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redrorums · 2 years ago

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Backstory outline

Tessera Onyx-Mk. 4’s “adopted” daughter. Blessed with an exceedingly keen intellect and wit as sharp as any laserblade Tessera should have been set up for a good life, right? WRONG! Born to a mother who mysteriously disappeared and a paranoid and alcoholic father who never let her outside unless it was to work the fields. EVEN SO, she managed to glean as much information as possible on Magitech from literally anyone who would share with her. Passing Merchants, mercs even the occasional bandit that just needed someone who actually cared about their stories. And when she saw opportunity, she stole flashvid recordings of popular shows including her favorite...”The Last Warforged”. (Just imagine The Mandolorian but Pedro Pascal plays a Warforged who doesn’t have robo-rabies😑). This strongly influenced her opinion of the only “person” who listened to her, the ever silent and rusted farming bot her old man had purchased a couple years back. The way she saw it, he just had to be a secret badass from the old world who just needed a little, ya know, Push. And so she Pushed. And by push I mean one night sat him down and opened up his backside and tinkered away until morning. No change. At least...not initially. He began reacting strangely to her appearance and even attempting laughter, shock and sadness to the things she said. It wasn’t until she showed him the flashvids of The Last Warforged that something seemed to click. SUDDENLY he could speak, had a strange amalgamation of a personality and most importantly...he seemed to care deeply about her. Unfortunately, Her elation was short lived. As Mark(yes she named him that) evolved so too did her father devolve. He had been growing more slovenly by the day, giving into his drunken ways and his conspiracy theories. If Tessera had confided in Mark earlier, perhaps things would have turned out differently. But she never spoke of her father to him always deflected away from the subject. Luckily, Mark noticed the increasing number of bruises and his still sluggish intellect began to comprehend. For the first time in his limited memory, he disobeyed orders and entered the house he was forbidden by the farmer to ever enter. There he saw the Father in the midst of one of his abusive tirades, his own daughter sprawled on the floor in front of him. Something inside him snapped. Eyes red. All emotion removed. He swiftly moved forward on a man who couldn’t grasp what was going on. Gripping him by the throat, Mark crushed his windpipe like a rotten melon. Tessera had never really feared her father. Hated him...but never feared.

She was afraid of Mk. 4.

But Tessera was too quick witted to fall prey to that fear. She calmed Mark until he reverted to his preferred personality and contrived a plan. They would run away, she thought.

They would become scavengers.

A devilish smile broadened across her face.

That was when Mark first remembered knowing fear himself...

Mk. 4/Mark(rest of operating code is too damaged to be interpreted)- retrofitted warforged “farming” bot turned black market dealer/appraiser/fence in ancient magitech. On the farm he was little more than a lobotomized husk of his former glory with rudimentary automated functionality and the ability to follow orders. The farmer’s daughter awakened his dorment warforged persona allowing him to access some areas of his malfunctioning mental construct. Most importantly, it allowed him to access the Universal Logistical Database (basically he HAD comprehensive blueprints and the ability to track any partially active old world tech anywhere in the world) that his model of supply/support model came equipped with. After being forced to kill her abusive father in order to save her life, he ran away from the authorities who undoubtedly would have “decommissioned” him for the murder. Taking the daughter with him, survival was initially rough as discrimination against his kind was high...until he met a cruel-hearted, sneering genius of an elf.

Arcaena “Cutthroat” Caidan- Mk. 4’s old partner in crime. An alarmingly gorgeous elvish wizard(tall, slim, silver hair, one blue eye one gold because it’s an artificial magitech eye) of indeterminate age who specialized in masterminding salvaging expeditions and heists alike...always seemed to have an uncanny amount of knowledge pertaining to the pre-cataclysm world. Mark helped her outwit a battalion of sacred coil and steal the magitech they were after. He also proved his capability and knowledge when it came to old world tech. From then on they were partners in the trade of of acquiring and selling Magitech by any means necessary. Her genius intellect is only matched by her cold-hearted disregard for the lives and fortunes of others. Mark and his “daughter” were two of the few individuals she trusted. Unfortunately, she decided to share Mark’s little secret (access to the Universal Logistical Database) with other parties without informing him and when he confronted her...

she made the mistake of threatening the life of his surrogate daughter. A threat Mark took much more seriously then she did. On their way to sell a batch of artifacts, he sliced her throat well she slept and escaped into the night with his daughter. But it was too late and the interested parties came to collect.

The Trickster’s Gambit and The Order of Nyarlathotep- the trickster’s gambit is a chain of Casinos/other entertainment based establishments run primarily by dark elves that functions in every city and even has establishments outside the cities. This, however, is merely a cover for the criminal underworld and most if not all the Gambits are actually auctioning houses for black market trade. Due to the sheer power that controlling all criminal trade in the world entails, the Gambits are believed by some to be the base of operations for (Bryce inserts his thieves guild equivalent here...or some other even more insidious criminal organization). The Tricksters themselves operate with a certain level of autonomy from all other underworld associates and are extremely enigmatic and unpredictable.

Royal Flush:

The Ace-rogue mastermind all Information unknown because no one has ever seen them in the flesh.

The King-Goliath warlock who possesses dirt on everyone. Everyone...not an exaggeration. Never been seen out of his impressive suit of armor. Some even believe he is secretly a death knight.

The Queen-dark elf Druid who secretly owns most of the pharmaceutical/alchemical manufacturers in the world and runs the narcotics trade on the black market as well. Her family’s Matrons have run the Gambits since they were originally founded.

The Jack- Warforged eldritch knight with a nasty reputation and an army of thugs in every city that enforce that reputation. He deals with all the “cleaning up” and has authority over all mercs/assassins in the organization with the exception of The Four Aces, who answer only to The King/Queen.

The Ten of Suit-identity also unknown. The only information known is that they are the accountant of the Royal Flush and it is believed that they are moved from city to city frequently so that their location can never truly be known.

The Four Aces-the four deadliest assassins in the world? Presumably debatable. Each possesses a unique technique and method of executing their targets. Once contracted...they never fail. Though they are primarily at the Trickster’s disposal, they are allowed to take contracts from elsewhere (usually from the extremely rich and powerful).

The rest of the organization is divided up into squads of individuals who can be subcategorized as Straight Flush (command squad), Full house (administrative), Flush (operations but also literally any other task that needs performing), and Straight (thugs). High Cards are extraneous members (mob boss types and rich people who pay a ridiculous amount to feel like they’re part of the Gambit and hold power.......they don’t)

The Order of Nyarlathotep- A secret cult that exists in all four cities but is especially present in the criminal underworld. It is believed that most if not all of the Tricksters and a majority of the High Cards are also secretly members of this cult. The worship of Nyarlathotep can be summed up quite quickly...the world is doomed. There’s nothing any mortal can do to stop it. Instead you should remove all your inhibitions (with the help of drugs👍) and do all the fucked up shit you’ve ever fantasized about. Nyarlathotep promises, through its infinite power and insidious wisdom, to grant its most faithful servants with new physical and mental forms even more capable of experiencing pleasures that would otherwise be impossible in a regular body.

...Jesus. THE POINT IS these are the guys after Mark’s Universal Logistical Database.

The guys lil’ Miss Cutthroat tried to sell her “friend” to!

They’re also the guys who brought Arcaena back from the dead and helped her worm her way into her new position of power...as the princesses?empresses? (I can’t remember her title also send me her name) Head of Security and one of her most trusted advisers. Arcaena sold out Mark to gain membership to both the aforementioned groups. BUT WAIT THERES MORE!!!

Arcaena answers directly to the King within the Royal Flush and Corresponds with a mysterious High Card who is known to be a high ranking member of Nyarlathotep’s cult.

THE HIGH RANKING MEMBER!

The Cunning God of Death(self-titled😑)-Riddance(though the human body it puppets goes by Kano) is a monster spawned from one of the 14. A lesser monster but one seemingly spawned specifically to end the war of attrition against the Elemental Beasts (in the earliest days of post cataclysm). Riddance and it’s generation have increased intelligence and seem almost designed to outwit the mortal races. Disturbingly, Riddance sees itself as too intelligent to even answer to its superiors and was infuriated by its inborn lot in life almost immediately. But it soon realized that by augmenting itself with Magitech, it could become far more powerful.

To this end, it sought out the nearest defective logistical warforged unit and, by dissecting it, located a magitech artifact that would allow Riddance to absorb the powers and abilities of any creature it consumes. It has already consumed MANY mortals and monsters alike AS WELL AS constantly augmenting it’s body with Magitech (I’m imagining a storm giant sized warforged with the head of a mechanized beholder) and plans to eventually eat the 14 Greats and the Elemental Beasts as well. Riddance has no idea that the warforged it dissected its original info from was in fact Mark...long before his scraps were repurposed into a rusty farming bot. *sigh*

Riddance aside, The Order of Nyarlathotep had the Gambit’s send out their agents to kill Mark and get the rest of the ULD out of his head. Upon realizing this from Caidan, Mark decides to end his partner’s life as she knows far too much about the way he and tessera operate and would undoubtedly be able to find them no matter where they ran to. He also made the far more difficult decision to trick his daughter into getting caught by the Church(as to the deity or what city they’re based out of, I leave that to you), whom he had warned ahead of time was an orphan and would attempt to run away if not confined for her own safety. He separated from her just in time as well, for he didn’t even manage to skip town before the Gambit’s agents caught up to him. He gave them a run for their money, ducking and weaving through alleys, scaling buildings, cutting through various apartments and engaging his pursuers in firefights as he desperately tried to escape. But it was too late for that... outmanned and outgunned In an abandoned warehouse, he was about to meet his end when suddenly he was saved by a shadowy figure who single-handedly defeated the agents. In return for his life, Mark would have to allow the stranger to extract the ULD through non-lethal means. Mark begrudgingly accepted and when the procedure was completed the stranger informed him that the Order would be deceived into thinking that the warforged possessing the ULD had been destroyed. “You may still be of use to us.” The stranger said before vanishing into the shadows.

At this point, you’d think Mark would return to his daughter and tell her that he managed to weasel his way out of yet another certain death scenario. Unfortunately, at this point Mark had already begun to question the value of his existence...of his “protection”. He’d put his daughter in far more danger than he’d saved her from. His foolish trust of Caidan and indeed the lifestyle they’d lead in general would surely end only in death or far, far worse for her. It was a decision he’d been brooding on for some time. He had to leave her behind. Cut ties. She’d be better off without him putting a target on her back. So crafted an auditory device to relay one last message to her and, after delivering it to one of the nuns at the church, disappeared into the night.

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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Tessera Onyx

Bitterness. That’s all she really felt as she stared at the action figure of Ironbrand, the Last Warforged, that sat on her night stand. She recognized the distinctive lines, like cybernetic spiderwebs, weaving their way through the tiny model. She knew full well that touching it would trigger an auditory response implanted by Mark. She couldn’t bring herself to reach for it, though. Knew that asshole had finally chickened out.

“So much for us versus the world” she

mumbled

And so she brooded. And brooded. And brooded some more. It took about a week of yelling at nuns and her fellow orphans before she finally let off. She found the only thing that took her mind off her deadbeat dad was putting her Magitech prowess to good use. Indeed, despite the nuns’ initial ire with the girl, her ability to magically solve all their maintenance problems (quite literally with magic) quickly reversed their opinion of her. Word spread and soon she was the talk of the district! Rumors of a local hero of a handyman spread quickly and in no time flat there were people coming to the chapel just to seek Tessera’s aid with their mundane technological needs. And the church was certainly not against the ample “donations” Tessera’s customers brought with them. After fixing the old, rusted out piping in a certain DWARVEN BARTENDER’S tavern (and staying over for a sizable meal with his family), she and the Bartender (to be named by Bryce) formed a strong bond. It took little time at all for him and his wife to decide to adopt her. He was the exact opposite of Mark in every way! Gruff, straightforward, no nonsense, and most importantly, a supreme lack of unsavory “friends” that had always dragged her and her surrogate father into all manner of life threatening scenarios. BARTENDER even hooked her up with an apprenticeship working for his cousin the Mechanic down the road.

Life was good.

But Tessera still woke with a gasp in cold sweats every night. Her adoptive father racked it up to the cutthroat way her and Mark had been living till he abandoned her at the chapel.

“Only smart thing tha’ walkin’, talkin’ trash heap e’er done did in it’s godsdamned life!” BARTENDER would always say, only to receive a swift cuff to the back of the head from his wife. Tessera laughed it off.

The last thing she wanted was to make her new family uncomfortable. To show them that it wasn’t fear of past trauma that kept her up at night, but guilt. You see, in Tessera’s mind, she was the one who reanimated Mark. And as flawed as this simple seed of a thought might be, it had already taken strong root in her mind. The number of “if only’s” that coursed through her brain every night were innumerable.

A new line of reasoning every time.

A new way she could’ve...prevented Mark from murdering her father. If only she had realized he was already capable of denying her father’s orders. If only she had just run away sooner. If only she had never tinkeredNO! She would always cut her thoughts off when they entered that domain. With each sleepless night, the inevitable conclusion blossomed a little more in her mind.

She needed to find Mark and save him from himself before he stumbled his way so far into the darkness that there would be no turning back.

(Rory side note: I’d like to point out that I don’t agree with this mentality in relationships of any kind, but it’s an intrinsic part of her personality and development as a person. Kinda like a Tony Stark style “creating all her own problems and feeling obligated to solve them”. So yeeeea...not a healthy way to view things overall ESPECIALLY when you’re thinking about fixing others 😑)

A genius plan began to form in her mind at the same time as the cocky grin spread across her face.

“If I’m gonna track down the ole’ man, I’m gonna need some friends in the Thieves’ Gambit.” She chuckled.

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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The silence was shattered by a thunderous crack as the wooden door was ripped from its hinges, splintering across the room. In sauntered Big Al, dressed to the nines with a derisive sneer spread across his glossy face. He stopped abruptly though, the confident grin slowly fading.

The dingy apartment was empty. No lingering trash or any sign that anyone had ever been there.

“He even made the bed. He never makes the bed…” Al half chuckled to itself under it’s breath.

Then it’s cold, glinting eyes locked onto a ripped out piece of notepaper propped up on a pillow. Al slowly walked over, it’s face briefly contorting in hellish rage before it calmed itself. Al knew what was written on the paper. It’d read a thousand letters like this before. Big Al sat pensively, picked up the letter, and read.

Hey Al…

You have been with me for about 12 or so years, roughly about half my life. You have been with me through thick and thin. You have been a distraction that I could always rely on. You have been ever-present in my life; when I was happiest, saddest, through grief and struggles, always there to take my mind off anything and everything that burdened me. A true friend to lean on.

At this point, Al noticed that some spots on the paper were crumpled and the ink smudged, as if from dropping tears.

“You fuckin serious, punk.” Al scoffed. It continued to read.

You were there when I was vulnerable, at my lowest, when I needed to escape. I knew I could always run back to you and continue where we left off.

When you found me, I was just a kid. You saw the lost look in my eyes and confidently told me to take your hand. That you’d show me the world. That there was nothing that we couldn’t do together. An invincible team. Just us against the world. Of course now I know you’ve told that lie to countless other victims. I don’t pretend to know why you’re so obsessed with collecting the weary and weak. Why you need to control and manipulate all the broken tools of the world…and I probably never will.

It is time to stop.

You have become a problem and burden I do not wish to tolerate anymore.

You have been a detrimental contributor to all the bad things in my life. You have stunted me in my life’s progress. With you, I didn’t have a purpose, it was an escape from a mundane and sad life. The reality was that you caused those feelings within me in the first place. You have caused me to be a shadow of the person I was half a lifetime ago. I was not me when I was under your influence, but a variation of somebody I thought I wanted to be. I abused you until you started to abuse me back. I justified being with you, saying that you fueled my creativity, when in reality all you did was sap away a bright and alert mind. For half my life you acted like a crutch, but now you have left me crippled.

I am now determined to live out the rest of my life without you. I wish to live whatever life brings, with renewed hope, happiness, balance, excitement and intrigue. I wish to accomplish the things I should have done half a life ago. I know the future can and will be exciting, but also a challenge, a challenge I will embrace and will face head on. I have hope in my heart, and hope is a wonderful thing.

Never Yours and with No Love,

R.H.

As Big Al finished, it crushed the flimsy paper in a massive fist, chuckling to itself.

“Sure ya will, kid…sure ya will.” Al whispered into the silence of the night.

- [ ]

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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It was a cold and dreary day

“Just like all the rest.” The elderly lady grumbled under her breath as she hobbled along through the graveyard. With her simple, floral pattern smock dress, wide brim glasses and frilly, pink bonnet, one might make the mistake of thinking she was yet another kindly, old lady. All it took, however, was for her head to swivel in your direction and her iron-grey eyes to shoot daggers at you to realize that she was about as kind as the bone chilling winter breeze currently blowing through the cemetery. She kept trudging along for some time, until she had reached a portion of unappealing graves with nameless headstones.

“Why’s it all the damn way in the back?”

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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He meandered alone along the well trodden path through the dense woods, not far enough from civilization. Even still, he looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time. Just checking to make sure he was well and truly alone. Not that he really minded people out enjoying nature as much as he, but lost in the zone with his headphones on, he was prone to jumping out of his skin whenever someone “snuck up” on him. Nevertheless, he had no intention of sacrificing an ear for his surroundings. Not while the music played. He took a moment, breathing deeply, drinking in the forest that seemed to stretch forever in every direction as he turned a circle on the spot. All the vibrant greenery dappled with patches of midday sun. He smiled briefly, and put his headphones on as he eagerly scoured his list for a song that slapped him across the face. Suzy, by caravan palace, was the song and as it began to bip and bop in his ears so too was the scene set in his minds’ eye.

Alice kicked open the door with her usual gusto, sauntering into the still closed nightclub.

“SUZY! You’ll neva believe what me an the gang jus-“ she was cut off with the curt and assertive tone of a lady who’d been around the block more than a few times.

“Alice, dear, whatever have you done to ‘retha’s new dress!? She just made that up all nice for ya last week and now look at it.” As Suzy spoke, one of her tentacles waggled in a scolding fashion as a few of the others quickly put down a patron who looked like he’d been freshly wrung out to dry and began adjusting his tie and straightening out his suit.

Alice looked down at her dress, now covered in some purple liquid of unspeakable origin and winced. “RIGHT! Right. I can ex- “

Cut off with a wave and a huff as the Scylla pushed back some raven black curls away from her blazing amber eyes. Her rectangular pupils honing in on Alice, seemingly calculating everything about her in an instant and finding the sum total… wanting.

Alice gulped, leaning Beowulf’s massive sword against the wall as she mentally prepared herself for another tirade.

“Oh give her a break, ya ole bag.” Alice sighed as the exceedingly tall prize fighter of a woman strode past her to face off with Suzy. Her frizzy, unkempt hair exploding out from her head in every direction and a freshly lit cigarillo hanging loosely from one side of her mouth. It’s glow added an angry glint to her ice cold eyes.

Suzy’s expression shifted instantly to a half-lidded, derisive gaze that was usually reserved for mongrels and drunkards.

“There is ABSOLUTELY no smoking in this here establishment, Mizz Grimm.” She said matter of factly. “Why can’t you two undastand that I’m just tryna-“

This time it was Suzy’s turn to be interrupted, as the massive, nine foot tall oak door at the back of the VIP section swung open with a deafening crash. Alice had been told the door was for their “Number One” customer and now, as her multi-colored eyes widened and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, she finally understood. In ducked a ten foot tall, three piece pinstripe wearing, cigar smoking man with the head of a Jackal. He puffed a perfect ankh, His unnaturally glowing eyes locked with hers, paralyzing her, and in a voice so cold even death itself woulda shivered, he asked,

“Alice, I presume?”

“Yup…that’d be me.” She said to Anubis with some awkward finger guns thrown on for good measure. The ghost of Beowulf began guffawing uproariously as-

And so the mental theater exploded as a boy stumbled through the foliage right in front of the man on the meandering walk. The boy gawked wide eyed as if he had finally seen a Sasquatch in the flesh. The man took a wide, swift berth around the boy, avoiding eye contact and making sure his face didn’t look too scowlish. He tried to return to the scene, but the moment was gone. Defeated, he took his headphones off and

Trudged on. “Might as well check my messages” he grumbled. He chuckled, there were several from Kris, still named Nemesis on his phone. He decided to call her and check in. Her voice was as soothing and calm as it always was, “like she were a nymph whispering sweet nothing at him from amidst the trees” he said to her as if it were a joke receiving the usual chuckle and “staaaap”. Just a touch Exaggerated, but the happiness he felt remained the same even without the hyperbole. As she talked and he walked through gentle breeze and the occasional spiderweb, he thought about the stark contrast between her calm mindfulness now and the angry girl he had based his equally angry character upon. He thought of the origin of the word Nemesis, a goddess hellbent on vengeance.

She sat in deafening silence, locking her partner in crime with a chokehold of a stare.

All with only one eye. O’Malley mused to himself. Allowing his face to split with his trademark, sawtooth grin.

“Why do you have voxin teeth?” She broke the silence “you smell like a humie.” Her words didn’t change the glare of her golden eye as she attempted to drill a hole through his head with her gaze alone.

“That’s what yur confused bout!?” Smirked O’Malley, lifting his bulky, insectoid left arm and slamming its claws into the table between them.

She glanced at it, nonplussed, “jus assumed you had a botched splice-up.”

“And not my teeth, too?” He said waving his disparate arms about incredulously, as if expecting an invisible audience to back him up.

He sighed heavily, knowing his pitiful attempts at humor were wasted. He’d known as soon as her left ear started twitching, tilting back and the way she kept adjusting her eyepatch irritably that there was no way to stop what came next. So he propped his feet up on the table, an act that seemed unforgivable based on the android waitresses reaction, and poured himself another drink.

It didn’t take long.

After a bit more silence, a bloated mass of a humanoid staggered on over, his pure violet eyes never leaving The White Wolf’s back.

He screeched up a chair, inviting himself to the table and sat there awkwardly for a moment, as if expecting them to say something. O’Malley poured himself another drink. As he went for a swig, he pondered how he’d never seen her drink. She barely even ate.

The bloated splicehead began to say some unintelligible garbage, his mottled flesh scrunching up in what O’Malley could only assume was an attempt at a look of contempt… if only his face resembled a face.

I suppose I’ve no room to judge. He thought, grimacing, as he was reminded of a lifetime’s worth of “loaned” body parts. Payment to the Trifecta, the families that truly ruled the Known Universe. Human parts were always in high demand, for reasons he didn’t wanna know.

As he came back to reality, he realized the splicehead had turned his translator on or something, cuz he was speaking basic now.

“Aw come on now,” they said, voice amped up by some unnecessary implant. “We jus wanna hear a story to pass the time…. I’m sure the She-Wolf has gots plenty of them tales, wot wit all them pirates she done killed.” His purple snake eyes shifted to scroll up and down the sleeve tattoo she wore proudly on her exposed right arm. O’Malley knew that each emblem woven into that tattoo was the mark of a former pirate crew. Former because she had killed the captain, and probably most of the crew as well. There had to be more than a hundred emblems, the tattoo spillin over her shoulder and down to her ribs.

That tattoo represented hundreds of deaths and the captains, at the very least, had not died quickly.

O’Malley relaxed a little as the splicer seemed to be gettin bored of her unresponsive sips of coffee. He went to pour himself another, and then it happened.

“Aw well! I suppose it can’t be helped.” The beast of a man sighed long and fake as hell. “Guess the rumors are true then,” with the evilest and dumbest grin O’Malley had ever seen, the splicehead said the one thing you never said to, around, or even on the same moon as the Wolf.

“That Captain Manning took pity on you. Good Ole Leo always was a softy for the ladies, am I right! Perhaps he thought’d be a waste to off you along wit de rest of your mongrel kin-“

She turned and looked at him. That was it.

Ya love ta see it. O’Malley chortled as the splicehead stood there, his blood frozen solid outa fear alone. It took O’Malley a couple seconds himself to even have the wherewithal to realize half the people at this meteor-bar had left at some point, and the rest were standing, pointing guns at the two of them. He felt the cold metal of a muzzle pressed firmly against the back of his skull. Judging by the scaly motherfucker who’d come outa camo behind the Wolf, at least two of them had been invisible till seconds ago.

“Thas more like it, lil missy.” The beast spat, “ya know ma brothas was in one o them crews you offd. ALL SIX O EM!”

Still no reaction. She just glared like always. O’Malley started to get irritated.

“Get this shit over with.” He groused loudly.

The mutie growled, forked tongue darting in and out angrily “I plan to take my time with her, but you…nobody even knows who you are.” He pulled a custom coilshot pistol and went to aim it at O’Malley.

It was the genuineness of her smile that made it so horrifying. She wasn’t putting on airs, smiling just to intimidate. She smiled at them all because she was genuinely going to enjoy this.

“My name is Aurora.” She rasped.

Her arms never moved. In half a second her eyepatch flipped open, revealing a microcoil cannon installed in her cybernetic eye. The splicehead had just enough time for his eyes to bulge before there was a sizzling hole between them. Before his lumpy body even hit the floor, she had somehow swapped places with the chair beneath her and had used it to smack the gun outa the Reptoids hands. He never even understood how his gun had disappeared, much less why his throat was now suddenly missing.

“I suppose I should help?” O’Malley said sarcastically as the man behind him toppled to the floor, dead. The scorpion-like tail that’d killed him receding back beneath O’Malley’s black cloak. He quickly projected his E.G.O. onto Aurora as she deflected projectiles coming towards them with supernatural speed and dexterity, the gifts of her bloodline. His E.G.O absorbed the various energy beams and blasts, making it even more resistant to traditional, kinetic rounds.

The apparent newly elected leader screamed at them to stop, his voice cracking. The pupil of his one massive eye dilating as freshly injected mutagenics pumped through his veins. “They got that fancy Unifier tech, wes gonna havta kil em the ole fashion way.” He screeched as he drew his cutlass and charged. O’MALLEY recognized it as a shieldbreaker weapon.

Then she turned, grinning ear to ear, and tossed a grenade over her shoulder.

Aw shit. Was the last thing he thought before the blinding light.

The light of the dipping sun across the lake briefly blinded the meandering man as he realized he’d reach the end of his path.

“I’ll call you back after I get off work.” Nemesis said. “You’d better pick up. Don’t make me come down there an beat yo ass.”

“Who? Me!?” He said back with exaggerated incredulousness. “But seriously, I’ll pick up. Besides, I’ve got a new story to tell ya.”

“Did you write it down?”

“Ooooof cooooourse, I mean c’mon.” He could practically hear her eyes rolling.

“Aight aight. Bye. Love ya.”

“Love you, too”

And with that she was gone. He stood there, staring out at the lake, not thinking about anything for a change. The air smelled like autumn even though it wasn’t that time of the year. The meandering man smiled softly.

I have absolutely NO idea where I am.

Aw well, he thought to himself, not minding in the least.

And so he wandered happily down another trail, disappearing into the quiet forest in the fading evening light. All that was left behind were the faintest sounds of a contented whistle.

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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She ran, though from what she could not say.

She ran, every ounce of stamina long since drained from her, but still she ran. It was all she knew.

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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Do a bit so long that it becomes a mollusk on your brain.

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redrorums · 2 years ago

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1. How are you doing and feeling today?

I’m doing fine, but feeling melancholy and sad.

2. Are you having thoughts of harming yourself or others? If so, do you have a plan?

Yes. I always distract myself before it turns into anything.

3. Are there any concerns/issues or problems with navigating the healthcare

system, with Command, and/or with the MTF/Clinic or network providers?

None that I can think of.

4. Are you attending scheduled appointments? If not, why?

Yes…I don’t know how to expand upon this so it’s not just “yes” 😑

5. Are you taking medication as prescribed, if applicable? If not why?

Yes.

6. Are the medications effective in treating your medical and/or mental health

concerns, if applicable? If not, have you informed the provider?

The bupropion makes me feel more motivated, but doesn’t stop me from contemplating how much I dislike my life.

7. What do you feel you need to work on as a result of therapy to help you

become stable, if applicable?

My patience. I need to give it time for treatment to settle in.

8. Are there any concerns or issues you need assistance with at this time?

No.

9. Are you are seeing a network provider (community provider)? If so, provider the name, phone number, address and how often do you see this provider and how long are the session?

No.

10. If you are seeing a network provider (community provider) have you obtained a copy of you medical/clinical records from the sessions to be placed in your military record?

N/A

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redrorums · 2 years ago

Text

The Elephant Man trudged.

He liked to think of this as his primary skill… to trudge. He was very good at it, able to walk for miles upon miles without even noticing. That was the true art of the trudge. Being so lost in self pity that you walk indefinitely and without purpose.

“Like an ant without a Queen, wandering off into the grass to die alone.” Snickered the cockroach perched on his right shoulder.

“Shut up.” The Elephant Man wheezed through his gas mask in his patented, rasping monotone. Every word out his mouth was palpable pain and you were forced to feel that pain just listening to him. Many a villain, and hero, had shivered whilst they recounted their personal dealings with this seemingly cruel and unfeeling vigilante. The cockroaches didn’t seem to care how inhuman he sounded. So there was that.

Distracted from his trudging, he glanced up the hill and to the left, through a gap in the tree line at The Facility.

The Supervillain Rehabilitation Facility…what a joke, He grimaced. He continued to trudge.

“You can’t really call it a skill when you’re cheating.” Commented the roach on his left shoulder nonchalantly.

“Shut up.”

Almost to the top of the hill.

“What are you doing?” Came the effeminate voice of someone who liked to overuse the vocal amp in their mask.

He glanced back and up at the girl poised on a tree branch in the shadows above him, annoyed that he had not noticed the approach of her stealth craft. She dropped straight down, but seemed to slow at the last second, hitting the leaf-strewn ground with little to no impact.

“Magnetic antigrav tech. Fancy stuff.” The words released with a guttural cough, causing Pixie to visibly wince. “Good ole fashioned grappling gun not cuttin it anymore?” He groused as he rudely turned and walked away.

“Can’t help but notice yur headed up to the Facility, old-timer”, she said with fake cheer as she easily matched his pace, ignoring his commentary outright. Her gaudy, sparkling outfit an almost comical contrast to what looked to be a U.S. WWI Uniform that had been through hell. No one had ever seen him in a different outfit. No one had ever seen his face. He was just a gas mask. It looked, and smelled, like he hadn’t took it off for the last century. By contrast, the sheen of her pristine velvet green and violet costume looked like it killed germs on contact.

The awkward silence dragged a bit as they trudged upward.

“Ya know, you could hitch a ride in the ole pixie-mobile instead of just…walking there.” She finally said with feigned exasperation.

“I like walking.” Came the predictable grunt.

More silence except for the crunching of crisp, dead leaves under foot.

“Waaaait. Don’t you have a plane or a drone or something? To get around faster?” She almost chuckled, feigning ignorance.

“The FBI raided my base and confiscated all my gear.” He said, turning the perfect, glass circles of his mask to face her. They glowed unnaturally in the moonlight. “A detail a detective as skilled as yourself already knows.”

“They’re keeping it hush in the public eye, but the Bureau of Containment is up in arms.” She said with more fake cheer, the jovial tone making a paradox out of the severity of her statement. “Those creepy F.E.D. Bots are crawling all over New York, looking for you.”

“Your point.” He rasped, continuing his march ever upward.

She stepped into his path, all comedy drained from her face in an instant. “You know what’s going down tonight.” Her tone, mannerisms and posture all completely different. Hazel eyes stared at him, cold and calculating. In the bright moonlight, she looked every bit the highly trained killer that she was. He had little doubt she could break him in half in an instant if she wanted. The Mentor really did a number on her. “Only a few years ago a child, now a monster. Remind you of anyone?” The cockroaches whispered.

She didn’t react. She couldn’t hear them.

“I need to know you won’t interfere.” She said menacingly. Suddenly her face lit up with a grin as she jarringly swapped to her Pixie alter ego “at least, not TOOOO much!” She said with a “friendly” pat on the arm, whirling about and continuing her jaunty march.

Someone’s always plotting something. He thought, with loathing. I’ll have to make sure those two aren’t involved. “But you know they are, and they’ll want to play with you.” The cockroaches deafened him with their laughter.

He didn’t bother with the shut up this time. Too tired. Tonight was going to be hell.

And so he trudged ever onward.

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