a while. Heavy footsteps stomp past, and you open the door a tiny crack to peek outside. A heavyset businessman, clearly drunk, lurches past and fumbles at his door, slapping the keycard against the lock before finally unlocking the door and falling inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, you close the door once again.

Just in time to hear Monroe's voice singing out of your phone. “Holly?” she asks, “Are you okay? I've been hearing some bad reports coming out of Berlin. Please tell me you're okay.”

“Well...” you pause, “I'M okay, but-”

But.

[2/3]

Well that was fast.

>>3835042

“Never a dull moment, is there?” Monroe remarks eventually, once you've given her a... brief outline of the situation, “To think, we'd be dealing with NIHIL remnants even now. At least they won't be causing any more trouble. I don't suppose you know-”

“We don't know anything,” you sigh, “There were no survivors. We almost had one, but... the grenade...”

“It's fine. You did the best you could, Holly,” Monroe murmurs, “Just get some rest. Sounds like you could use it.”

“Rest, yeah,” you agree, ending the call there. Holding the silent phone for a moment more, you scroll back through your contacts list and find Claire's number. Staring at it for a long moment, you tap her name and listen as the long-lost voice – still achingly familiar – recites the same old missed call speech. This is all you have left of Claire, this snippet of her voice. When you're old and grey, if you're lucky to live that long, this voice will remain unchanged. Sighing, you call the number again. “Just one more time,” you tell yourself, “Just once more, and then-”

“What the FUCK do you think you're doing?” Claire's voice snaps, “You're working with that thing now? Is it your new best friend or what? Have you forgotten what it DID TO US?”

Jerking the phone away from your ear, as if it was some stinging insect, you try to speak and let out a hoarse croak. Suddenly desperate, you press the phone back to your ear and-

“So, uh, leave a message after the beep. I mean, the tone,” the familiar voice recites, “And I'll try to get back to you, unless I like, forget or something. Peace out.”

And then you're left holding a silent phone, feeling vaguely guilty about...

About everything, really.

-

Drifting on a vaguely comfortable blanket of self-pity, you lie back and stare at the ceiling as you wait for Fletcher to call. Then, you hear another set of heavy footsteps. No drunken ambling this time – these are strong, purposeful strides. Tensing up, you lie very still and listen as the footsteps come to a halt nearby. For a fleeting second, there is a perfect silent... and then a heavy knock shakes the door of your other room. Practically falling out of bed, you creep over to the door and open it a crack. Peering outside, you see a pair of men – both of them wearing blue UN armbands - standing outside.

“I don't think she's here,” one of the officers mutters.

“She has to be here. She wasn't with him,” the other replies, “And she's too smart to go wandering off by herself.” He knocks again, harder this time. “Miss Reynolds?” he calls out, “Are you awake? We need to speak with you, as a matter of some urgency.”

A matter of some urgency.

>Best to stay hidden, wait until they go away
>Reveal yourself, see what the men want
>Other

>>3835140
>>Best to stay hidden, wait until they go away

>>3835140
>Best to stay hidden, wait until they go away
After they leave call Fletcher, ask where he is, then head to him.

>>3835140
>Best to stay hidden, wait until they go away
I don't trust anybody in Berlin other than Fletcher. Not after what happened to Juliet.

>>3835140
We should also turn off the beacon

>>3835140
>Best to stay hidden, wait until they go away

Slowly easing the door shut, you back away and crouch down beside the bed. Anyone looking in would take you for a lunatic, but that's fine. You're fine with looking a little crazy if it keeps you safe. Reaching for your phone, you fumble with the tracking beacon and eventually prise the back open. With the corner of one well gnawed thumbnail, you flick the switch into the off position. Then, you wait. The UN officers try knocking a few more times, and eventually someone in another room yells a muffled obscenity at them. That seems to put an end to their efforts, and soon their heavy footsteps stomp away.

Waiting for a long moment more, you dial Fletcher's number. “Hey, chief, we might have a problem,” you whisper, “Some guys came to my door. They had UN armbands but shit, that doesn't mean anything these days.”

“Well damn,” Fletcher replies, a cheerful slur in his voice, “You didn't invite them in, did you?”

“Of course not!” you snap, “I just kept my head down and waited until they... uh, are you okay?”

“Oh, I'm fine. They got me on the good drugs while they stitch up my back,” he chuckles, “Just wait until you see the bit of metal they pulled out of me. Sure hope I get to keep it. You think Diane would like a souvenir?”

“Yeah, uh, that might be a bit weird,” you answer, increasingly feeling like you're losing control of the conversation, “I guess you're not gonna drop dead on me, then. When, uh, when are they going to let you out?”

Fletcher groans as he thinks. “Should be out by breakfast. Right now, I don't think I could walk in a straight line,” he admits, “Last thing I need right now is to end up strolling into traffic. Anyway, this bed is pretty comfy and I think one of the nurses here is sweet on me. Says I remind her of her father. Shit, though, when did I get so old?” Grumbling quietly to himself for a moment, Fletcher almost lapses into silence before he lets out a grunt. “Oh right. Almost forgot. Apparently, they found something at the construction site. Some papers, something one of those bastards was carrying. Could be some answers,” he adds, “Talk about it in the morning. Until then, don't open that door to nobody.”

“Yes dad,” you sigh, ending the call and dropping the phone.

-

Bad dreams, then the morning sun creeps through the thick curtains and rouses you. Rubbing grit from your eyes, you check your phone – no missed calls, no new messages. Fumbling with keycards, you pack up your things and sneak back into your original room. The sour stench of vomit slaps you in the face as you enter, causing you to gag and cover your nose. Staggering into the bathroom, you flush the toilet again and again until the stench starts to fade. Flicking on the television, you skim through the channels until you find an English version of the news. You're still watching when Fletcher finally knocks at the door.

[1/]

It may be worth it to check if he is a
clone or not as we know that they aren't limited to pilots, As a precaution. It will likely be similar to Juliet so we ask him about the gunfight, and he should be able to remember that, the non combat thing we should probably ask him about its what he said to Romeo.

>>3835253
...and here are the vast fields of cloning vats of all NERV personnel so that we can impersonate them at a moment's notice!
As much as I appreciate proper paranoia, this sounds wildly impractical.

>>3835253
Yeah, it takes months to grow a Juliet and it took forever to them to perfect making 'her'. They cannot drum up a Fletcher clone on the fly.

>>3835275
Well he is the head of security at Avalon(So if they could replace him the security there falls apart),has been to Berlin recently (It only takes two weeks to grow a clone) and has a reasonable reason for being unaccounted for.

Remember, the first thing Juliet remembers is waking up in a hospital.

>>3835289
Ok, but what was the purpose of replacing the original with a clone when such project has been started? If the head office doesn't like him, they can replace him, at least from their point of view. If he is KIA, it's not like the clone retains his skills or memories, right? If he's inciting a rebellion in Avalon, how are you going to send in a puppet to replace him, when the installation is already hostile to any incoming people? You'd have to catch the moment when such a situation is inevitable and somehow lure the guy out to replace him. Why bother when you just can appoint a new guy?

So I get it that it would be very convenient at this particular moment, but 'keeping a meat puppet of our security chief' sounds like an endeavor without much practical utility when you think about it.

>>3835217

“Welcome back,” you begin, “How are you feeling?”

“Rough,” Fletcher grunts, “My back feels like one giant bruise. The doctors gave me some pills, but they barely take the edge off. I'm alive, though, and that's what matters.” You nod slowly, watching as the mercenary eases himself down into a chair. With his haggard, unshaven face and his stiff posture, he looks older than ever before. Noticing your look, Fletcher shakes his head sadly. “Once you get past a certain age, it's all downhill,” he muses, “Life becomes a series of losses. You lose your friends, you lose your strength, and you lose your confidence. By the end, you've got nothing left to lose.”

“I think I preferred you when you were loopy with drugs,” you mutter, “Are you going to be this cheerful all day?”

“A brush with death always puts me in a thoughtful mood,” he remarks, giving you a wry smile of apology. Running a hand across his unshaven cheeks, the mercenary thinks for a moment more. There seems to be something left unsaid, something he doesn't want to put into words. Of course, you've got an idea of what that could be – the small fact that you disintegrated a man in front of his eyes might have something to do with it. “I just need a good breakfast, then I'll be back to normal,” he adds at last, “What do you say? Hungry?”

Nodding, you offer him a hand up. Grunting, Fletcher clutches a hand to his gut as he rises. Pretending not to notice, you escort the wounded man outside. “So,” you ask carefully, “What happened with that sweet nurse of yours?”

“Oh. Her,” he grimaces and smiles, somehow at the same time, “Maybe something could have happened if I was twenty years younger, but...” Trailing off here, Fletcher just shrugs. There's something evasive about that shrug, something that makes you want to pry a little deeper. Tact wins out, and you hold your tongue... for now. “Why are you so curious, anyway?” he asks, glancing down at you, “Jealous?”

“Hey, don't make this weird,” you scold, “I'm just checking your memory. You were pretty out of it last night. Almost sounded like you were a different person.”

“Now you're making it weird,” he counters, “The only me is me, and the only you is you.”

“And no matter where we go, we're all connected,” Amon crows, his sly tone insinuating much and saying little.

“Quite right,” Fletcher agrees, nodding as if you revealed some great truth.

>So I think I'm going to pause things here for tonight. I'll be aiming to continue this next Friday, and I have a midweek interlude episode in the works
>I apologise for the short run this week, work wasn't really playing ball this time

>>3835312
Thanks for the run.
At least we figured out how to contact Claire, so we can explain our actions

>>3835306
Having control over the security apparatus at Avalon would effectively hand them the ability to just put the base into a lock down whenever they feel like and proceed with whatever else they were planing completely unopposed and if not completely whatever response is mustered will likely be significantly weathered when compared to what it could have been . The only person that would likely question their orders is Cam and she isn't going to get to far by herself.

>>3835323
>Having control over the security apparatus at Avalon would effectively hand them the ability to just put the base into a lock down whenever they feel like and proceed with whatever else they were planing completely unopposed

But they already do that by the virtue of being head office! If you don't trust that people will do their job, you don't work with them in the first place! If (un)reasonable doubts occur, you replace them.

>>3835312
Thanks for the run.
>“Quite right,” Fletcher agrees, nodding as if you revealed some great truth.

I sure hope that this (coupled with the paradise mantra in the very first threads, coupled with the thread title) doesn't signal to us that the guy I'm arguing with is right and we have Fletcher backdoored with mind voodoo. That'd be kinda disappointing.

>>3835338
The thing is that Fletcher is and has been a professional when dealing with head office so they have no reason to replace him. What we would be banking on is that when the time comes for action, he decides to supports over enforcing Head office's edicts witch buys us enough time to act (The same goes for Bergmann she is good friends with Fletcher and may end up relying on his support.), if they had a way to ensure that his agency can be taken from him if they need to, based on what we have seen from them i doubt that they would even blink.

>>3835312
Thanks for running!

When will NERV harness Dakota's soufflé deflating powers for the fight against the Lilim?

>>3835355
Turns out, the only way to defeat Lilith for good is a bake-off. Luckily for us, we've got a secret weapon...

>>3835338
>coupled with the thread title
We'd be lucky if we only had ONE suspicious man in our life!

>>3835312
Thanks for running!

Did Fletcher respond to Amon at the end there?

>>3835140
>“What the FUCK do you think you're doing?” Claire's voice snaps, “You're working with that thing now? Is it your new best friend or what? Have you forgotten what it DID TO US?”

I can't tell if that was really Claire or Holly's unstableness combined with her guilt making her hear things. Regardless she is right. Amon still deserves to die for what he did. Just can't really do it yet.

>>3836094
I blame Bergmann more than Amon. She was human and knew what she was doing, and did it anyway.

>>3836788
>Amon was good boy. He dindu nuffin. He's just misunderstood and doesn't understand humans

Fuck off. The asshole is way more human than he'd like to admit and knew what he was doing when disintegrated those kids. Selective vindictiveness is retarded and your arbitrary reason for the Lilim with the most free will to get a pass is asinine. By your logic we should be sparing all the other Lilim since they are even more alien than Amon. They didnu nuffin.

Amon and Bergmann and whoever else was involved is going to pay.

>>3836795
I never said Amon was guiltless. Just that Bergmann deserves the lion's share.

>>3836797
In regards to the Circle Eleven Trials, there is still a large number of things that we could learn to further refine our feelings. (These could go to either Amon or Bergmann)
Why pick Compass Academy as the trial site.
Why the Candidates that were selected, were selected.
Bergmann said that the reason for the trials to be held was that they needed Soldiers for the coming war, though they already had a cloning process that was at very least, soon to be functional.

>>3835312
I had an idea. How possible is it that Holly Eats her ADM unit like Amon wanted her to eat Huang?

>>3836990
I don't think Our AT Field is powerful enough for that at the moment maybe after we got both types of enhancement available then used a restored Excalibur to boost Our field strength it may actually be possible.

>>3836998
I thought using Excalibur was implied to kill the user via Ego death. Setting up the whole final sacrifice to kill Lilith.

>>3837030
Only a risk of it occurring, of course they don't state how likely it is to occur though.

From Thread #11 post >>3737286
“Maybe they're showing off too,” Vic jokes, and you both laugh briefly. Reading on, Vic frowns as his laughter trails off. “Now, this is odd. Maybe you'll understand this better than I do,” he continues, “It says here that Excalibur's hilt is still a powerful tool, although they don't call it a weapon. It's an amplifier, and a control unit. Controlling what, though, I couldn't say for sure. It just says here that it might be used to amplify “abilities” of the user, albeit at a risk of “Ego collapse”. Again, whatever that means.”

>>3837038
Well the issue here is that Holly is the most susceptible to Ego collapse because of her being unstable. Not something we should use lightly.

>>3837055
Considering that the Hilt is somewhere at Temple I don't think that we are going to have a chance to use it unless someone else recovers it for us or something unforeseen happens and even then there will likely be better cadidtes for it's use.

Like Juliet, Claudia, Nate or Coraline.

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Journal Fragment
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These people are afraid of me.

That's what Reed says, at least. She sees it more than I do, she notices the things that I overlook and she whispers truths in my ear at night. Let them be afraid, let them plot against me - I don't care what they think. These people are below me now. There were doubters and deserters before, but never so much as there are now. Let them flee, if that is what they desire. There is not a single place on this Earth that they can flee too.

It's because of the syringe, of course. Our last sample of Lilim biomass. In the grips of my fever, I obsessed over it. I dreamed of pouring it into the swamps, bringing forth new and terrible life. The jungle would become something alien... at least, until NERV sent someone to burn it all down. I could have accepted that, if they sent HER, but they wouldn't dare. They would send one of their dolls to do the dirty work, while praising themselves for having clean hands.

The syringe, then. Some of the men wanted to sell it as a weapon, sell it to whichever rogue state would offer them the most money. What did the old man ever see in such banal, petty soldiers? He saw obedience, of course, so long as he had deep pockets. Now, the money is running out and the men grow restless. Selling the Biomass could have made every one of them a king, but I wouldn't allow it. I had other plans.

Injections. Doctor Wilson always used to apologise when he gave me and Reed our injections, as if we weren't already used to pain. I think I hated him a little even then, although it took me a long time to realise it. Looking back, those mumbled apologies seemed like a desperate plea – the sound of a man trying to convince himself that he was still good at heart. Just as hypocritical as all the rest, once you peel back the skin.

It burned, when I took the injection. It burned through my body like acid, and I truly did think that I would be consumed by it... but then you were there, Reed. You held me and whispered familiar words in my ear until the worst had passed. You told me that you would always be with me. So what if the others flee or turn on us? We don't NEED them. We don't need anyone, anyTHING, else.

All we need is...

Is...

I close my eyes, and I see the ocean. The same ocean that the old man saw? I don't know. There's only one person who can say what the old man saw before the end, and he's not going to talk. What he saw is irrelevant now. It doesn't matter. I'm sinking now, sinking down to the bottom, and that's all that matters. It's peaceful down there.

I think this ocean might go on forever.

[1/3]

>>3840879

Interview Transcript.
Subject: Fisher, Dakota.

Dakota Fisher: Man, I don't know about this...
Elizabeth Matheson: You're not afraid of me, are you? I'm just as human as you are, and I'm nothing to be afraid of.
DF: Hey, I'm not afraid! I just don't think I should be doing this alone. Last time, I could bring a friend in. Can't we put this on hold until Holly gets back?
EM: That might take some time, you know. She's really very busy, and it's important work she's doing.
DF: I know.
EM: Really, very important indeed. She works very hard.
DF: I know, okay?
EM: She's working very hard, but what have you ever done for us?
(A soft gasp here, estimated to be DF. There is no-one else who could have gasped. She is alone here. You can't help her now.)
EM: What have you actually achieved since coming here? One spectacularly failed experiment, and then you shy away from active duty. You just hang around, getting in the way of the real pilots while they try to protect mankind.
DF: You bitch...
EM: You know I'm right, Dakota. If I was lying, you could just laugh these words off. You could tell yourself that it was all some wicked trick, and that would be the end of it. It's not that easy, though, is it? Consider what happened yesterday, how senseless and spiteful that was.
DF: Yesterday? What the fuck happened... wait, is this about that stupid pudding thing?
EM: It was a soufflé, actually.
DF: Oh, who fucking CARES?
EM: You certainly don't. You didn't care about Claudia's feelings when you ruined her surprise. Did it occur to you that she might have been trying to do something nice for everyone? Did you think about that before you spoiled everything for her?
DF: No, but-
EM: No. No you didn't.
(A long silence)
DF: I… I don't want to talk about this.
EM: That's fine, we can talk about something else instead. Why don't you tell me about the Dark Place?
(Silence)
EM: Yes, I know about it. I know that you were thrown in there after... well, it was another bit of senseless cruelty, wasn't it?
DF: I never meant to do it!
EM: Thrown down into that deep, dark pit, with the head of that slaughtered beast staring at you... except it wasn't just the beast, was it? There was someone else down there too.
(Silence)
EM: Who was it, Dakota? Did they do something to you?
DF: You're just trying... trying to trick me. Holly said you'd-
EM: Holly isn't here. We'll have to get to the bottom of this ourselves, just you and me. So tell me, right from the start. What happened down in the Dark Place?
DF: I don't... I don't know any more. I thought I did, but...
EM: That's okay, Dakota, that's fine. We'll figure this out together.

[2/3]

>>3840880

NERV Personal Log.

Well, that's another day coming to an end. Another day of nothing, rushing past far too fast for comfort. I don't know where to start, actually. It's been hard, putting my thoughts into words. I thought it might be easier if I sat down to write it out – no editing, no taking things back, nothing like that – but it seems harder, if anything. I almost wish the Lilim WERE attacking. At least then, we'd all know where we stand.

I hate that portal. I hate knowing that it's out there, and we can't do a damn thing about it. The science team is absolutely, positively certain that it's not currently expanding, but could they confirm that it wouldn't START growing? No, of course not. They can't predict anything with any degree of certainty. Three cheers for modern science.

Ingrid watches it almost constantly these days. She has a monitor set up, live broadcast of the portal, and she just... stares into it for hours at a time. I'm worried about her. I'm worried about EVERYONE here. The girls, especially. They're all struggling to deal with this waiting, and the tensions are starting to show.

Kaori is training too hard, spending long hours at the firing range when she should be sleeping. Claudia has been insisting on seeing her ADM Unit – at one point, we even found her sleeping in front of it. Yulia is working hard too, sending off constant suggestions for the probe project, but they're ignoring everything she sends. The frustration is getting to her, I think. Dakota hasn't been herself either – I tried to speak with her today, and she just blanked me. At least Karina has been pacing herself, although she seems... distant. Juliet's the same – she tells me she's fine, but sometimes I see this look in her eye...

I see the look in their eyes, and I feel so powerless. We're doing our best to protect them from the Lilim, and I'm trying to protect them from... dirty politics, but how can we protect them from themselves? How can we protect them from the wounds they carry within their hearts?

I can't even protect myself.

I'm no fool. I know what people see when they look at me – the desperation, the phony smiles, the weakness. I'm trying my best, but what if that just isn't enough?

Oh well. If the end of the world is coming, I don't have the energy to fight against it. Maybe in the morning, but not now. For now, I need a drink. Bartender, I'll have another bourbon!

And this time, make it a double.

>This concludes today's interlude episode. Regular updates will continue late on Friday
>Thank you for reading along today!

>This interlude

It all returns to nothing,
it all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down.
It all returns to nothing,
I just keep letting me down, letting me down, letting me down~

So Coraline has lost it. Her only hope now is finding evidence of the real Reed in the portal, talking with Holly, and then burning out the Lilim that's growing in her head. We'll probably also need to fight her.

Dakota is getting Matheson'd and the rest of the pilots are fraying at the edges.

Ok, so Matheson should be able to be dealt with by Bergmann's plan the sooner it goes ahead the better Also it should go smother if we reveal the relevant contents of Nate's diary to her, In order to deal with Bergmann we can either defuse her situation by finding out what happened to Johanna After all what better way to stick it to your nemesis then use her Child to bring about your eternal victory (as we have not seen any indication of what Matheson is doing with the Metatron data I fear the worst, if i had to guess it's likely taking place wherever Coraline and Reed were training. ) or Kill her if she won't reconsider her position on pursuing her plans and or help us deal with the others.

In order to deal with Coraline we need to get back into contact with her, to talk about what happened to Reed Hopefully we can show her a video of Huang, as she is proof that we can fix her, and maybe leverage the Cloning program in order to assist us with recovering Reed by providing a preformed body for her to use

>>3840920
What makes you think Johanna didn't die with her father? Yes we only saw from the father's perspective when fighting Nebiros, but there was *a lot* of people in Nebiros we didn't see memories from and there hasn't been any evidence of her being alive.

>>3840934
It's more an attempt to find closure for Bergmann, if we can get confirmation (We could trade with Leighton to see what he can turn up if we need to.)

Why would the UN allow Nebrios to roam freely for so long without Calling in NERV to deal with them, why would they send in teams to sort through the aftermath, what could they be looking for and, why would they obfuscate and hide the damage report from NERV.

We don't actually know where Johanna was during the attack and since she is around Dakota's age and that Nebrios attacked during the middle of the day, she likely wouldn't have been with her Father she would have been at School or elsewhere depending on the exact timing.

Matheson had to learn to sing from someone, and I doubt that Amon can replicate other Lilium or teach others how to.

>>3840879
>Interlude title

I wish that someday, somehow
That I could save every one of us,
But the truth is that I'm only one girl~

That song does kind of fit Holly's situation a bit

By the way confirmation that Matheson was the Egg donor for Karina comes from
Thread #9 post>>3680990
“Oh, personal reasons. I was looking for my sister, actually. Well... we're not blood related. It's complicated. When things started getting spicy here, I got drafted in to help with the logistics. I might not be much of a field commander, but I can certainly sign paperwork!” Adrian laughs, “Now come on, I don't think you want to be stuck in bed. Why don't we get up and have a walk? The city isn't exactly picturesque right now, but... ah, how rude of me. You're probably still feeling too weak to get up and walk about now.”

As she is the step sister that Amon was looking for while he was in Germany. This is something else that could potentially be used against Matheson by Bergmann , or we could tell Karina, and see what happens.

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As Fletcher steadily works his way through a mountain of breakfast, you watch him and wonder. Maybe it IS just the brush with death, as he suggested, but he doesn't seem quite like himself. Once, you wouldn't have thought too much about it – you would have taken the explanation he gave you and been happy with that. At the very least, you wouldn't have thought to question it further. Now, though, in your post-Juliet world, you're not so easily deterred. What if he's NOT the same man?

But then, it didn't take long to see the cracks in Juliet's armour. Even from the start, you could see her abnormality. Fletcher, so far, hasn't shown any sign of that same hollow nature. It's not quite enough to put an end to your doubts, but it goes a long way to dampening them down.

“Hey chief,” you ask softly, “Tell me something that only you would know.”

“What kind of question is that?” Fletcher counters, frowning thoughtfully, “Well, let me see. Something I haven't told anyone else... Regent.”

Good start. “Yeah?” you press, “What about him?”

“Possible source, close to Leighton. We were just reaching out to each other when we were sent to Temple. Could be here in Berlin, if he's really connected to Leighton,” the mercenary explains quickly, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not one person on this planet, aside from me and you, know about that. Well, I suppose Regent himself might know, but... I think we can rule him out. Is that good enough for you?”

“For now,” you remark, forcing a pout, “What's going on with him, anyway?”

Fletcher sighs. “I have a feeling that he knows we're here already. Gut instinct. But, it's obviously not safe for him to reveal himself. Even sending a message might blow his cover. If he's smart, and I've got no reason to believe that he isn't, he'll wait until we're long gone before making a move,” he answers, “I'm willing to take things at his pace. You can't rush these things, you know.”

“Gotta take it slow, gotta be smooth and patient,” you muse, a curious smile replacing your pout, “You make it sound almost romantic.”

“God, I hope not,” the mercenary groans, “I've never had much luck with that sort of thing.” His smile is all too brief, soon fading into a more sombre introspection. “I don't want you to end up like me,” he murmurs, his breakfast forgotten.

Like him. You wonder about that, about what kind of man Fletcher really is. A man with no true friends, only contacts and allies. While civil enough, he's always been that little bit detached from Monroe and the other NERV staff. Yulia's yearnings have been met with calm indifference, and even your own relationship has been a bipolar struggle between hostility and cooperation. That's the kind of man he is, except...

“You're not that alone,” you point out weakly, “You've got uh... Bergmann?”

“For now,” he mutters.

[1/2]

>>3843613

“Did it bother you, when I killed those men?”

This question, asked much later, causes you to glance around in surprise. Fletcher still has that contemplative look on his face, and you wonder if he WANTS you to call him out. “Hey, it was four against one. You didn't have the luxury of being honourable,” you answer with a cautious shrug, “But whatever. Did you find out what those guys were looking for?”

“Not exactly,” Fletcher answers, happily accepting your attempt at changing the subject, “But then, I don't think those men knew what they were looking for either.”

“Uh...” you pause, “What?”

“The men had some documents, outdated maps of the original Berlin facility, but that wasn't enough information for a targetted search. They probably took the maps from the NIHIL files, but that hardly matters now. The current theory is, they were looking for ANY weapon, anything they could use against a Lilim,” he explains, “Or an ADM Unit.”

How desperate must they have been, to risk everything they had left for a chance of MAYBE finding a weapon? “Must be one hell of a weapon,” you mutter, “Seems to me like we could use some local knowledge. You mentioned a scientist, right?”

“Doctor Brahms, yes. He's very much a local man, and I was planning to meet with him today. Not just to see what he has to say about this potential weapon, but... I want to get a measure of him,” Fletcher thinks aloud, “A full background check is one thing, but you never really KNOW a man until you meet him in person.”

“And sometimes,” you reply, unable to stop yourself, “You still can't know them after meeting them.”

Tactful as ever, Fletcher ignores that comment. “The simple fact is, I don't know if I trust him yet,” he admits, giving you a calculated shrug, “I'm not so naïve to think that everyone within NERV is our friend, and Berlin is definitely UN territory. If we were to reach out to Doctor Brahms, to look into bringing him into the Avalon branch, we need to be absolutely certain of who we're dealing with... and where his loyalties really lie.”

“Maybe they lie with mankind,” you suggest, giving the mercenary a humourless smile, “And with the NERV project as a whole.”

“That would be nice, wouldn't it? But as I said, I'm not naïve enough to believe it,” Fletcher sighs, “I'm planning to meet with Doctor Brahms later today, but I could arrange an earlier meeting if you want to see him for yourself. I should warn you, though – he probably knows a lot more about you than you'll know about him. He'll have read your file.”

That fucking file could be on the bestsellers list, with all the people who seem to have read it.

>Forget it. I don't want to deal with this guy
>I'll meet with him alone. I want to know what I'm dealing with
>We'll wait and meet him together. I'll want backup on this one
>There's something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>3843617
>I'll meet with him alone. I want to know what I'm dealing with.

Is there anything else he was going to be doing or wants us to do today.
Should we ask to see if he can arrange for us to meet Leighton or at least talk to him.

>>3843617
>We'll wait and meet him together. I'll want backup on this one

>>3843617
>>I'll meet with him alone. I want to know what I'm dealing with
"Though if you think that's a bad idea you should speak up. I need to make it clear how done I am with being patient with assholes, specially scientists. This guy tries to get under my skin he might end up with a boot in the face, ruining our budding relationship here. Just giving you fair warning."

>Other
"Did you learn anything at the Academy or is the only way we are getting anything is if I do my thing? Do they have subsonics there?"

“I think I'll meet with him alone. I want to know who I might be dealing with,” you reply slowly, tasting the words in your mouth, “But I want your opinion here – your actual, honest opinion. Do you think this is a good idea? Because I think we both know how fucking DONE I am with... with everything.”

“Would it be a good idea?” Fletcher muses, “I don't know. How bad could it be?”

“A smug scientist gets a mouthful of my boot?” you suggest, “How bad would that be?”

“Fairly bad, I'd say. But, frankly, I'd be willing to accept that as an outcome. If you can't work with Brahms, there would be no point in reaching out to him,” the mercenary shrugs, “Although if you couldn't work with him OR Doctor Bergmann, we might start running into some issues. So, I can arrange for the two of you to have a conversation – nothing formal, no commitments – and then we can all meet up later.”

You both pause here, falling silent as a police siren wails somewhere outside your hotel room. Just for a second, there's a razor sharp edge in Fletcher's eyes. Then it's gone again, and he's back with you. “Sure, we'll have our little tea party,” you decide, “Anything else going on today?”

“Not much. We'll be able to see some of the facilities in Academy, but I wouldn't expect anything too exciting. I think it's about time that we planned our exit,” the mercenary looks away, grimacing, “I've seen everything I need to see here.”

“What DID you see?” you ask quietly, sensing the bitterness in his voice, “When you first went to Academy, what were you able to learn?”

“Nothing I'm particularly happy about. The security... I trained most of these people, and they're damn good at their jobs, but they're not MY people. The entire installation is a fortress that puts Avalon to shame,” he shakes his head, “I was able to find a few familiar faces, have a few “off the record” conversations, and the news there wasn't much better. Everything I've learned points in one direction.”

“War,” you guess, “They're preparing for war.”

Fletcher scowls.

-

Academy. Like Avalon, the site has a nondescript look – a block of concrete apartments built around a central cargo elevator. Fletcher quietly points out the defensive features as you approach, pointing to reinforced sections of wall and overlapping lines of fire. Any hostile soldiers trying to force an entrance would be cut to pieces. From the tone of his voice, Fletcher sounds like he knows what he's talking about – like he's seen it happen before.

With the hairs on the back of your neck bristling, you pass through the first security checkpoint. UN soldiers patrol the area, barely glancing around as you start up the main elevator. As the platform begins to descend, Fletcher gives you a deliberately casual look.

“A single ADM could crack this place open like a nut,” he murmurs, saying nothing more on the matter.

[1/?]

>>3843679

You're not sure where Fletcher goes after you arrive at the meeting room, or even the exact moment that he leaves you, but soon you find yourself alone. The meeting room itself is large, irrationally so, with one entire wall taken up by a tank of colourful fish. The shimmering blue light plays out across a long table and stiff, formal chairs, but the impression granted is one of lifelessness. Crossing over to the table, you almost expect to see a layer of dust formed atop it. Foolish, you scold yourself, this place is newly built.

But still, it FEELS ancient.

“Forgive my lateness,” a voice rings out, causing you to look hurriedly around. At the far end of the room, a single figure emerges from a brightly lit doorway. He approaches, and you make out more details. A neat suit, dark hair worn slightly above the shoulder, severe features made sharper still by metal spectacles. His voice is clear and tight, each word bitten off. Marching across the meeting room, he offers out a hand for you to shake. “Brahms,” he announces, “Doctor Quentin Brahms.”

“Quentin?” you repeat, almost laughing although you're not sure why.

“Yes,” the doctor confirms, “Does that amuse you?”

Suddenly put on the spot, you flounder for a moment. “Uh, no, not really. It's just... you don't really look like a “Quentin” to me. Not that, uh, not that I really know what one of those look like,” you reply hastily, struggling for some way to change the subject, “So what's with all the fish?”

As if noticing them for the very first time, Brahms turns and gazes across the vast enclosure. “I suppose some people find them relaxing,” he suggests at last, “I think it's in rather poor taste, actually. We humans have decreed that these little animals will live and die in this tiny enclosure, and then we have the gall to call it relaxing. It suggests a certain arrogance, I think.” Looking away from the fish tank, Brahms allows his fingers to trail across the table. “But then, one would suggest an alternative theory. These fish are fed and cared for, kept in an enclosure painstakingly tailored to suit their needs,” he continues, “In that regard, they might think of this as heaven.”

“They're fish,” you point out, “I don't think they have the concept of heaven.”

“Neither do a great many men,” Brahms counters, “Instead, they seek earthly pleasures.”

“So what do you seek?” you ask, sitting insolently on the edge of the table and giving Brahms a deliberately mocking look. Pushing him, goading him... with no apparent success.

“At the moment? A way to improve operational efficiency for an active ADM Unit,” the doctor answers, his voice bland, “Their current battery life is barely sufficient, and the reliance on external power cables to compensate... a crude, inelegant solution. Hardly a solution at all, in fact.”

[2/3]

>>3843740

“But I don't think you came here to discuss the fish,” Brahms adds, dismissing the aquarium with a slight gesture, “Before we continue, I want to make something clear – for your sake, and for mine. I know about what we did to you, Miss Reynolds. It's not something that I can excuse or endorse, and I won't attempt to justify it. I've been briefed on you, and I did my own research when I learned that you were in Berlin.”

“I figured as much,” you reply with a shrug, “And what, if I might ask, did this research suggest?”

“That what we did to you may have left you dangerously unstable,” Brahms answers unflinchingly, refusing to look away, “Through no fault of your own, I believe that you have the potential to be incredibly dangerous.”

Holding his gaze for a moment longer, you're finally forced to look away. Covering up the flinch with a scoff, you shake your head. “Wow,” you sneer, “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn't,” he replies sadly.

Suddenly feeling unsure, and vaguely ashamed of yourself, you look back to him. His expression is calm and controlled, while every single word he's said so far has been chosen with immaculate care. Politely ignoring your scrutiny, Brahms takes his spectacles off and polishes them with a deep red cloth. “Okay, so maybe I won't take it as a compliment,” you mutter eventually, feeling suitably chastised, “I was only joking anyway.”

“I'm not known for my sense of humour,” Brahms answers dryly, “I will apologise, however, for my blunt words. I thought it best that I be... upfront with you.”

Now that IS a novelty. Brahms waits patiently for your reply, but you hold your tongue for a moment more. He's a hard man to figure out, especially with so little to go on. His silence draws out, nagging at you until you're forced to speak. “You know, we're supposed to be talking,” you point out, “So... talk.”

“By all means,” the doctor agrees, giving you a graceful nod, “What shall we talk about?”

You were kinda hoping he wouldn't say that.

>There's no point in talking. I've heard enough
>Why don't we talk about... (Write in)
>Other

>>3843798
>Why don't we talk about... (Write in)
His opinion on what they are doing with the Clones from Temple here in Academy.

I wonder what his opinion would be on what they are doing to Nate right now if he knew.

>>3843798
>How you feel about the UN and NERV

Oh man I actually like him.

>>3843798
>Why don't we talk about... (Write in)
Let's start with something safe and then work our way down into the harder stuff.

"You mentioned working on coming up with improvements to the efficiency of our ADMs. What have you come up with so far and will it effect the pilots in any way?"

Then
"From where I'm sitting I'm seeing disasters loom over us like a guillotine and no, I'm not talking about the Lilim. NERV, the UN, Head Office. Everyone's got an agenda for the future and if they don't they are usually being used by someone who does. What's your take on all this? Where do you stand? Is humanity going to end up killing each other before the Lilim have a chance to?

Then finally
"Let's talk about the Clone imprinting you have going on here. I'm sure they are incredibly efficient aren't they? Not having to deal with brats like us and having to power of the ADM units. An army is being raised here, but to fight against who I wonder? We've taken down most of the Lilims on our own. Whoever controls your dolls is going to be incredibly powerful."

“I mean, we could fuck around with awkward small talk or whatever, but I don't think either of us wants that,” you reply, “So what about the work you're doing here? What do you make of what they're doing with the clones Temple sends over?”

Of course, Brahms takes his time to answer this. He thinks carefully, tapping one finger against his forehead as he does so. “I'm sure you've heard the official line already, that the constructs are a more efficient and ethical way to combat the Lilim, so I won't bother to repeat that,” he begins, “As a matter of personal opinion, I think the Juliet series has failed to live up to expectations. Their full potential still eludes us.”

“Okay...” you murmur, “And what does that actually MEAN?”

“In brief, it means that I don't envision them replacing natural human pilots, if you'll excuse the crude term, any time soon,” Brahms explains, “We've tested the constructs in extensive simulated training, and they simply cannot match a “natural” pilot. When pushed to the absolute limit of their strength, the constructs are prone to failure. They lack resolve, if you want to call it that. Where a regular human pilot might find some last desperate resolve, the Juliet series are prone to giving up, accepting defeat.”

Because they lack what you have, you realise, because they don't have anything real. No matter how many scavenged memories they force into their constructs, no matter what personalities they patch together, it's not real. When things get tough, that matters. “So you're not impressed with the constructs,” you deduce, “What about the rest of it? UN and NERV, the whole thing?”

“I can't say that I'm entirely impressed on that regard either,” he admits, turning and giving the aquarium a disinterested look, “I have little to say about the political or military record. I simply lack the knowledge to offer an educated opinion. In terms of our scientific work, I fear that my colleagues too often put progress above caution. They make hasty decisions, caring little about the consequences. Does that strike you as a strange attitude for me to take, considering my position?”

“It's certainly different,” you reply, opting for a more... neutral stance.

“Different. Yes,” Brahms sighs, “I believe that scientific progress must be kept at a controlled pace, lest it run wild and cause more harm than good. Unfortunately, few of my colleagues share that opinion. Some even hold the exact opposite view, blithely plunging into uncharted waters with no regard for the damage left in their wake. You know, I expect, who I'm talking about.”

You could write a list, but one name would be right at the top of it. “Bergmann,” you state. One word, that's all you need to say.

“Appalling woman,” Brahms muses, and just for a second you see a flicker of personality – a spasm of distaste creasing his brow.

[1/?]

>>3843878

“Well,” Brahms adds quickly, “I've never actually met her, face to face, but her reputation speaks for itself. I do apologise if I've misjudged her, but I rather suspect that I haven't.”

There's a minefield stretching out before you. Carefully, you step back from it. “Let's... leave that issue be for now,” you remark, “You said you've been working on improving the efficiency of the ADM batteries. How's that working out for you?”

“Poorly, I'm afraid to say. With a few refinements to the internal power system, we can eke out a few extra seconds from the existing power supply, but that's barely worth calling a success. The entire endeavour is almost certainly doomed to failure,” the scientist frowns at this, irked by even this small admission of defeat, “I wonder if I've offended one of my superiors here, being assigned to this battery conundrum. It certainly feels like a punishment.”

So he wouldn't be opposed to a transfer to another department. That could be good to know.

“Office politics, huh?” you offer with a wry smile, “Seems like everyone has their own angle, and it sure isn't the greater good.” Leaving this thread dangling, you wait to see if Brahms will take the bait. He very deliberately does not, saying nothing at all. “I'm being serious, you know,” you press, “Don't bullshit me with that “I don't know about politics” talk. You've got to have seen it – we've got factions forming, and it might not be long before we start butting heads. Humanity might end up wiping itself out before the Lilim have half a chance.”

“That may be true,” he concedes, “But I don't like to consider the idea. Truth be told, I have little taste for schemes and secrets. If I know very little about politics, that's because of a deliberate choice on my part. I keep my head down, and I work to the best of my ability.”

“But the fruits of that work might end up being used against other humans,” you point out, “Even if they're still flawed, those constructs sure would make for effective soldiers, don't you think?”

Brahms doesn't reply to this, which is an answer all by itself. “I'd like to ask you something,” he announces eventually, “About Doctor Bergmann. Is her reputation accurate?”

“Well, I... I guess that depends on what her reputation is like,” you venture, “What have you heard about her?”

“Firstly, I barely consider her a scientist at all. By all accounts, she has set herself up as both goddess and high priestess of her own religion. She has almost entirely descended into the esoteric and the arcane, while leaving behind any semblance of morality,” Brahms answers, “She is dangerous, in both a practical and an ideological sense.”

“But,” he adds after a reluctant pause, “She gets results.”

>Yeah, and I'm proof of those “results”
>NERV needs her, now more than ever
>She's dangerous, exactly like you said
>Bergmann is... (Write in)
>Other

>>3843936
>Yeah, and I'm proof of those “results”
And i'm not the only one either.

I think he should be a suitable replacement for Bergmann, but would need to be watched as to prevent him from contributing too heavily to Matheson's plan, or blowing up the wherever he is based when he solves the power issues.

>>3843936
>"She's dangerous, exactly like you said."

No sense of right and wrong. Plus a true scientist would never hoard their knowledge to try and make themselves indispensable.

>>3843936
>Yeah, and I'm proof of those “results”. Including ten other dead kids, one of which was my best friend, but hey NERV got their little soldier. I wonder if they regret it now considering how much of a pain in their ass I've been sometimes.

"The woman is brilliant and could hold the keys to the Lilim's destruction, but left unchecked she can also tear down the walls around us and the entire human race for the sake of her research. Part of me thinks there is some semblance of a woman in there that might be able to be reached. Another part of me doesn't care, as there is still a debt to be paid."

“Oh yeah, and I'm proof of those results,” you sneer, “Me, and ten other dead kids... along with God only knows how many other victims. I bet NERV is regretting that decision now, seeing how much of a pain in the ass I've become. Is that what you'd call “results”, or-”

“Whatever else we can lay at her feet, we owe her a great debt of knowledge. Almost all of our theories regarding AT Fields are rooted in Doctor Bergmann's research. So, yes, I have to concede that point to her,” Brahms replies calmly, “But her past achievements cannot outweigh the current harm she may one day pose to mankind. Do you know, just recently, she submitted a new theory – an idea that one day, men might be able to weaponise AT Fields in the same manner as a Lilim. Can you imagine a soldier with that kind of ability?”

Flinching slightly, you see the man from before disintegrating under the force of your uncontrolled attack. Not just dying, but being so utterly destroyed that-

“Yeah, I get it, she's brilliant. In her own way, I think she really does hold the keys to the Lilim's destruction,” you snap, wincing at the sound of your own voice and carefully calming yourself. “But if she's left unchecked, she could tear down everything we've done for the sake of her research. At times, I've seen... I've almost seen the woman in her, not just the scientist or the monster, but she's so far away. I don't know if I can reach that woman, and part of me... part of me doesn't want to reach her. I've still got debts to pay.”

Brahms nods once, the gesture clinically precise. “I won't give you a lecture about revenge, and the senselessness of it. In truth, I don't know how I would feel if I was placed in your position. I might yearn for revenge too,” he says carefully, “But I would advise caution. Doctor Bergmann has been very careful to make her position... secure.”

“Yeah, that's one way of putting it. Hoarding her knowledge and using it as a weapon, a bit of blackmail material...” scowling, you shake your head, “That's not how a real scientist is supposed to act, is it?”

“No,” he agrees, “No, it is not.”

Still sitting, perched on the edge of the table, you stare down at your hands for a long moment. Brahms waits, his gaze still fixed on the aquarium. Despite his earlier disinterest in the fish, he seems to have found a new fascination in them. “She killed my friend,” you murmur at last, “My best friend. Like, what am I supposed to... what am I even supposed to DO about that?”

“I can't tell you that,” Brahms answers, “Nobody can.”

“Sometimes, I wish they could,” you breathe, “It would make this all so much easier.”

[1/2]

>>3844020

With the soft hum of sleek engineering, a door glides open behind you. Turning, you see Fletcher standing in the doorway. “Hope I wasn't interrupting anything,” he begins, “But I needed a quick word with my assistant here. Doctor Brahms, I'd like to speak with you as well. For now, could I ask for a little privacy?”

“Of course,” the doctor replies, nodding slightly in Fletcher's direction. Without another word, he slips out of the meeting room. Without him around, the whole mood of the room seems to change – it's like the entire place lets out a sigh of relief.

“So?” Fletcher asks, sitting down in one of the many vacant chairs, “What's the verdict?”

“I don't know. On the face of it, he seems decent enough. Like, he's not arrogant or conniving or planning to murder us all – at least, I don't think he is – so that's a good start. On the other hand, I almost feel like I haven't learned a single thing about him. He barely mentioned himself at all, anything about his family or his ambitions or... anything personal,” you sigh, fumbling for the right words, “And there were times when it felt like... like it didn't really matter what I said. I could have screamed or cursed, or burst out crying, and his reaction would have been the same calm.”

Fletcher considers this, running a hand across his unshaven cheek as he thinks. “I see,” he decides eventually, “So we'll call it a work in progress. I've got some news for you, actually. Leighton.”

“Leighton,” you repeat, “Wait, is this good news or bad news?”

“News. Just news,” the mercenary shrugs, “He's asked to see me. Both of us, actually, and he isn't really “asking”. That would imply that we have any choice in the matter. It won't be a very long visit, and you won't need to say very much. After all, Leighton is likely to have his full compliment of aides and staff around him, taking up his attention. It'll be boring, I'm sure, but just be patient and endure it. Watch and learn, that's all I'll ask of you.”

It takes you a moment to realise. “I get it,” you murmur, “Watch his aides for any sign of-”

With a single raised finger, Fletcher silences you. Then, his eyes flick up to the ceiling, and the single red light, the blinking eye of a security camera, stares back down at you.

Even here, you're never as alone as you think.

>So I think I'm going to pause this here for today. I'll be aiming to continue this tomorrow, and I should be able to run on Monday as well
>Thank you for your contributions today!

>>3844075
Thanks for the Run.

Are we going to get a chance to kick Leighton in the shins?

>>3844075
>but just be patient and endure it

Oh no. Our weakness.

Thanks for running.

>>3844075
Thanks for running!

What does Holly think she's supposed to be watching for?

>>3844109
Anyone acting suspicious, really! More specifically, Regent - Fletcher's potential new contact - may be among Leighton's staff. Best to keep open eyes and an open mind

>>3844087
That sounds highly irresponsible!

>>3844147
Oh man
I would not have the confidence to think I could suss that out during a short meeting. Good for Holly.

>>3844161
We should be able to narrow the field down during the meeting itself, then take a peek though their memories to get the confirmation we need.

File: QuentinB.png (306 KB, 900x700)

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As sleek and smooth as anything you're used to in Avalon, the elevator carries you deeper into Academy. You're going to visit what Brahms calls, with some slight disgust, the “cenotes”. You're not sure what he's more disgusted with – the casual flippancy with which his colleagues talk about them, or how incorrect the name is. A cenote, he explained in a particularly uptight voice, is a natural rock formation.

There's nothing natural about what goes on down there.

From the moment you arrive, a chemical smell slaps you in the face. Unlike Laing's office back in Temple, there's no attempt at softening the stench here, no attempt at covering it up with incense or perfumes. Somewhere deeper within the lab, you can hear the throbbing rumble of some great machine. On the screen before you is the image of a girl, her features uncannily reminiscent of Juliet's own face. She's submerged in deep water, enclosed within a narrow steel cylinder with a blunt mask covering the lower half of her face. On the next screen, you see a diagram of the steel cylinder – a long tube delving deeper still, the girl currently held at the far bottom.

“The constructs are still inert when we insert them into the bottom of the enclosure,” Brahms explains, his voice as deliberate as always, “Then, we slowly reduce the oxygen concentration being fed to them through that mask. It sounds cruel when I put it like that, doesn't it?”

Now, at least, you can see why he thought the aquarium was in poor taste. “I don't really get it,” you admit, “You... drown them?”

“We put them in a position where drowning is one possible outcome. I'm told that you've seen the cultivation chambers in Temple, so you understand their initial nature. Blank slates are of no use to us, but they possess the potential to be more than that. Provided with the appropriate stimuli, they can be made complete,” touching a key on the computer, Brahms switches to a different set of footage, “The conditions in these enclosures are carefully controlled to replicate the conditions in the womb. In essence, we simulate the human birth.”

Falling silent here, he gestures to the screen. You watch as a different girl – different, but similar – floats in the uterine enclosure. The footage is sped up, giving the girl's occasional twitches a sense of frantic energy. As the oxygen levels drop, her movements grow more and more frequent. Then, as if passing some unknown point of no return, she bursts into sudden and explosive motion. Clawing at her face, she rips the useless mask free and flails at the water, desperately pulling herself up towards the surface. Before she makes it, Brahms pauses the footage.

“Did...” you swallow against a suddenly dry throat, “Did she make it?”

“She did,” Brahms answers, “Not all of them do.”

[1/2]

>>3845137

As Brahms checks over a sheet of bland statistics, you take a slow look around the office. There's hardly anything to look at, but you do notice a photograph pinned to the edge of the computer station. It shows a group of girls, all with that same “Juliet” look – some slight differences in their hair or their exact features, but the overall impression is one of eerie similarity. Up in the top corner, some joker has scratched down the words “Class of '21”.

“There was a theory,” Brahms explains, “Differences in phenotype, in external appearance, might influence the memories they developed. Inconclusive results, as it happens.”

“Of course,” you sigh, “How does this memory stuff work, anyway? They swim their way out of that tube – or they don't – and they just wake up with new memories?”

“It's not quite as simple as that. For the first few days, the girls are usually confused – it takes some time for their newly created minds and personalities to settle down. You must realise, their memories are scattered and disparate, taken from countless different lives. Some degree of conflict is inevitable at first,” the doctor makes a tiny gesture, brushing his fingers against one temple, “But the human mind is capable of incredible things. Their memories adapt, adjusting themselves to suit the greater image. Human beings are well suited to self-delusion.”

Self-delusion. Like seeing a girl who no longer exists in this world, or hearing your own thoughts spoken in her voice.

“Would you like to see them?” Brahms asks suddenly. You look around, the unexpected offer taking you by surprise, and then you realise that you're not alone here. Leaning against the office doorway, Adrian gives you a sardonic smile. You fumble, trying to keep a neutral expression, but the effort is doomed to failure. “What is it?” Brahms asks, turning to look at where you're staying. You wince, preparing for the worst, and then-

“Oh, Adrian,” the doctor remarks, “I didn't realise you were here.”

“I didn't want to intrude. It's nice to see you making a friend, Doctor Brahms,” Adrian replies, his smiling eyes flicking mockingly towards you, “Reynolds. I hope you're not causing any trouble.”

“No more than usual,” you spit, shooting Brahms a glare, “You know this guy?”

“I work here,” Adrian stresses, “Well, as much as I work in any one fixed location. Travelling around is the... oh, the second best part of the job. The best part, of course, is meeting new and interesting people.” Concluding this with a wink, Adrian slips away and vanishes down into the corridors beyond. You take an angry step after him, stopping yourself as you feel Brahms' eyes upon you.

You turn slowly, meeting his gaze. “I see,” he muses, “I didn't realise you knew each other.”

>Forget about him. Where were we?
>Adrian? Oh yeah, we go way back
>How can you work with HIM?
>It's complicated, but... (Write in)
>Other

>>3845142
>We've got some history yeah.
>Forget about him. Where were we? Yes I'd like to see them.

Other than the connections our Juliet has made I wonder what the differences are between her and the rest of these girls. They seemed to have been drowned just like our Juliet, but are they more docile like how our Juliet was before we reawakened her memories? Guess we'll find out. Also I'm not saying this IC. The status of our Juliet's 'individuality' should be a secret for now.

>>3845142
>How can you work with HIM?
He was heavily involved in what she did to us, and if we were to continue with our job eventually we are going to have to kill it.
So when are they going to tell us the truth about him and get us to kill him for them.

>>3845153
Dude Adrian being Amon is a secret. To most people, including Brahms, is Adrian is just a smug UN dude. Don't freak out at him here.

>>3845142
>>Adrian? Oh yeah, we go wayyyy back

>>3845142
>Is the water....seawater?
>How often do you work with HIM? I can't say most of our meetings with him have been pleasant.
>Is there anything that disrupts that memory adaptation? Would be kinda bad to have it revert or adjust into something new at the wrong time.

>>3845158
If i had to guess I would say the difference was that we went out of our way to provide Juliet a place to belong, and something to hold on to and fight for, which the newer series lack as they are treated like they are disposable and easily replaceable.

If he is on Bergmann's level he should know already, also they can't kill him unless they also decide to stick with Bergmann.

Should we ask about what they did to our Juliet while she was here after Nebrios.

“Never mind ME,” you hiss, jabbing a finger at the now vacant doorway, “How can you work with HIM?”

“Adrian?” Brahms replies, your reaction taking him by surprise, “He is, I would say, less objectionable than some of the men I've worked with before. He's arrogant, true, and he refuses to treat our work with the seriousness it deserves, but... actually, now that I think about it, he probably IS as objectionable as the rest of my colleagues. Perhaps I simply think fondly of him because he's not present nearly so much as anyone else. Absence, they say, makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Not in his case,” you growl, “We've got history, and not much of it is pleasant. You've read my file, haven't you? He was a part of it, and ever since then he's been...” Pausing here, you shake your head with a grimace. The last thing you want now is to have Adrian, Amon, ruining your day. “Forget about him. God, please let us forget about him,” you groan, “We were talking about the new girls, right? I would like to see them. Now?”

With a calculated lack of haste, Brahms takes out a pocket watch and checks it. “They'll be gathering for lunch soon. That, I think, would be the best time to meet them,” he puts his watch away, gestures for you to follow him out, “Meeting them in person might surprise you, actually. I suggest keeping an open mind.”

“Keep an open mind, right. Well, I'm always up for learning something new,” you remark, allowing yourself to be led away from the glowing computers, “These memories they have. Is there anything that disrupts them? I mean, it would be pretty bad news if they all lost their minds at a crucial moment, right?”

“There were flaws in the original models. Under extreme stress or pressure, they were prone to defects – lapses or dissonance in their memories, catatonic states, even violent outbursts. I'm told that the newest batch are far more stable, although I'm not quite convinced by that,” Brahms pauses at a large steel door, swiping his card through a lock and waiting as the heavy locks cycle, “BLUE EYE has been a pet project here for a very long time, and I've been criticising it for just as long. As you might have guessed, I'm not a very popular man around here.”

Nobody likes being told that they're full of shit, even if it's worded with immaculate politeness. Even so, Brahms' admission leaves you awkwardly silent. Did he mean it as a statement of fact, or a plea for sympathy? For a man who chooses each word with care, there's no such thing as an innocent statement. “Weird smell in here. Kinda salty, almost,” you think aloud, changing the subject, “It reminds me of the ocean. Do you guys use seawater here or what?”

“The fluid used in their enclosures does have some salt in it, yes, but it's not quite seawater,” the doctor replies, “It's meant to resemble amniotic fluid, although it's not a perfect match.”

[1/?]

>>3845197
Well, I suppose that's why Juliet is so fond of the ocean - it's the closest thing to her tank.

>>3845197

Lunch is served in a room not entirely unlike the mess hall back in Avalon, but on a far smaller scale. A single table sits in the middle of the room, with six girls seated around it. Brahms warned you to keep an open mind, but even so the scene that greets you is a surprising one. The girls are... laughing and chatting like normal girls would, complaining about the food and teasing each other. It's only as you linger back for a moment more that you notice the slight signs that something isn't quite natural here.

Their voices, for one thing. Beneath the facade of life and emotion, there's an unmistakable flatness to their voices. The lack of any discernable accent is one thing, but it's more than just that. You could spend all day trying to describe it, and you might never feel satisfied with the results. The pauses are another flaw in their act. They're brief enough, rarely lasting more than a second or two, but you notice them. One girl will be chatting happily away, only to freeze for a single moment as she tries to form the next word. Then, like a computer recovering from a minor crash, she lurches back into life and carries on talking. These pauses go unnoticed and unmentioned, an accepted part of normal conversation.

Brahms clears his throat loudly, and the conversation grinds to a sudden halt. Heads turn your way, and six pairs of eyes bore into you. Not all of them are blue, you notice, you see green and purple and eyes of murky black. As the artificial girls stare at you, one thought forces its way to the forefront of your mind.

You don't belong here.

>I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to need to pause this for about an hour or so. There's an unexpected family matter that I'll need to attend to. I'll get back to writing as soon as I can, though.

>>3845251
Well that's certainly different from our Juliet. After getting her memories back she seems to be able to carry on a conversation like any other human. Wouldn't it be ironic that the 'defects' they want to avoid are exactly what they needed in order to have a 'normal' human girl.

I have a feeling our Juliet is going to want to save her 'sisters'.

>>3845269
nah man, haven't you played your gatchas? We just need to fuse them all together to make an SSR+15 Juliet.

>>3845269
Then she won't need to come to Academy for that, we only need to head to Temple, we can destroy the facilities there We may end up needing to uproot the Tree of life to prevent them from restarting production somewhere else, witch would for them to either swap sources for the biomass or force them to conserve their stock of pilots Assuming that they are going to have the same problems with pilots Ageing out of the program they are going to need to ramp up production at some point and we may as well save Nate and recover the grip of Excalibur while we are there.

>>3845251
>Then, like a computer recovering from a minor crash, she lurches back into life and carries on talking.
Yeah man, I hate it too when there's packet loss in my connection to noosphere.

The question to ask our dearest doctor, while we're here, I think, is about how could somebody try to scale the effects of AT fields, what would they try to do. I think the main reason why 05 was pursued so vigorously is that the madman discovered basically an AT-nuke and was willing enough to go with it, but lacked the means to do so. The head office has the means, but may lack the know-how (as an assumption). If one were to negotiate with old men from a position of force, then securing whatever device/alien corpse would be a start. We just need some confirmation as to what it could be. Being reasonable people we could achieve MAD scenario thus deescalating the AT-arms race, which is what all the 'pet projects' are.

>>3845282
Truly we were the Girl's Frontline all along.

...
What you described is kinda like what happened with Circle Eleven when you think about it, only they weren't duplicates of Holly.

>>3845294
The thing you are looking for is the Grip of Excalibur, it's somewhere in Temple.

Thread#11 post >>3737186
reread from the linked post

File: BlueEye.png (1.18 MB, 1500x1000)

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“Hey,” the first of the girls announces suddenly, her eyes sharpening slightly, “A new girl? I wasn't informed about this.”

“Don't be such an ungracious host, Ava,” another of the girls scolds, her glasses glinting with a sinister light as she glares at her colleague, “At least let Doctor Brahms explain the situation.” Rising from her seat, the girl approaches you. She has darker skin than the others, her hair straight and black. “I'm April,” she adds, offering out a hand to you, “April Eins. You don't look like you're here to join us for good. Just visiting?”

“Holly is from the Avalon office,” Brahms explains, before naming the other girls in turn. Fiona looks feisty, her hair dyed red and worn in a choppy style. Evelyn, by contrast, has a graceful look about her... and the most obvious resemblance to the Juliet you know. Mia has a cool, relaxed smile, with an unspoken humour dancing behind her eyes. Emma wears her cheerful nature openly, flashing you a welcoming grin. Ava, finally, still has a suspicious look in her cold eyes. She's already marked you down as an enemy, or a rival, or... not one of the pack. Even after the others have turned away, returning to their meal, Ava keeps glaring around at you.

Not exactly a warm welcome.

“Excuse me,” the doctor adds, pulling a buzzing cellphone from his suit pocket, “I need to take this. April, can you show Holly to the dorm? The poor girl might want to sit down.”

“Yes sir. I'll give her the tour,” April confirms with a sharp nod, turning on her heel and sweeping away. You're left to scurry after her, feeling vaguely embarrassed about something you can't explain. “The Avalon office, huh?” the tanned girl muses, “I've heard it's bad there. You've been bearing the brunt of the combat. Ava wants to go out and fight, but apparently we're not ready for it. Ava's kind of our leader, as much as anyone is. Don't let her bother you.”

“I won't,” you reply, “Although I think I'M bothering HER just by being here.”

April laughs, but the hollow sound sends a shiver running down your spine. “She just doesn't like new people. It's not personal,” the girl explains, before nodding to a door ahead, “Here. The dorm.” Pushing the door open, she shows you inside. If the dining room bordered on lifelessness, the dorm is utterly dead. Six simple beds, three sets of double bunks, and a small table with three chairs placed around it. No decorations, no signs of human life at all. April starts inside, only to freeze.

“Uh...” you begin, tapping the girl on the shoulder.

Jolting back into life, April looks around at you. “The Avalon office, huh?” she muses, “I've heard it's bad there. You've been-”

“Bearing the brunt of the combat,” you finish for her, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, that,” April agrees, gesturing to the small kitchen hidden away in the back, “Coffee?”

[1/2]

>>3845364

“Thing I hate most about this place,” April murmurs, looking down into her cup, “Terrible coffee. I understand that we're on a budget, but a few bags of the good stuff isn't going to break the bank, is it?” Sighing, shaking her head, she finishes off the last of the gritty, bitter coffee in a mouthful. “Back home, I always had really good coffee. I had someone make it for me, that was basically their entire job – making coffee,” a faint smile surfaces on her face, an imitation of self-consciousness, “I'm not trying to boast, but my folks are pretty rich. Boring computer stuff, I never bothered to learn much more than that.”

A hard lump forms in your throat, the mention of her stolen memories causing you to hesitate. “Cool,” you manage, “Where did you grow up, then?”

“We had a penthouse in New Delhi. It's a weird place to grow up – you have all these tower blocks, with walkways and passageways connecting them up so you never need to go down to street level,” April winces slightly at the thought, “You really don't want to go down to street level. Not without a bodyguard, at least.”

She really believes this stuff, every word of it. As far as she's concerned, she really lived every moment of it. But then, you really believed Claire was alive and by your side for... way too long. You've both had a lot of practice at self-delusion.

“Anyway, most people here don't drink the coffee, but bad coffee is better than no coffee at all as far as I'm concerned,” April continues, “Evelyn doesn't like anything bitter. She's such a baby, she drinks milk instead. Can you believe that?”

Nodding faintly, you take a sip of your own coffee. Barely tasting it, you place the cup down and push it aside. Trying and failing to find something to say, you finally settle for giving April a shrug.

“You don't talk much, do you?” the tanned girl concludes, frowning at you, “Or... do I talk too much?”

“Oh, no, it's fine, I'm just...” you pause, “I never expected to meet all of you when I came here. I'm still catching up with... you know, with all this.”

“All this,” April repeats, looking down into the silty remains at the bottom of her coffee cup. Another blank look, another awkward silence. This one stretches out for longer, a lot longer.

>I need to go now. I've got loads to do today
>Mind showing me around the place? I'd like to meet the others
>Let's talk... (Write in)
>Other

>Sorry for the long delay. Things ended up taking longer than I expected

>>3845384
>Mind showing me around the place? I'd like to meet the others
>Other
"Let's get a group photo before I leave. Something to show the girls back home. It would do wonders for morale knowing you guys have our back."

>>3845384
>Let's talk... (Write in)
Ask about their simulated training and their AT abilities / specializations.

So I guess we just established that they don't know about their situation, Considering that they will be deployed against us should we displease Head Office. we should let them know if we ever end up facing off that we will accept surrender, in order to prevent unnecessary bloodshed as without their support any UN assault would collapse.

>>3845405
If that ever happens then we can say it over comms. Saying it now would make things really tense and awkward. Let's try to establish a small, friendly bond now to make future talks better.

>>3845410
I guess we can leverage Karina for that, assuming that she makes it that far.

>>3845384
>>Mind showing me around the place? I'd like to meet the others

>>3845384
>Mind showing me around the place? I'd like to meet the others

We gotta assert dominance on Ava

“Mind showing me around the place?” you ask eventually, hoping to prod the artificial girl into life, “You know, so I can get my footing. Get a feel for where we're at. I'd like to meet the others too. A quick “Hey there” over the dinner table isn't really... enough, is it?”

April snaps back into life. “I can do that,” she answers, “There isn't much to see here, though. We've got the training rooms, and a little garden, and... well, I'll show you.”

“You guys do simulated training too, right? What's your routine like?” you press, leaning forwards a little, “You got any... tricks? You know, AT stuff. Back in Avalon, we've got a pretty mixed bag of skills. I figured things might be the same here, but now I'm not so sure.”

“Ava would know more about that, but... she might not want to talk about it. Not with a stranger. Uh, no offence. So, ah, let me see,” April's eyes narrow as she thinks, “I'm pretty good with a rifle, which is strange since I've never even held a real gun. Mia's the same – actually, I think she might be even better than I am. I've watched some of her training footage, and she's hit flying targets that I wouldn't even try shooting at. It's like she can just... make her shots hit where she wants.”

“Fiona is more of a close up girl, both in training and out of it. I'd stay away from her if you're not comfortable with, you know, being hugged,” she continues, listing off her colleagues, “Evelyn is... I think she's going to have trouble in combat. She's pretty lame, actually. We're trained to fight as a unit, but she's a weak link. She's real smart though, which is why Ava keeps her around. I guess that's it, really. Ava can be pretty strict, but she's a good commander. When we're training and she's calling out the orders, I really feel like I can do anything.”

So April and Mia are ranged fighters, Fiona is a brawler, Evelyn is fucking useless, and Ava is their commander. “What about... Emma?” you ask, pretending that you didn't struggle to remember the girl's name, “You never mentioned her.”

“We don't mention Emma,” April mutters, lowering her voice, “One time, in training, she just lost her shit. It was like went crazy, started attacking everything in sight. The whole simulation had to be shut down, and I was aching for days afterwards. I mean, I had bruises all over me. It hasn't happened again, but...” She trails off here, all light and life leaving her face as she goes blank for another moment. Whether it's a flaw in her programming or an unpleasant memory, you couldn't say. Either way, your heart skips a beat. This all sounds painfully familiar to you.

Berserker.

[1/?]

>>3845445
>We're trained to fight as a unit,
They don't have a two ADM limit?

>>3845454
Not when it doesn't suit head office, they don't.

I guess that makes Juliet even more unique,They are apparently also trying to
directly counter the Avalon pilots as they have similar roes to our own. Also i guess that means that they can keep 'rerolling' the pilots for their abilities they get until they find one that works or is useful.

>>3845462
We could go off the rails this instant, at least in theory, by tanging the pilots. It's going to take a while to replace them, is it not?
Of course that would mean we'll still need to get across the Atlantic to get our cool robot and then back to the Temple to follow up on hostilities.

>>3845470
It would take a short period of time to regenerate their losses, though we would probably be better off using the knife to get them to witness the growth chambers. once we return to Avalon we will still need to breif Monroe and the Pilots in order to get their approval and assistance for the strike on temple. We should still have the knife in our back pocket, if we need it.

>>3845470
>>3845475
All of this is moot because it's incredibly ooc for Holly.

>>3845483
You don't think Holly would do anything to save Nate from her fate.

>>3845445

The “garden”, as April calls it, is less than impressive. A few rows of planters beneath lurid blue lights, with lush greenery stubbornly growing from the moist soil. Leaning down, you brush aside a few of the plants, you see a cluster of tiny green tomatoes growing there. “Fresh vegetables are one of nature's gifts,” Evelyn's soft voice announces suddenly, the girl leaning around from one of the other planters, “They're nutritious, and they taste delightful. I'm glad that I can grow them here.”

“Tomatoes aren't vegetables, though,” Mia butts in, “Duh.”

“Yes, well, the idea remains the same,” Evelyn sighs, looking around at you, “Holly, wasn't it? Do you do any gardening back in Avalon?”

“I don't, but I know a girl who does,” you answer, thinking of Claudia, “She grows flowers, though, not fruit and vegetables.”

“Still counts,” Mia drawls. She sits on a high stool at the far side of the room, watching you with a muted lack of curiosity. With her low, slightly husky voice and her half-lidded eyes, you'd think she was growing something illegal in here. Maybe it's just the hot, humid air putting her to sleep. “Good to see another American here, though,” she adds, “You ever been to Cali? If we ever get any leave, you should come back out west with me. Got this big house on the beach front, used to be a hotel apparently. My parents rent out the rooms to surfers sometimes, but there's always room for a guest. Most times, it's just me and my bro staying there.”

Evelyn smiles shyly, her cheeks darkening slightly. “You're going to have to introduce me to your brother one of these days,” she insists, “You make him sound so-”

“Evelyn has a crush!” April teases, poking the shy girl on the arm, “Isn't that cute?”

“It is NOT a crush!” Evelyn gasps, her entire face flushing red, “It's... it's...”

“Sounds like it's more than JUST a crush,” you add, grinning for a moment. Then, as a cold fist closes around your heart, you feel your smile fade. Even knowing who, what, these girls are, you believed that it was real for just a moment. “We're...” you continue, trying to salvage something, “We're meeting up with the others. You two coming with us?”

Hopping off her stool, Mia taps Evelyn on the shoulder and tilts her head to the side. As if some unheard conversation just took place, she nods. “Yeah, we're coming,” Mia tells you, “Oh yeah, one word of warning. Don't let April talk you into trying the coffee here. It is NOT safe for human consumption.”

It's a little late for that.

[2/3]

>>3845488
Not if it's by murdering girls, even clones like these. Not after befriending Juliet

>>3845483
You're right in that regard. It would sound like a suggestion from Amon if anything. But while we're on a subject of tanging, can Moloch explain the limits of it at least roughly? Because it sounds like Death Note - just know the guy you want to tang and you can find him in that global consciousness. Or even better - know the guy who's gonna be around. Sounds wildly OP.

>>3845498
It probably is OP, the only readily apparent requirement is that we have a sufficiently stronger AT Field (Therefore No pilots, Nate and Lilium. Also likely that the suits that Yulia was working on will protect from it as well.)
The downside is that we get exposed to the feelings, and memories during the process so we have to live with that after the fact.

In a small room just off the training area, you see one small hint of luxury. An old arcade cabinet, still in perfect working order. Emma blasts away at it, wrenching at the joystick as she guides a tiny pixelated spaceship around and shoots aliens. “Hey, space cadet,” Mia calls out, “We're having a team meeting. You coming?”

“Nah,” Emma replies shortly, “I'm close to a high score.”

“This is important,” Evelyn stresses, her unspoken anxiety showing through in the way she tugs at her choker.

“This is a high score,” Emma shoots back, “That's important too.”

April lets out a low scoff of laughter. “Ignore her,” she advises, speaking loudly enough that Emma can't block out the distraction, “She'll lose soon enough, she always dies when she gets to level... what, eleven?”

Emma lets out a loud huff of anger, digital explosions filling up the screen before her.

“Usually level eleven,” April adds, peering at the game over screen, “Or earlier.”

-

As April doubles back to find the others, you enter the training room and spot Ava sitting on a low bench, her face set in a determined snarl as she methodically lifts a dumbbell. Looking sharply up at the sound of your arrival, she sets the dumbbell aside and leaps to her feet. There's an erratic pace to her motions that you don't like, an undercurrent of anger with no outlet. You recognise THAT all too well.

Just for a moment, you wonder if Ava is going to swing for you. She's thinking of doing it too, her intent obvious in her tightly balled fists. Something, either pragmatic caution or some aspect of her conditioning, stops her from going that far. Instead, she meets your eyes with a scowl. “Why are you really here?” she hisses, “We don't need a new member of the team... or are you here to take command?”

“You'd better chill the fuck out, before I put you on your back,” you warn her mildly, “All that simulated training won't help you in the real world.”

Ava holds you gaze for a moment before letting out a clipped laugh. “Oh, so you're a tough guy, are you? Maybe I COULD use someone like you. I assume you've seen the rest of my team by now – not one soldier among them. April comes close, but she's still a pampered rich girl at heart. I don't know if I can rely on her,” she complains, “But enough about that. What do YOU make of them?”

“I'm told you operate as a team. All six of you?” you ask carefully, “Back in Avalon, we have limits on deploying ADM Units. Two at a time, barring exceptional circumstances.”

“Must be the old model. We're training on the newest generation of fighting machines,” Ava remarks, her lips curling in an unpleasant smile, “Feeling obsolete yet?”

>It's not a contest, Ava. We're all on the same side... right?
>Obsolete or not, I could still kick your ass all day long
>Why don't we start over? I'd like to know a little about you
>I'm not here to fight, I'm here to talk... (Write in)
>Other

>>3845498
>It's pretty OP, but it's also not really a "reliable" ability. There are a lot of unknown factors that play into it. For more details, consult your local experts in psychic war crimes!

>>3845521
>Obsolete or not, I could still kick your ass all day long
"Tell the bodies of all the Lilim we've killed how obsolete we are. With a nice 2 ADM limit handicap it seems."

If she wants to throw down and spar on the mat I am absolutely down.

>>3845521
>It's not a contest, Ava. We're all on the same side... right?
You don't know, they haven't told you yet. There are a lot of things they are hiding from you. you still think that they are machines right, well they aren't, they are alive the next time one of the Units takes damage, head down to the cages watch it get repaired.

as this is likely going to be they only time we will be able to talk before we are going to start moving against head office we need to set up an open dialogue for our next encounter so we can talk them down.

>>3845521
>Obsolete or not, I could still kick your ass all day long

"Three rounds, no eyes, throat or groin shots. You win, I get to listen to your shit AND I will get you some good coffee. But if you lose, I get to tell my obsolete gals back at Avalon that here they have girls that pretend being soldiers while having the luxury of sitting on their ass doing nothing. Your choice."

I don't know, sounds like a nice chance to get it out of her system while earning some respect.

>>3845521
>Obsolete or not, I could still kick your ass all day long

filthy clone

>>3845524
Not reliable? Does this mean we can't waltz back into HQ with Brahms and do the following scene:

Bergmann: Who's that?

Holly: Your replacement.

B: What?

H: You're fired.

B: You don't have that authority!

H: I fire you....from life.

and then we turn her to goo?

>>3845544
Bergmann likely has something going on that would prevent us from doing so, when we first used our ability we couldn't read anything about her, we manged to read both Fletcher and Monroe but not her, the only other person we couldn't read was Adrian.

It would probably be faster to just stab or shoot her.

>>3845521
There is something else I want to say to her while we are alone, but I don't know where to fit it. If we do throw hands maybe after that? After helping her up? Wherever it fits best Moloch.

>Other regarding her squad
"You may already know this, but from one leader to another: keep the girls safe. Soldiers or not, they are the only ones that will truly watch your back. The scientists and commanders here? Nice as they may be or not, they still have bosses. Bosses with agendas that might not always have you or your girl's well being at heart. So watch out for them. Us pilot's gotta stick together right?"

>>3845550
We just need MORE POWER.

>>3845569
for all we know she got some sort of boost somewhere along the line.

Or is one of the remaining Lilium, i mean it would explain why she is so good at what she does.

“Obsolete or not, I could still kick your ass all day long,” you reply, baring your teeth in a savage grin, “Want to take a turn on the mat and try your luck? Three rounds, with no biting, eye gouging, or cheap shots below the belt. If you win, I'll listen to your shit all day... and I'll buy you all some decent coffee. If I win, you'll-”

Ava doesn't give you the chance to finish that offer. She lunges, coming at you low and throwing a vicious jab into your ribs. The blow catches you before your guard is up, a stinging pain cutting through you. Even with the pain, you're ready to sway back from Ava's next blow, a rising uppercut that skims past your nose. Left off-guard by your dodge, the artificial girl is left open to your counter, and you don't waste the opportunity. Throwing your weight into it, you punch her right in the gut and fold her double in a single blow. With an almost contemptuous follow-up, you kick her legs out from under her and send her tumbling to the ground.

The fight is over already. You can see that, you KNOW that, but..

But you're not done yet.

Pushing her over onto her back, you drop down and straddle Ava. She thrashes weakly at you, one hand slapping against the side of your face and scrabbling for grip, but you bat it away. “No eye gouging,” you hiss, moving your hands up to her throat, “I told you, Ava. I WARNED you...”

>Ego increased by 5
>Current Ego: 64/70

“Commander?” someone calls out, and you jolt around to see April staring at you both. The others hasten to join her, and soon you find yourself pinned in place by five sets of staring eyes. “Commander,” April continues, “What's going on? Are you-”

“I'm fine,” Ava rasps, pushing you away from her, “I'm fine. Stand down, Eins.”

“But-” Evelyn whines.

“I'm FINE. Get out of here, all of you!” Ava snaps, her face twisted into a frightful mask, “That's an order!”

With that magic word, the girls tense up. One by one, moving with stiff motions, they retreat from the training room. As soon as they're gone, Ava lets her mask drop and groans in pain. Sitting down on the mat beside her, you draw in a shaky breath and try not to think about what might have happened if April hadn't arrived. More and more, you're starting to lose control over your own actions. Worse still, losing control feels so... good.

“The real thing wasn't what you expected it to be, was it?” you ask softly, “Truth is, I think I've had a lot more practice at this than you'll ever have, so if you're smart... I think you'll listen to what I have to say.”

Ava glares at you, her eyes narrowed into vicious slits, but she doesn't move to stop you from speaking. Having lost the fight, she's ready to take her punishment.

At least it's only a scolding. The Lilim would do far worse to her.

[1/?]

>>3845591
>More and more, you're starting to lose control over your own actions. Worse still, losing control feels so... good.

That instability keeps showing it's ugly head. I don't know if it's because her soul is scarred by 02 or she's always had that in her since Circle Eleven. We might end up accidentally killing someone someday. Not looking forward to that.

>>3845591
>cheap shots below the belt

but we're girls

>>3845598
It would likely still hurts though.

>>3845591

“It'll always feel strange to admit it, but I've kind of the leader back in Avalon. As one leader to another, I've got some advice for you,” you begin, “Keep those girls safe. It doesn't matter if they're not the soldiers you want them to be. When things get serious, they're the ones who'll watch your back. The scientists and doctors here, the military commanders, they might not always have your best interests at heart. They've got their own bosses, and those bosses have motives. More often than not, those motives aren't... good for girls like us.”

“So watch out for them, and trust your girls. Obsolete or not, pilots like us should trust one another,” you conclude, “What do you say?”

Ava grits her teeth. “If you win?” she asks, “You were saying something before. If you win, then what?”

“If I win, I'll...” you pause, sighing and shrugging, “I'll gloat about it for fucking days. Happy?”

Ava lets out a low snarl, and you realise that she's laughing.

-

There's an awkward air hanging over you when the other members of Ava's team arrive... although you're the only one who seems to notice it. The other girls behave like nothing ever happened, and maybe it really seems that way to them. “I, uh...” you swallow nervously, “I wanted to get a group photo of us all. You know, so I have something to bring back home with me!”

“Hey, that sounds fun!” Fiona cries, scurrying around and grabbing at you, “Bunch in, everyone, bunch in!”

“H-hey!” Evelyn yelps, “Where are you touching-”

Deliberately ignoring the yelps and cries, you take out your phone and snap a few quick pictures. Most of them turn out okay, although one badly aimed snap does chop April's head off. Unfortunate, but you've got others. As you're taking another look over the pictures, Doctor Brahms appears in the entrance and clears his throat. Immediately, the girls snap to attention. “Miss Reynolds, you're required back at the facility entrance,” the doctor begins, “Say your goodbyes, then meet me outside. I'll take you back to the main elevator.”

There are a few moans of disappointment – things must be boring here, if the girls are saddened to be losing their “guest” so soon – but Ava sweeps her colleagues away with a gesture. They slink off in the direction of the dining room, leaving you alone with the artificial commander once more. “Looks like I gotta go soon. I got one question before I leave, though. Humour me, will you?” you mutter, and Ava gestures for you to speak, “Have you ever actually been in a real fight?”

“There was one... although I'm not sure if you'd call it a fight,” Ava begins, “I was at school, eating in the cafeteria, and I heard some girls laughing at me. I smashed one across the head with-”

“With your dinner tray,” you finish, the words tasting like ash, “Yeah. I did that too.”

“Great minds think alike,” she muses.

[2/3]

[Worry]

Oh Dr. Brahm. You got some explaining to do about those last lines.

>>3845611

Before we go we should ask how old they are.
Now this just makes me wonder how they got our memories.

>>3845611

For a moment, you and Ava stare into each others' eyes. There's a strange mix of emotions painted across her face – burning anger, grudging respect, and even a kind of envy. Envy... a strange thing to see there, but you think you can understand. She might not know it, but Ava was born to fight. Sealed away down here, with only sparring and simulated training to whet her appetite, must be grating. Maybe it's your shared memory, but you feel a sudden rush of sympathy for her – and, by extension, for all of her team.

“Look, there's something I need to say. It's going to suck, and you might not want to hear it, but I need to get it out there,” you begin, speaking hastily, “There might come a time when we might meet in the field. You might have orders to... to fight my guys. To kill us, even. We'd fight back, you know. We'd have to. But if that ever happens, why don't we agree to just... not? All we have to do is say no, to refuse to fight each other. That's all it would take. What do you say?”

You hold out your hand, and Ava slowly looks down at it. “I can't agree to that,” she murmurs, “You know I can't agree to that.”

“I was afraid you'd say that,” you sigh, “Would it help if I gave you an order?”

Ava's lips twist into a humourless smile. “I think you should go,” she suggests, “Before they send someone down here to fetch you.”

Well... at least you tried. Nobody could ever say that you didn't try.

>Fine, I'm going. Just think about what I said
>I'm not done here yet... (Write in)
>Other

>>3845622
>Fine, I'm going. Just think about what I said.
I just hope you figure out, what it is exactly you are fighting for before then.

>>3845622
>Other
'There might be a time when someone tells you or treats you like you're not real. But you're real. You proved it to me. Remember this conversation and this is an order'.

>>3845611
Cool, so they all have at least partial memories of Avalon's girls. Ava has Holly's, Fiona has Nate's, April has Claudia's (or just NERV has penchant for stealing memories of rich girls), I'm a bit at a loss who's who after that. I think Julia ended up with Kaori's memories. Mia sounds like Reed or maybe I'm imagining things here.

>>3845622
>I'm not done here yet... (Write in)
Give her our number.

"If you ever want someone to yell and scream at. I know I do sometimes. Take care Ava. Work on that uppercut."

>>3845622

>Fine, I'm going. Just think about what I said

The more we push the more she'll resist

>>3845631
I don't think that they are all complete copies, they probably have some of the details swapped around between them and minor one changed in order to blend into the background when things get brought up by legacy staff.

“Fine. I'm going,” you concede, giving her a shrug, “There's just one thing.”

“One more thing?” Ava remarks, “First there was one last question, then there was your little truce, and-”

“Look, are you going to shut up a minute and let me speak?” you snap, “Fucking hell, you're really making me regret not hitting you a bit harder.” Drawing in a steady breath to calm yourself, you take out your phone. “I'll give you my number, if you ever need to talk with someone on the outside,” you tell her, idly wondering if she's even allowed access to a phone, “In here, there might be a time when someone tells you... that you're not real, that you don't count. I'm telling you, here and now, that's bullshit. You're as real as I am, and you proved that to me today. Remember that, will you? I'm ordering you to remember that.”

Ava manages to smile at this. “I'll keep that in mind,” she assures you, “And when you're comfortably retired, I'll be ready to take your place.”

“Yeah, maybe after another ten years of training. That uppercut of yours needs work,” you snort, “See you around, Ava.”

“Not if I see you first,” she retorts, meeting your eyes with a grin.

>So I think I'm going to pause things here for today. I'll be aiming to continue this tomorrow, at the usual sort of time. Thank you for your patience today, and I apologise for the unplanned interruption!
>Bonus question – which BLUE EYE is the cutest?

>>3845671
Thanks for the run.
Juliet

>>3845671
Thanks for running!

Fiona

>>3845671
Thanks for running!

>which BLUE EYE is the cutest?
Yes.

>>3845671
Thanks for running

Are they aware that their last names are 1-6 in German? I feel that would cause some red flags.

Mia

>>3845671
Thanks for the run!

>which BLUE EYE is the cutest?
Dangerous berserkers are the best, so Emma.

>>3845697
They are aware, but so far as they know, they're super secret code names. Of course, they're not really inclined to question things too much - it's just the way they're wired!

>>3845733
To keep that analogy going, were we able to break Juliet's wiring? Or is that information we don't have access to?

>>3845671
>which is the cutest
That's a low bar

Ava looks like a mix of Claudia and Holly, which is not cute at all. Fiona looks the cutest, but she got the least screentime. I get the feeling that Emma will take the spot once we find out what the deal with the berserker thing is

>>3846111
Wanna bet that Ava's memory is, in fact, ours? This looks suspiciously like they used Holly as the donor.

>>3846798
It's almost certainly Holly's. But her "superior caste" way of thinking smells more like Claudia.

File: IngridB.png (369 KB, 900x700)

369 KB PNG

Compared with the austere dormitory that the BLUE EYE team has been provided with, your hotel room seems almost disgustingly luxurious. On the other hand, you've got a soft bed to sprawl out on, so you're not going to complain about the inequalities of life. Anyway, you're supposed to be resting up before heading out again – heading out to meet with Leighton at his office. You're supposed to be resting up, so a comfy hotel room is essential. You might even say that the future of mankind is reliant on getting a comfy hotel room.

You COULD say that, but it would probably be bullshit. You're going to say it anyway.

A knock at the adjoining door causes you to sit up, scurrying over to ease it open a crack. Fletcher's haggard features peer back at you, and you open the door wider to see that he's got his phone cradled against one shoulder. “It's for you,” he says simply, his voice low, “Be polite.”

“As if I'm ever NOT polite,” you mutter back, accepting the phone and closing the door behind you. Flopping back down onto your bed, you hold it to your ear. “Hello?” you ask, “You're through to Holly Reynolds, world renowned expert in suffering and misery, how can I help you?”

“You're in high spirits today, I see,” Ingrid fucking Bergmann answers, “When are you due back? I have a new research project that I'd like your assistance with. I think you'd benefit from-”

“Nope, no way, not now and not EVER,” you interrupt, “I really, really don't think that's a good idea – for either of us.”

“Really?” Bergmann replies, sounding genuinely curious, “And why would that be?”

“Because I've been to Temple!” you snap, sitting bolt upright in bed, “Because I know exactly what you've fucking DONE to Nate!”

There is a short silence from the other end of the phone. In some impossible sense of the word, the silence seems to carry an air of amusement. “I rather suspect that you DON'T know that, although I'm sure you've come up with a great many theories,” Bergmann replies, a note of reproach in her voice, “I'm sure it wasn't... comfortable to see Natasha like that, but you must set aside your personal feelings for her and-”

“What. Are. You. Doing. To. Her?” you snarl, spitting out each word.

“I'm doing what nobody else is even trying to do,” the doctor answers, her voice turning cold, “I'm winning this war – by any means necessary.”

Saying nothing, you feel your grip tighten around the phone until the casing grinds together. “Don't call me again,” you mutter eventually, “I think it's best if we... stay away from each other for a while. At least. It's better for both of us this way.”

“Holly,” Bergmann murmurs, “I'm disappointed in you. I thought you, of all people, would understand what-”

With a violent stab of your finger, you end the call.

[1/2]