avoiceinthestatic

[avoiceinthestatic]

Dead Space, but with trolls and not in space

This was a (very late) birthday gift for @donutheart , who is fantastic

The desolate, gray sands of the boneyard glistened with emerald fire. The air was thick with the smell of burning flesh. The night was pierced by by mad laughter, underscored by the crackling of flames and the moans of the undead.

"This is fun¡¡" Ellsee said. "Why havΣn't you ΣvΣr donΣ this with mΣ bΣforΣ¿¿"

Occeus stood from the corpse he had been rummaging around in, gloved hands dripping with viscera.

"Because," he said, "Eye generally d.o.n't invite my matesprit t.o. events that have a significant chance .o.f leaving her disemb.o.weled."

Ellsee's staff shot out a lance of green flame at an approaching revenant. The creature's torso burst violently, leaving a smoking pair of legs behind.

"It's nicΣ that you carΣ," she said, "but ΣvΣn if I do gΣt hurt, I happΣn to know a vΣry good - and vΣry attractivΣ - doctor."

".O.h?" Occeus turned to face her. "Y.o.u'll have t.o. intr.o.duce me," he deadpanned.

"You'Σ no fun," Ellsee pouted. After a moment, her face brightened and she asked, "So why arΣ wΣ hΣrΣ, again¿¿"

"We are here," Occeus said, "because Eye require an adult specimen .o.f the necr.o.vitalizing parasite f.o.r my experiments, and the best way t.o. acquire .o.ne is by rem.o.ving it fr.o.m a revenant."

Ellsee looked back at the trail of singed corpse parts she had been leaving in her wake.

"Oh," she said, sheepishly, "so I should probably stop Σxploding thΣm¿¿"

"That w.o.uld help, yes."

"Sorry," Ellsee said.

"Think n.o.thing .o.f it," Occeus raised the parasite he had removed from the revenant. "Eye have reas.o.n t.o. believe that these were all juveniles. The adults are m.o.st likely in their dens." He thought for a moment. "Besides, y.o.u l.oo.ked like y.o.u were having fun."

A tremor interrupted Ellsee before she could formulate a response.

"Eye was w.o.ndering when he w.o.uld sh.o.w up," Occeus said to himself

"What was that¿¿" Ellsee asked. "OccΣus¿¿ OccΣ-AH¡¡"

The ground under Ellsee's feet collapsed, swallowing her like a snake swallows a mouse.

Occeus ran over to the edge of the pit and peered down.

"Ellsee," he cried, "Are y.o.u alright?"

"I'm finΣ," she called back. "ThΣ sand cushionΣd my fall. I'm in somΣ sort of tunnΣl."

"H.o.ld .o.n. Eye'll be right d.o.wn."

"How arΣ you going to-" Ellsee's question was answered by the WHUMPF of a body hitting the ground.

".O.w," Occeus said.

"What is this placΣ¿¿" Ellsee asked.

They had been wandering the caverns for the better part of an hour, and stunned silence had finally given way to questioning.

"These appear t.o. be .o.ld .o.uw.o.rm tunnels," Occeus said. He put a hand to the wall of the cave and felt its glassy surface. "S.o.mething has been modifying it, th.o.ugh. These walls have been reinf.o.rced."

They continued onward in silence for a few more minutes, the only light coming from the head of Ellsee's staff. Eventually, they stumbled upon a central chamber.

The first thing Occeus noticed was its size. The tunnels they had been traversing had been spacious enough for the two of them, but the chamber could currently house a hundred times that many trolls.

The first thing Ellsee noticed is that the room was filled with corpses. They covered the floor, chunks of flesh missing and in various different states of decay.

"Um, OccΣus¿¿" Ellsee stuttered, "What is this¿¿"

Occeus looked at the patch of corpses illuminated by Ellsee's staff.

"Hmm," Occeus walked deeper into the chamber and began dissecting a corpse. The low hum of his surgical laser filled the chamber.

"What doΣs hmm mΣan?¿¿"

Something shifted on the opposite side of the chamber. Ellsee swung her staff around, the twin beams from its eyes cutting through the gloom. She looked at Occeus, who was still giving all his attention to the corpse he was cutting up.

"Did you hΣar that¿¿" she asked.

Occeus didn't look up.

"See what?"

"SomΣthing movΣd¡¡"

Occeus turned to face her.

"It was pr.o.bably just a revenant. Blast it if y.o.u see it again." Occeus's focus returned to the corpse. "Intriguing. This c.o.rpse has n.o. parasite, just s.o.me s.o.rt .o.f filament in the cranial cavity. Eye'm attempting t.o. rem.o.ve a sample n.o.w." He lowered his laser and began cutting.

The instant the laser met flesh, every corpse in the room began shrieking.

"What  thΣ FUCK¿¿" Ellsee screamed, trying to be heared over the din. As she spoke, the sea of flesh began to writhe and transform.

Flesh twisted and knit itself anew, sinew and muscle melting and reforming into a horrific new form. The overall result was something that looked like a tripodal cooked turkey, if said cooked turkey was lined with faces and had teeth made out of ribs where poultry would have the remains of a neck. The creature stood still for a moment, as if appraising the situation. Then a green bolt of fire hit it, and it scuttled into action.

"What is that¿¿" Ellsee cried.

"Eye think it's an adult," was Occeus's reply.

The monster rushed forward, and a massive spear of bone burst from its side as it ran. Its ensuing slash barely missed Occeus, the air whistling as it rushed past.

Another fireball slammed into its side.

"HΣy assholΣ¡¡" Ellsee taunted, "OvΣr hΣrΣ!"

"D.o.n't damage the subject!" Occeus cried.

"It's trying to kill you¡¡"

"That's a rather c.o.mm.o.n .o.ccurence in my research!"

Whatever retort Ellsee was planning was interrupted when something burst out of the monster's side and grabbed her. It was hard to tell, but at one point it may have been a ribcage. The creature brought her close, and another spike of bone jutted out in her direction. Before it could pierce her, however, there was a loud humming and the distinctive smell of ozone.

Occeus switched off his laser and looked at the stump where the bone spike had been. He had been expecting a bit more resistance, but he supposed that the creature's decomposing form hadn't done its constitution any favors.

The creature let out a piercing wail and tightened its grip on Ellsee. Her body let out a few alarming snapping sounds and she fell limp inside her skeletal prison.

The sight of his injured matesprit filled Occeus with something he hadn't felt in a long time: Pure, unbridled rage. Fuck getting a live test subject. Fuck getting the intact corpse of a dead one. These desires had been replaced with the need to see this monster suffer, and to see it die. Occeus put his fingers to his lips, and whistled.

The sound was loud in the enclosed space of the chamber, and it took several seconds for the echoes to fully fade. The only other sound was the rapid pounding of Occeus's heart in his head. The creature turned to face him, confusion evident even with its lack of facial features.

The pounding in Occeus's head got louder and louder, except it wasn't in his head at all, and it was more of a rumbling, really.

Occeus's lusus burst into the chamber. Its mouth was smeared with the remnants of corpses, but as always, it was still hungry. It instantly focused on the largest source of food in the chamber: The Monster. Before the creature could react, the ouworm launched itself through its torso, and burst out the other side with a mouthful of meat. Occeus saw the briefest glimpse of a spider-like creature in its maw before it swallowed.

Robbed of its pilot, the monster collapsed. The claw holding Ellsee opened, and she rolled limply on to the ground. She stirred as Occeus made his way over to her.

"Are y.o.u alright?" He asked.

Ellsee winced. "Could bΣ bΣttΣr." She coughed. "FUCK¡¡ I think I brokΣ somΣ ribs."

"Y.o.'ll be alright," Occeus said as he gently helped her to her feet. "Eye happen t.o. kn.o.w a very g.oo.d d.o.ct.o.r."

[avoiceinthestatic]

It’s steamed hams, but with Calder and Occeus

[avoiceinthestatic]

Zehanpuryu’s first conversation with Arcjec

[avoiceinthestatic]

Intermission One, with “music” by yours truly

[avoiceinthestatic]

Calder Writes a Porno

“...He pushed the female on to the couch, and her curves jiggles upon impact with the soft cushions. Her gray skin glistened with perspiration; The overall effect was rather like a glazed ham. He leaned over her body and undid the button on his trousers. She let out a gasp as she saw his bulge; over a foot of pulsating violet…”

 Occeus tabbed out of the window and took a long, slow, breath. This was certainly not how he had expected a conversation with his ex-moiral to go. He turned back to his computer and clicked on the skorpe window. GS: Well? What do you think? GS: Occeus? ME: Meye ap.o.l.o.gies. Give me a few m.o.re minutes? It is a rather l.o.ng w.o.rk. GS: Of course. Take your time.

  Occeus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. He steeled himself and re-opened the text file Calder had sent him, the one that had broken sweeps of silence between them.

Unfortunately, writing did not appear to be Calder’s strong suit, especially writing on a topic Occeus suspected he had very little experience in. He had given up on his first attempt at reading it around the phrase “Dark, moist, cavern,” and was on his third attempt now.

It took some time, but he managed to power through it.

 ME: Well, Eye’m finished. GS: Took you long enough. So what did you think?

ME:Well, first .o.f all, from the way y.o.u descreyebe the female, her pr.o.p.o.rti.o.ns are c.o.mpletely unfeasible. Her waist w.o.uld be t.oo. small t.o. h.o.ld any .o.rgans.

GS:I see. I was more hoping you could tell me your thoughts on the prose? ME: Similarly, her chest as y.o.u descreyebe it is far t.oo. large f.o.r her t.o. have a functi.o.ning speyene. .O.ver tweyece the seyeze .o.f the cranium is far, far, t.oo. big t.o. be believable.

GS: Occeus? Are you listening? UK: >([#oly s#it] UK: >([im not sure w#ats worse your story or t#e fact t#at you went to blue balls #ere to critique it]

UK: >([ ive read #is medical journals and t#eyre colder t#an gimp legs nutrition mounds]

GS: Murrit? How did you- this is a private conversation! UK: >([ dont flatter yourself i spy on everyones conversations]

UK >([ t#is was just an opportunity to intrude i couldnt resist]

ME: The bulge .o.f the male is far t.oo. large as well. He’d pass .o.ut from lack .o.f adequate bl.oo.d fl.o.w l.o.ng bef.o.re any sexual activity c.o.uld take place.

UK: >([ see w#at i mean]

UK: > ([ you s#ould #ave just come to me instead]

UK: >([ you know t#e s#it im in to t#is wouldve been rig#t up my ally]

GS: I went to Occeus because I trust him to give me his opinion without any juvenile antics, unlike you.

UK: >([ look w#ere t#at got you] ME: The p.o.siti.on y.o.u descreyebe in the first sex scene requeyeres the rem.o.val of tw.o. ribs and feyeve vertebrae t.o. be put int.o. practice.

UK: >([ see]

GS: Alright, fine.

GS: What fantastic advice are you so desperate to give me?

UK: >([well first of all] UK: >([name your c#aracters]

UK: >([cant believe i #ave to tell you t#at]

UK: >([people dont wanna read about t#e sexcapades of nameless ass#holes]

UK: >([t#ey want named ass#oles]

UK: >([even if its jimmy t#underbulge fucking tina sexdoll thinksludge out it #elps to #ave names]

GS:…

GS: I hate the fact that you’re most likely correct.

UK: >([most likely my ass]

UK: >([im rig#t]

ME: M.o.re of a meyenor nitpick, but the .o.dds .o.f tw.o. individuals with that specific fetish in a place as rand.o.m .o.f a bar is far t.oo. l.o.w t.o. be believable. It c.o.mes .o.ff as rather c.o.ntrived.

UK: >([#es not paying attention to t#is conversation is #e]

GS: Not at all. GS: He used to get hyperfocused on things all the time. It’s almost reassuring to see that that hasn’t changed. UK: >([you talk like i give a fuck] UK: >([anyway second tip]

UK: >([write dialogue] UK: >([seriously #ave you ever read a story in your entire life] UK: >([in between online diatribes and masturbation sessions i mean]

GS: Do you really wonder why I don’t talk to you? UK: >([people arent gonna give a s#it about tommy wonderfuck and lisa slurrydumpster unless you give em a personality] UK: >([t#is is storytelling 101 #ere #onestly]

GS: People don’t care about character in this type of story, I assure you. UK: >([stop wit# t#at vague bulls#it like i dont already know all your porn #abits]

GS: This conversation is over.

UK: >([fine fine i getc#a]

UK: >([dont want doctor parnassus to know exactly w#at you jerk off to]

UK: >([it is some nasty s#it]

UK: >([ciao]

 --unclaspedKahuna [UK] gave up trolling grandioseSaturation [GS]--

 ME: And feyenally, there are t.oo. many sex scenes in such a small am.o.unt of teyeme. N.o.b.o.dy has that much stamina. It’s unrealistic.

GS: But what did you think of the actual story? The prose and such? GS: Occeus? GS: Occeus are you still there? ME: .O.h, s.o.rry. ME: The actual story? ME: Eye th.o.ught it was pretty bad. ME: It’s n.o.t meye area .o.f expertise to critique writing. Maybe treye Murrit? This seems leyeke it w.o.uld be reyeght up his ally.

--grandioseSaturation [GS] gave up trolling macabreExude [ME]-- ME: Calder?

[avoiceinthestatic]

The Collector

The Collector stood at the top of a hill and looked down upon the hive of the person he was going to kill. He took note of the building’s architecture, the high stone walls, the windows looking out over the empty plains surrounding it, the smoke rising from the chimney. He though about the type of person who would live in such a place. He thought about his home, the dusty hole in the ground that it was. He thought about the series of poor choices that had brought him here.

”>([w#at t#e fuck are you waiting for an open invitation? Go get em miss jones],” a distorted, mechanical voice tore The Collector from his thoughts.

  The Collector’s bandanna rustled as he turned towards the speaker, a floating orb about the size of his head. A single red lens peered out from beneath its black carapace.

“Miss Jones?///” he asked.

“>([a joke. you do know what t#ose are rig#t]” the orb replied.

“/\m/\zingly, yes, I do. Now why /\m I here, /\g/\in? Whose hi\/e is this?”

“>([nobody special. just anot#er c#eapskate w#o t#oug#t stiffing me was a good idea].” The orb deployed a single mechanical arm from beneath its body, and made a move as if it was checking a watch. “>([now are we done sitting #ere wasting my time or do i #ave to remind you w#ose soul i own?]” it asked.

“Shut up,///” The collector said. He drew his knife and began the slow trek down the hill and towards his target

   The door was large, wooden and vulnerable to boots. The Collector stepped into the entry hall and immediately took a dagger to the chest. The Collector stumbled back, and stared down at the vibrating handle protruding from his sternum.

”>([watc# out for traps. t#eyre probably all over t#is place],” the orb said as it floated in behind him.

“Thanks,///” The Collector said as he removed the offending blade from his chest. He studied the knife in the light from the doorway, appraising it. Nodding gently, he wiped his ochre blood off of the blade and slid it into his belt. Already he could feel the wound in his chest beginning to close, the flesh knitting itself shut.

  “>([no problem],” the orb replied, either unaware of or deliberately ignoring The Collector’s sarcasm. Knowing who operated the drone, it could be either, or some bizarre combination of the two.

 The Collector studied the hallway he was in. Paintings lined the walls, presumably valuable.The carpet, now stained with The Collector’s bronze blood, also appeared to be worth a considerable sum. Busts on pedestals stood at various points. As The Collector moved to inspect one, a dagger flew out of its mouth and buried itself into one of the portraits on the opposite wall. The Collector felt a strange sense of annoyance at the fact that his target didn’t even bother to stab him in person.

 “Hey,///” he asked. “How much is /\ll this stuff worth?//”

 The drone attempted to shrug, the effect dampened by its single appendage. “>([a lot. i dont #ave an exact fucking number].”

 “/\nd they couldn’t p/\y you wh/\tever they owed you?//” The Collector gestured to the hallway. “Despite owning /\ll of this shit?”

 “>([couldnt wouldnt w#atever. just know t#at s#e didnt],” the drone moved as it talked, floating haphazardly through the halls of the manor. The Collector did his best to follow it. It stopped in front of a door grander and more ornate than any of the others they had passed. “>([anyway s#es rig#t be#ind t#is door. go get em killer]”

  The Collector steeled himself, readied his his foot, realized that if he kept kicking doors down he would ruin his shoes very quickly, decided he didn’t care, and kicked the door down.

  The room The Collector entered was, unlike the hallways he had gone through to get there, sparsely decorated. It appeared to be his target’s sleeping quarters. A single large recuperacoon stood off to the side. The only other object of any interest was a single portrait hanging on the wall opposite the door. The Collector stepped in to the room, and appraised it from the middle. No sign of his target. He moved to investigate the portrait. He took note of the gray skin and horns. This was definitely a troll. Gray skin, black hair, horns. Yet, something about the picture struck The Collector as odd. If only he could figure out what it was…

  Something heavy landed on The Collector’s back. Something angry, something with a sharp implement to take that anger out on The Collector. Whatever it was managed to get a few good stabs in before The Collector could manage to throw it off. He drew his knife and turned around to looked at his assailant.

  The first thing he noticed is how much she looked like the troll in the portrait. It stood to reason, he thought, that she was the troll in the portrait. The Collector was not accustomed to wealth, but the drone operator was, and in a moment of almost-friendliness, had revealed that one of his contemporaries had, in his words, “>([commissioned a s#it ton of portraits of #is ugly underbitten mug that no one in t#eir rig#t mind would wanna look at].”

The Collector assumed that owning portraits of themselves was something that the rich simply did, and just moved on. The object she had stabbed him with looked to him like some sort of rapier, only smaller. An ice pick, maybe? Whatever it was, it didn’t look very well suited for combat. He raised his knife and charged into the fray.

  The target fought with the ferocity and desperation of someone fighting for their life. The Collector fought with years of practice and an astonishing ability to not die, no matter how many times he was stabbed.

  The orb watched impassively. It might have been his imagination, but The Collector thought that he might have heard the crunching of popcorn once or twice.

  Eventually, The Collector stood victorious.

 “Th/\nks for the help.///” ”>([s#it man you had t#at on lockdown. didnt want to get in t#e way.]”

 “Wh/\te\/er.///” The Collector brushed himself off and removed his knife from the target’s body. He wiped the blade against his sleeve to clean off the blood, and sheathed it back into his bel- wait. The Collector looked at the stain on his sleeve, trying to discern just what was off about it. He felt the same sense of wrongness as when he was staring at the portrait. He looked down at the corpse, at the blood that was pooling out of it.

 Jade blood.

 “You B/\ST/\RD,///” he snarled at the drone, drawing his blade once more, “You h/\d me kill a j/\de!”

  The drone attempted another one-armed shrug.

“>([s#it man i sure did. i t#oug#t you didnt care about t#at #emospectrum stuff.]”

 “It’s not /\ hemospectrum thing! Do you know how m/\ny j/\des there /\re th/\t /\re still /\li\/e?”

 “>([as of five minutes ago t#ree #undred. guess its two-ninety-nine now.]

 “I /\m going to murder you. I /\m going to tr/\ck you down /\nd slit your throat like the fish you /\re.”

 The drone operator let out a low chuckle. “>([look who finally grew a pair. but before you go on doing t#at just reminds me who still owns your soul?]”

 The Collector offered only a growl in response.

 “>([ yea# daniel webster thats w#at i fucking t#oug#t. but i admit t#at maybe t#is was somet#ing i s#oulda disclosed before you went and killed #er. from now on ill tell you w#o it is youre gonna kill ok? great. i got one more target for you today. s#es a mustardblood so dont get all #ig# and mig#ty bout killing #er. we all good? great.]”

 Knowing that there was nothing he could really do, The Collector sheathed his blade and began the slow trek out of the hive of his victim, and towards the hive of his next.

 The drone followed, watching, as always.

[avoiceinthestatic]

Lead Case

She walked into the room like a knife enters a body: Swift, cold, and with a high chance of bloodshed. My eyes traveled up her body, from the smooth black carapace of her legs, to the sensible black of her suit, to the cold black of her eyes. "You're Turkin?" She asked. ">([t#ats w#at it says on my door]" I knew who she was. She was known as the Bishop, although she was actually a pawn. The Dealer had pointed her out to me a few weeks back. When I asked him about her name, his response was simple. When she enters a room, everyone starts praying. I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up on my desk. If the soles of my shoes impressed her, she didn't show it. ">([so w#at can i do for you?]" She gave a quick glance over her shoulder before answering, "You're in the detective business now, right? I've got a job for you."   A recent stakeout against a rival gang has taught me that I was pretty good at watching people, and I had decided to share my newfound talent with the masses. For a price, of course. I raised an eyebrow. >([w#at sort of job?]" "A friend of mine has gone missing. I need you to find him." ">([someone goes missing in t#is place?]" I let out a low chuckle. ">([ maam im sorry but odds are your friend is deader than a rook in a minefield. but dont worry i #ave a friend on prospit w#os a miracle worker w#en it comes to taxidermy. #e can get your friend stit#ed up wit#in a week and give you a wonderful keepsake to remember your friend by]" Bishop stared at me and I felt the temperature drop. Without a word, she turned around and began walking out of my office. ">([alrig#t alrig#t]" I said, ">([does your friend have a name?]" "Rook," she spoke without turning. "Meet me at the Deep Blue. We'll talk more there." With that, she left. The Deep Blue was one of the most popular bars on the moon. There was always a crowd there, if not for the drinks then for the gambling. It was also one of the only bars on the moon the Dead Shufflers didn't own. I hated the place. Bishop was easy to find. The bar was packed with Dersites (and the occasional Prospitian) drowning their sorrows, except for a small area around a single carapacian. ">([t#e party seems to hate you]" I said, sidling up next to her. "The party is smart." ">([unlike me?]" "I'm starting to have my doubts." She signaled the bartender, "two checkmates." Specialty cocktails. I can't stand them. I steeled myself, took a sip from my drink and said ">([so tell me about rook]" "Rook's a friend. A business partner," Bishop said. "I've known him for years. It's not like him to just disappear like this." ">([business partner?]" I asked. Bishop shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I briefly saw the outline of a sawed-off shotgun beneath her suit. "It's a territory thing. Rook and I wanted our own section of town to control."  A gang, in nicer words. In any other place it would be illegal, but Derse's laws focused on regulating what could actually be regulated. ">([i see. can you describe #is p#ysical appearance? #ard to find someone ive never seen]" I took another sip of my drink. "Well, he's big. Really big. That's where the name comes from, he's almost the size of a rook." Big. Wasn't much to go off of, but it was something. When I thought about it, that description sounded vaguely familiar. Had I seen Rook before? ">([do you #ave #is code?] I asked. Bishop nodded and pulled out a photograph. I pocketed it. Bishop downed the rest of her drink and stood. I followed her to one of the card tables. "Do you play, Mr. Turkin? I need something to take my mind off of all this," She said.  ">([ive been known to dabble]" "Excellent. I'll deal.” We sat, and she dealt. I looked at my hand. A royal flush. Bishop looked at me.    "Got any jacks?" I smiled like a pirhana. ">([go fis#]" When I left the bar(several boonbucks richer thanks to Bishop's subpar cheating skills), I decided to do what every great leader has done when faced with a challenge: delegate. I called up the Deadpan dealer and asked him if he knew anyone named Rook. He told me that he knew several rooks, but asked why I would want that info, since we already had contacts in both armies that were of a much higher rank. He also asked why I was still playing at this detective stuff, and mentioned that it was taking all of his effort preventing the Sharper from executing heists that would most likely leave everyone dead and that the other two members were of no help, since they couldn't think their way out of a paper bag, not to mention he's still cleaning up last week's shootout. I clarified that I meant a Dersite named Rook and not an actual rook, and assured him that I'd resume my position in the Shufflers as soon as I finished this case. He asked if I had any pictures. I replied that I did and that I'd get them to him as soon as possible. He said he understood, and hung up.  I decided to begin my search. The bartender at the Deep Blue had seemed familiar with Bishop, like she was a regular. It stood to reason that he might know Rook as well. It was a lead, at least. The bar was less crowded at this time of night, the promise of an alcoholic buzz replaced with the the threats of a hangover.  I moved quickly, stepping over a few unconscious pawns, to where the bartender was wiping down a glass.

"What can I get you?" He asked, without looking up from his task. ">([information]" I said, ">([im looking for someone named rook]" "Don't know him." ">([big guy? code kinda looks like two bears #ig# fiving?]" The bartender just shrugged. I sighed. ">([bis#op sent me]" The bartender looked up at me. "In that case, I last saw him about a week ago. Wouldn't stop talking until I put a couple of drinks into him."

">([talking about w#at?] I asked. 

"He was pretty incomprehensible. Kept babbling about ghosts," the bartender scoffed. 

">([g#osts?]" I leaned forward. "Yeah. Kept talking about what he did to Casper and they were gonna kill him over it." A cold feeling filled my gut. I had a suspicion of what had happened to Rook, and I had the feeling that Bishop wasn't going to be very happy if I was right. 

">([t#ats all the questions i #ave. t#anks for t#e #elp]" I stood, reaching into my pocket.

The bartender grunted and returned to cleaning his glass.

I pulled out my phone and called the Dealer. I voiced my suspicions and he confirmed them. I told him to gather the Shufflers and head to where the body was. Next, I called Bishop.

">([bis#op? its turkin. i know w#ere rook is. meet me at t#e kasparov]

Bishop was waiting for me when I arrived. I motioned to the building behind her.

">([w#at do you know about t#is place?] I asked. Bishop shrugged. "Not much," she said, "it's the Deep Blue's main competitor. No idea who owns it."

I motioned for her to follow and headed inside.

">([#eres w#at #appendd as far as i can tell]" I pushed through the crowds in the bar, heading towards the back. ">([rook was in a gang. t#e same gang t#at owns t#e deep blue. last week t#ere was a s#ootout #ere. one started by a gang trying to take territory]"

I threw open the door at the back of the bar, revealing a descending staircase.

">([rook managed to escape. for a w#ile at least. eventually the people w#o own t#is place caug#t #im]"

We had reached the end of the staircase. Another door awaited us. ">([t#ey caug#t #im and did t#is]"

I opened the door.

Carapacians are tough. They have both endo and exoskeletons, and just killing one requires a significant amount of effort. That being said, whoever eviscerated Rook did a damn good job. I'd never have to wonder what a carapacian's organs looked like again.

I turned to Bishop. ">([i really am sorry for t#is]" And then I slugged her in the face.

You never forget the look on someone's face when they wake up about to be fed into a wood chipper. Bishop was no exception.

">([i bet youre wondering w#ats going on. its simple. i cant let you live. you #ave a reputation of being pretty smart and it was only a matter of time before you put two and two toget#er and realized t#at t#e kasparov is owned by t#e dead s#ufflers. t#en one day im walking down t#e street and you blow my brains out wit# t#is cute little side piece of yours]" I lifted her shotgun and showed it to her.

"Wh-what?" She struggled to speak. 

">([s#ut up]" I kicked her in the side,  ">([im monologuing #ere]"

She coughed, blood dotting her mouth.

">([so im just gonna feed you into t#is mac#ine #ere and be done wit# you. t#is is my #ouse miss bis#op]" I said, ">([and t#e #ouse always wins]"

[avoiceinthestatic]

From The Journal of Occeus Coliad

Eye was disp.o.sing the results .o.f the test .o.f batch three-twenty-.o.ne, w.o.ndering what eye was missing, wheye the revenants eye managed t.o. reveyeve retained the animalistic instincts .o.f their c.o.mp.o.nent parts, when the strangest th.o.ught entered meye mind: What if eye were t.o. add seawater int.o. the next batch? The black depths have many strange pr.o.perties, perhaps they w.o.uld rest.o.re m.o.re than just the m.o.st basic brain functi.o.ns t.o. the revenants? Unf.o.rtunately, bef.o.re eye c.o.uld test it, eye was stricken beye a headache, and spent the rest of the day in meye recuperac.oo.n. Eye must remember t.o. get m.o.re rest.

T.o.day as eye was withdrawing the bl.oo.d I needed f.o.r the next batch, Ellsee c.o.mplained .o.f lightheadedness and fatigue. When pressed, she admitted these sympt.o.ms had been plaguing her f.o.r a wheyele, at least a m.o.nth. Eye fear eye have been taking  much m.o.re bl.oo.d fr.o.m her than is healthy. Eye may have t.o. put a temp.o.rary st.o.p t.o. meye exeperiments wheyele she rec.o.vers. Her health is .o.f the utm.o.st imp.o.rtance.

Pr.o.curing a subject f.o.r the test is pr.o.ving tr.o.ubles.o.me. Eye am .o.ut .o.f wh.o.le c.o.rpses and the recurring headaches render me unable t.o. c.o.llect m.o.re. Eye may have t.o. make d.o. with an amalgam. Eye shall send the parts t.o. Mr. Ferr.oo. at .o.nce.

Leyevan has .o.nce again .o.utd.o.ne himself. The specimen is in excellent shape. The experiment shall c.o.mmence t.o.m.o.rr.o.w. Experiment L.o.g Subject is an amalgam .o.f f.o.ur c.o.rpses, c.o.nsisting .o.f red, .o.chre, green and indig.o. bl.oo.ds. Batch three-twenty-tw.o. c.o.nsists .o.f seventy-five percent aqua vitalis, a previ.o.usly disc.o.vered mixture of aqua regia and leyeme bl.oo.d, and twenty-five percent seawater. Begin testing  At teyeme zer.o., batch three-twenty-tw.o. is appleyed. At feyeve minutes, subject sh.o.ws initial seyegns .o.f revivificati.o.n. At seven minutes, subject begins pr.o.ducing v.o.calizati.o.ns. At ten minutes, revivificati.o.n pr.o.cess is c.o.mplete. At eleven minutes, subject n.o.tices .o.bserver and waves. End testing. Incredible! N.o.t .o.nly have the revenant's veye.o.lent tendencies been curbed, it sh.o.ws a level .o.f intelligence eye have never seen in its keyend, and even appears t.o. be amiable t.o.wards me. This is a massive breakthr.o.ugh in meye research. Eye must admit, h.o.wever, that the agent resp.o.nsible f.o.r this devel.o.pment being th.o.se accursed waters c.o.ncerns me. Few g.oo.d things have been a result .o.f th.o.se Stygian depths. Still, eye must remain .o.ptimistic. This will surely lead t.o. an.o.ther breakthr.o.ugh. Ellsee has declared subject three-twenty-tw.o. "T.oo. cute" and inf.o.rmed me that eye sh.o.uld "keep him." As unsceyentific as these .o.bservati.o.ns are, eye feyend meyeself c.o.mpelled t.o. agree. Eye have bec.o.me queyete enam.o.red with the fell.o.w, and an extra pair of hands ar.o.und the lab w.o.uld be appreciated. Eye d.o., h.o.wever, disagree with her declarati.o.n that he is a "preci.o.us cinnam.o.n r.o.ll." He is a c.o.rpse, n.o.t a pastry. Eye have tasted b.o.th, and the pastry is much m.o.re preferable.  Eye've taken t.o. calling the revenant R.o.gi, after his c.o.mp.o.nents. He is meye partner, and t.o.gether we shall cleanse this land .o.f the c.o.rrupti.o.n that is sl.o.wly killing it.

[avoiceinthestatic]

Contrasts (Prologue)

It is the twenty-second bi-lunar perigee of the third dark season's equinox. All is quiet. The stage is set. The actors, unaware of their roles, continue living their paltry lives. 

The heir sits in the prison that she built, content to hide behind the sturdy walls and remember the past, rather than face the present.

The page repeats her lines, hoping the next act she puts in will let her find herself.

The witch cackles, her mirth blinding her to the fact that she is being used for a far more sinister purpose.

The maid speaks his poisoned words, unaware that the farther he goes underwater, the farther he strays from the light. The prince watches his experiments, hoping that this is the one that saves the planet he has withdrawn from. The mage feels the needle leave her flesh, the sacrifice of her life as an offering to the dead. A horseman rides, bringing terror and spreading damnation in a key of D.One watches, his grim visage obscuring his true nature.A preacher gives his sermon, selling salvation in a bowl of pasta.

The knight's needle enters the flesh, suffocating as he preserves the dead.

The thief watches his cameras, determined to save his friends and doom the world. The rogue collects his poisoned rocks, ignoring how his grudge is driving him underground and into the grave. The seer meditates, her faith disguising her benefactor's true intent for her. The sylph applies her makeup, hoping the next face she puts on won't be another lie. The bard sits in his room, content to watch the world die along with him, as long as he can stagnate in peace. All is quiet, but the night is still young. The stage has been set, the actors are in place.Two beings beyond reality tune in for just one last show.