Ep 35, Wooden Souls Finale

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ IC ~~~
GM: ::3 am has been known in the past of old Urth as the Hour of the Jackal. After an ordeal that took hours, you find youselves finally regrouped, rested enough to go on, and putting the finishing touches on your planning::
Lan: ::tidying up wherever they were, since it was liable to have been disrupted::
Martel: *sigh* ok, so we gotta get these folks off world. anyone got a shuttle up their butts they aint talkin about?
GM: ::Lan in his attempts to tidy the remnants of the Labyrinth camp rolls over a pile of laundry that he recalled being Saburo’s to find a small packet of paper::
An: My ties with the Reeves might be usefull.
Lan: ::refrains from adding “what remains of these folks”:: I’ve got a few firebirds left… ::picks up the packet of paper:: Hmm. ::examines it leisurely::
GM: ::the paper folds open into a note wrapped around a small, unmarked optical disk…
Martel: can you contact them from here?
GM: the note reads “If you’re reading this, I haven’t come back for it yet, and might never. Hopefully you’re one of my comrades and not a <Japanese Character> Jakovian…
Lan: ::checks the disk to make sure it has no marks:: Hmmh. Anyone recognize this? I think it was Saburo’s.
An: ::nods:: I can, they have a office here.
GM: …This disk is one of the main reasons Vlad is hunting me…
Lan: And… what does… Oh. it says here…. ::reads more::
GM: …keep it safe for me until I return, and try to decode it if I don’t. <Japanese Character> my friends.”
Martel: good. lan, found somethin?
GM: and so ends the note::
An: Where can we decode that?
Lan: Yeah. This is Saburo’s. I can’t translate parts of this, but it says it’s why the Jackovans were chasing him. ::hands over the paper to whomever::
Martel: weird ::takes the paper to give it a look::
An: I have to get to the surface soon, there’s someone I need to meet. ::pulls a scrap of paper out of his pocket and looks it over::
Martel: sad. I didn’t know saburo well, but he seemed pretty big to me… well. i’m up for a trip topside.
Daniel: ::leaning tiredly against the wall:: So there’s guild and church connections that may or may not help. Or maybe that little girl will do something. I’m not holding my breath either way. I figure we can do our best to grab your friend then maybe try to sneak or bust over the wall and try to survive in the jungle until they give up
Martel: taken ann and betsy with me though ::shoulders the machine guns:: listen, Daniel, i won’t ask you to trust to faith alone in this, we both know that’s a fool’s bet. the lord’ll do what he can… but you’ll need to get offa this rock tot ake the chances given. you know the jakovians ain’t gonna letcha live. not as long as they can find you, anyways.
Lan: ::has himself never seriously contemplated anything like storming a starport against the wishes of the local nobility before, even on a civilized planet::
Daniel: I know.. but I’m still not up for pinning everything on hopes that we’ll get off the planet looking like this even if we had contacts
Lan: ::takes the disk and wraps it up in a soft cloth, and stows it carefully in his pack between a couple rigid book covers::
An: As I said before, and I say to all of you now. I will not leave this planet until all who wish to leave, do.
Martel: I understand how you feel boy. I’ll do my damnedest to get you and yours outta this, but before you rabbit off to the woods, wait to see what we can scrounge up, ok? ::turns to An:: you said we got a meeting to get to?
An: ::nods::
Lan: ::nods:: We could try and regroup in the jungle, and get you all cured, before we, make the, um. Charge.
Daniel: That’s well and good An, but I think we should concentrate on getting your friend and see if any options close or open after that
Lan: I’d also obviously like to get a look at what’s on that disk. Yanno? In a… um. Disk reader. Of some kind.
An: ::nods:: I agree.
Martel: idiot box meybe?
Daniel: So how’re we going to figure out how to get your friend?
An: Well, I’ve got the address here of someone in the Pens. Or should I say someone who works in the pens. I think, I’ve got an appointment with her.
Daniel: Then we should check it out while it’s still dark
Martel: well, anyone know where the vat is? I got a fix on the shop, but she’s prolly not there.
Lan: You’re thinking, you could impersonate her?
An: So would you say that Maria will be easier to save indoors or during transportation. She’s in the Pens
Martel: transportation.
Daniel: Depends on how much effort they put into guarding their transports versus how safe they feel inside
An: ::looks to Lan:: I haven’t seen her yet. I don’t know.
Lan: ::nods::
Daniel: Do you know when they’re moving her?
An: Sometime today. Hopefully the contact can confirm a time.
Daniel: Think they might have changed that after all the shit that’s happened?
An: ::nods:: Perhaps
Martel: ::raises an eyebrow, but says nothing::
Daniel: Then no time to waste I guess ::levers himself up and heads out of the room, tossing over his shoulder:: I’ll get everyone ready
An: DAMNIT ::kicks at a close piece of rubbage::
An: ::nods:: Ok.
Martel: calm yourself An, the lord will provide. targets, that is… ::grin::
An: You’re right. ::smiles slightly::
Martel: you anger will be better spent on the deserving, so save your strength.
An: True
Martel: I, for one, am feeling cramped. shall we get started?
Lan: Let’s go. Er. Wait. ::thinks::
An: ::starts to move, then waits::
Lan: Too bad there’s noplace good to stash that disk. ::mutters::
Lan: ::follows::
Martel: sure there is, lemme show ya… ::holds out a hand::
Lan: Where?
Lan: ::doesn’t especially want to take his hand::
Martel: in me vest. flame proof, armored, smelly enough that no one wants to search it and its even portable!
Martel: ((takes lans hand and begins musical scene about undershirt hideaways))
Lan: Yeah, but. You’re also a lot more likely to get shot at with armor piercing rounds than I am. Anyway. Let’s just go…
Martel: hmmm, valid point, valid point. onward indeed.
GM: ::the Changed are moving towards the surface with you all, looking at their home for so long with mixed feelings… they’re curious whether you guys will be taking the longer, safer underground route or cutting across topside?::
Martel: ((if we have time, i’ll be voting longer/safer))
GM: ((they figure about an hour or so underground, half that topways))
An: I will cut across topside, give me a chance to meet with the contact before you all arrive.
Martel: good luck then, friend. bout time i started the prayers, so you’ll be gettin the first.
Lan: ::Lan nodded:: Should we … wait until a particular time to come and find you?
Daniel: Alright.. what’s the location?
An: ::gives the location::
GM: ::the troupe heads out after letting An out at a convenient sewer exit and orienting him::
An: ::thanks them as he goes::
GM: ::the storms have passed, summer is beginning… across the streets still slick with the end of the rains the stars glisten through the faint industrial haze.. the temperature is a bit uncomfortably warm in the humidity….
Martel: ::says a quick benidiction for the parting party::
GM: but it’s a nice night, regardless::
An: ::heads off towards the address::
An: ::breathing deeply the outside air::
GM: ::with reasonably safe progress, stopping to hide from patrols and keeping a metamorphed face up, An progresses to the address in about half an hour… he saw numerous Jakovian patrols walking a canvassing beat… unusual though it was, An thought he saw them looking about without their customary security… with apprehension as their gaze settled on manhole covers, fearing what monsters might boil up from beneath::
An: ::continues through the shadows, not pausing::
GM: ::the location is a small woodcrete apartment complex not far from the Pens, looking like many of the low rent anthill-style housing arrangements in the city… the name on the door says Howitz in letters traced by someone who can’t read well but is trying very hard to be neat::
An: ::knocks::
GM: ::there are no lights on in the complex as they’re peasants and it’s getting on towards 4 am::
An: ::stands to the side of the door and knocks again::
GM: ::after a long, lagging minute or two, a middle aged woman in worn but well-cared-for nightclothes peeks out across a chain::
Nanny: Can I help you ::she asks, tiredly::
An: Yes, I’m sorry to bother you, but I think you might have some answers for me.
Nanny: Oh?
An: What does the name “Pens” mean to you?
Nanny: You know, dear, customarily when young men bother old women in the dead of night, they at least give their names and a reason why an old lady should answer such questions.
An: ::smiles:: I’m sorry ma’am. I lost my maners.
GM: ((do you look like yourself right now?))
An: ((No))
GM: ((k))
An: My name is Chief Anhetpf Griffen, of the Reeves Guild.
Nanny: Is it now? I admit your hair’s the right color so far as I can see, but nothing else matches that description. I think you’re playing a trick on me.
An: I’ve played many a trick. …but this is not one. I am very serious, and I am sorry I had to bother you at such a late hour.
Nanny: It’s quite alright, if you can prove you are who you say.
An: How many people have you known to knock on your door late at night and announce themselves as a wanted criminal? But if you insist. ::changes his face back to normal::
Nanny: Ah, now that will definately do ::closes the door, opens the chain, then reopens the door:: Come in, but be quiet that you don’t wake my sister.
An: ::nods and steps inside, taking in the surrounding and being careful not to make too loud of a noise::
GM: ::the room is about what you’d expect… incredibly tiny sitting room and kitchen area, with a door cracked open and leading into a bedroom area and another presumably to the water closet… the place is tastefully, if poorly decorated… and you take this all in as the woman lights a candle and then shuffles over to a small table::
An: ::follows::
Nanny: ::sits carefully, gesturing for An to sit across from her:: Now if’n you don’t know, I’m Ms. Howitz, but most just call me Nanny.
An: ::sits across from her:: Its nice to meet you Nanny.
Nanny: Likewise, to finally meet you. Maria talked a lot about you… about how you’d come to save her… especially when the withdrawal was worst… I do what I can for her, like I does for all the poor souls that I’m supposed to just clean up after. None of the guards much mind, since they aren’t usually around for long and benefit from the company.
An: What has happened to her?
Nanny: O’course, I can only do so much, just bein one old poor woman who’s closely watched most o’ the time
An: Nanny… how do I get inside?
Nanny: Well, she’s been alright and well treated for the last week or so… the first couple were rough, as I said, having to help her through her hard times coming down… when we heard that Jakovian bases were getting hit, well she thought it’d be any second now you’d be bursting through that door… though I told her how well guarded it was… Then, well, I guess it wasn’t fast enough. Dr. Grig comes running in a few hours ago, ranting about how you’d all broken your “tacit agreement” and so he’d have to teach you a lesson.
An: Nanny. What happened to Maria?
Nanny: So they tranquilized her after she started kicking and screaming, and then they loaded her up and went ahead and took her to the Vats… said they’d jump the gun in case you were going to head them off.
An: … the vats. Where are they?
Nanny: Oh, they’re in a sub-basement type thing… in the middle of the city… I think under the building that got set fire to
An: Thankyou… I have to go.
Nanny: Good luck.
An: ::nods:: thankyou, ::fishes into his pocket and drops 2 firebirds on the table:: One for you and your sister.
An: ::leaves quietly::
An: ::hurries out of the building into the nearest manhole::
GM: ::and nearly runs into the shadowy figures looming in the alley outside the apartment:
An: ::stops::
GM: ::there are at least half a dozen:: Mista Griffen?
An: Depends, who’s asking? :: moves into a defensive stance::
Javed: I tink we got a coupla friends in common, no? Little blonde girl and big black guy?
An: ::squints in the dark:: Do I know you?
Javed: ::steps forward into the better light from the sky, resolving into an impressive looking man that’s not quite aryan enough for the region, wearing plastiplate armor with the Muster emblem, and toting a big gun:: I don’ tink so, but like I sez, we ‘ave friends in common… De name’s Javed… now don’ make us work too much harded for alla dis cloak and dagger codewords shit
An: ::takes a reflexive step back seeing the gun:: It appears we do. ::steps forward and offers his hand:: What can I do for you?
Javed: You’s can point us towards where you need us to go ta get yer friend… little girl shows up bearing enough firebirds to pay da contract for yas… Not that I’da taken it ‘gainst the Jaks, but fer what they did to my guildmate Saburo
An: ::grins:: I can show you. This way. ::heads toward the closet sewer grate:: ::stops:: What.. what happened to Saburo?
Javed: ::sighs:: Som o’ dem what works for the big evil honcho dropped off his head yesterday with a big ole’ “Contract Completed” stamped on it… Bastards was tauntin us cause they knew we’da never taken the contract on a guildmate
An: ::bows his head for a moment then looks up:: Let’s go… we have Jackovians to skin.
Javed: Right den ::follows with his crew into the sewers::
GM: ::where after a few minutes you intersect the oncoming Changed migration.. who also get real ansy seeing half a dozen big soldiers::
Martel: ::I move between the two groups to provide a nice wall:: Chainers? good to see you boys aint shootin at us.
An: No, they’re support.. from Morning.
Javed: Not this month at all… I suspect that yas hang around too long we might get a bigger counteroffer… but tanight we’re all on yer side..
An: I have new, they’ve moved Maria to the Vats a few hours ago.
Martel: Served Chaplain with a company on bannockburn a while back. you know what yer gettin into?
Javed: OH! Ferget my own head next ::hands a paper to An:: From de girl
An: ::takes the paper and reads::
GM: ::written in Morning’s neat, schoolgirl handwriting “Hi An! Hope this finds you alive. I am moving and shaking as best I can to help you out. I hired these guys. They did not want to at first, but something changed their minds. I cannot complain about that. I think that I can fire most of my staff before we leave for the next part of the tour. (In a day or so, so hurry!). But I do not know if I can get Mother to take your friends if they are so obviously strange looking (she might figure out something is wrong), so hopefully you can cure them like your friend Lan wanted to if they are to come. Meet me at {address downtown} or get a letter there when you get done. –Morning”::
Martel: well well, looks like goldilocks knew where to throw her perfume after all. ::laughs shortly::
An: ::fold the note up and places it in his pocket:: We are heading towards down to the building that burjned downtown. The vats are underneath. Hopefully we’ll find an entrance from the sewers.
Daniel: Makes sense… we’ll try… if not, you know what the foyer and elevators look like right?
An: ::nods::
Martel: on we go then. ::looks to the Chainers:: say, you boys have been blessed recently, right?
Javed: ::shrugs:: Couldna hurt
GM: ::the party, after much shuffling, reorients south and heads on::
Martel: right then ::closes eyes:: Lord, don’t make’em dead yet.::opens eyes:: righto then.
GM: ::a mid-teen demonic, looking still a bit chewed up from the earlier fight, wanders up beside Lan:: Mr. Lan, do you think we’re going to make it this time?
Lan: ::puffs out his cheeks:: Well. That’s not my… um. I mean. We’ll make it if we’re meant to. Otherwise. ::sighs:: We’ll lick our wounds and try something else. Mmm? Let me have a look at that… here. ::takes a look at the kid’s wounds, even if he’s already treated them::
Martel: ::laughs and shakes his head:: lan, you gotta work on yer speeches.
An: ::while walking moves up to walk next to Javed:: This might be awkward, but I just recently realized… I’m unarmed. Any of your men happen to carry a spare side arm I could rent off ya?
Kid: I mean.. I almost died earlier… I’m sure of it… and it was scary. But, I mean… what’s really scary, is that maybe if I die like this, the Creator will just punt me right down ’cause I look the part… And I was wondering whether maybe I should get started on your treatment thingie.. you know.. just to show willing to the almighty, even if it doesnt work right away?
Martel: hey An, want a machine gun? betty is nearly full.
Lan: ::frowned:: Let me tell you something young man. I’ve had some theological training myself. The pancreator does not turn away the injured. And that’s what your deformity is. Just an injury. That can be healed.
An: ::looks over:: … sure.
Lan: If you’d like… though….
Javed: Oh yeh, she mentioned that too ::pulls out a slug rifle for An and about a half dozen others:: anyone what knows how to use these go ahead
Lan: ::Set down his pack for a second.:: I suppose it couldn’t hurt.
An: ::takes the rifle::
GM: ::several other Changed have gathered around Lan’s pack, apparently thinking the same thing as the kid after he brought it up::
Lan: ::looks around at them. Blinks:: Okay. Hey, an you guys give me five or ten minutes?
An: ::looks antsy, but nods to Lan::
Lan: I mean. Can. Can, An? ::sighs. Starts measuring out doses of the reagent.:: Okay.
Martel: i guess this is as good a time as any for a religious ceremony ::lights his cigar, takes a drag, and sighs, thus compleating said ceremony::
An: I will take the treatment last. Only after everyone is done.
Lan: I want you to snort a bit of it, and swallow the rest. It’s not pleasant tasting stuff, but I don’t have the means to deliver this any other way. ::he gives a dose of the powder to the kid::
GM: ::the kid partakes of what very well may be his last sacrament… quietly and with reverence, hoping that this will make up for the suffering he’s gone through::
GM: ::the others quietly wait in line for their turn, leaving several doses left, for the previously much larger congregation, when it gets to An::
Lan: ::afterwards, he gives the kid an immunosupressant to take. Then he doses 9 others, announcing:: I can’t really dose more than 10 of you and have any left for follow-up. But… ::thinks:: Well. We can always make more, I expect.
Martel: keep an eye out for it in the lab while we raid it lan.
Lan: ::doses the rest. Then calls An over:: You might as well get in on this too. You’ll all be ready to walk down the fashion runways in notime. ::grins weakly::
An: ::stops at lan::… no. If this really is a cure, there are other who need it before me. It began with me… it will end with me as well.
Lan: ::shrugs:: I’d like you to take it now. Anyway. Everybody’s doing it. And there’s leftover.
Lan: ((It’ll make you feel good…. feel good…. ))
An: We have enough doses for everyone?
GM: ((yeah, he’ll just need to grab more when you’re raiding, as Martel pointed out))
Lan: Yep. I do.
Martel: ((kinda a “as long as were here and raiding you” thing))
Lan: ::summarily holds out a scoop of powder::
An: And everyone has been dosed?
Lan: Except you. The initial snort will titer you up on it, to get you started. Your stomach and intestines will absorb the rest more slowly.
An: ::stops and looks at the powder, long and hard::
Lan: It’s not really pleasant. Sorry I don’t have any water.
Martel: I might have some whiskey on me ::searches his pockets::
An: ::shakes his head and picks up the slug rifle:: We don’t have time… ::starts moving south::
GM: ::Martel unearths his sadly empty flask from his robes::
Martel: ::snif:: hey, you chainer boys happen to have some moonshine on ya by any chance?
Lan: ::shrugs. Puts the last of the stuff away::
Lan: ::packs his pack back up::
Javed: Not on duty
Martel: sad. But the lord gives us these challenges so that we may remain sober during the firefights. ::nods to himself piously::
GM: ::it’s slow going, through the city, and up ahead An seems to be in one of his patented twitching funks::
GM: ::above, the earliest morning traffic is starting up, while it’s still dark, as there’s no rest for the wicked, or for the peasants they crush beneath their heels::
Martel: ((so, lan, how bout them chances of survival against impossible odds?))
Lan: (( ::gets out his calculator:: Let me ask my think machine. I’m qualified to operate one at this level, yanno. ))
Martel: Lan, i want you to stay under cover as much as possible. yer prolly the only one among us that can tell immunosuppresants from uncut drugs. whatcha need to translate that thing anyways? ::motions towards the disc::
Lan: The disk? ::whipsering, he doesn’t know why:: Well. A think machine. With a compatible slot.
Martel: great, ya need an idiot box. well, do most have compatable slots with that kinda disk, or are we lookin fer somethin special.
Lan: T…hat I don’t know. I don’t routinely use… think machines.
Martel: well, good for you. get something to do all your thinkin for ya makes a man an idiot. If we find one a dem high-up folks wearin one in the vat, I’ll tear it offa him for ya.
Lan: ::sighs:: Ooohkay.
Martel: what? he aint too lik;y to just hand it over, no matter how nice i ask.
Lan: Sure… I agree…
Martel: right then. ::continues on in silence::
GM: ::finally, the twists and turns lead to the center of the city… you’ve traced around what must be the sub basement, but there’s no way in and the walls are incredibly thick and probably heavy metals… all that remains is topside in the half hour before dawn::
Martel: welp, nothin for it i guess. you mind if i do the honors An?
An: ::is lost in though::
GM: ::Javed and the other five muster are gearing up, strapping down, and helping the mutants with their weapons, just waiting for the word::
Martel: ummmm, kay. don’t come up unless you hear the ok, or gunfire, whichever comes first. ::starts up onto the topside::
An: ::shakes his head:: Huh? I’m sorry, what were you saying?
Lan: ::tries to look small and insignificant::
Martel: you ok An, yer kinda outta it. i said don’t pop up untill you hear gunfire, or an ok from me.
An: Sorry, its just.. :: mumbles:: … lan. Give it to me.
Martel: *sigh* good, i didn’t want to have to slip that crap into your drink or something.
Lan: ::looks around:: <q>Yeah ::unslings his backpack, and promptly scoops out some reagent in his makeshift scoop:: Like I say. Snort, and swallow.
An: …::takes it and looks to the changed:: For a new dawn ::snorts and swallows::
Martel: and while yer busy with that ::starts moving to the topside…again::
GM: ::the chemicals settle throughout An’s system… and, like he’d been led to believe, something is missing… it feels like magic, tripping all of his psi senses.. but there’s one thing not quite there::
An: Amen
GM: ::rising from the depths like the book of the Eschaton, the Changed of New Milan spill towards the charred high-rise, false dawn at their backs, wings spread, shooting towards the doorway::
GM: ::Muster soldiers hit the doorway hard, easily clearing away the plexiglass with a couple of shots and a hard shoulder, and Martel not far behind::
GM: ::Guards stand up from their stations, their bloodshot eyes showing the last night of fear that something awful would happen again…
GM: something like this…
GM: Heaven, Hell, and human ingenuity spill across the foyer, the bark of gunfire echoing off of the ornamental marble floors and rustling the leaves of the potted plants::
GM: ::a wing in clipped here, a shoulder grazed there, but even the up-staffed main floor security fall quickly beneath a properly armed onslaught::
GM: ::in moments it’s over, nothing left of the Jakovian agents but cooling corpses, and An is able to point out the service elevators::
GM: ((just letting you all know, it’s fine to interject at any point))
Martel: well, so far, too easy. on to the basement? ::looks around for goodies among the fallen::
An: This way ::reloads the rifle while moving towards the service elevator::
GM: ::the doors of the several elevators slide open, and a key on the desk sergeant fits the slot at the bottom… An sees several floor buttons that he’s visited recently taped over with “Under Repair” written on them::
Lan: ::waits for the signal? Peers out from wherever he’s hiding his face?::
Lan: ::hustles to follow::
An: ::looks for a basement button::
Martel: ::looks at the signs, and grinns hugely at An::
GM: ::the keyhole at the bottom is probably it… it should be possible to toss the key from elevator to elevator and get everyone down roughly at the same time::
An: ::does it::
GM: ::click, chunk, TING! is repeated three times in the suite of freight elevators as a few dozen changed, a priest, a doctor, and a half dozen heavily armed muster slide into the basement::
GM: ::whirrrrrrrrrrr….. clong… BING! as the doors slide open on hell::
Lan: ::swallows convulsively, clutching the straps to his backpack::
Martel: ::stands in front of the doc, both machine guns leaning for the door::
GM: ::you are standing on the edge of a mammoth set of rooms… the large ampitheatre style setting broken up with numerous plexiglass viewing chambers with apparati within that glisten with the promise of genetic torture… here and there are spaced large metal vats, the insides empty but stained with what could only be a viscous green goo when full.. before individuals can be identified on the tables, your eyes are drawn to the three Kossacks and dozen bully boys down here that all begin moving towards the first elevator::
Martel: Lan? Find Me Something Flamable.::opens fire::
An: ::begins firing::
An: ::scanning the room for any sign of Maria::
GM: ::the small room is quickly filled to deafening by the roar of guns, as screaming metal flies in the near distance between opposing sides…
Lan: ::looks around for anything flammable::
GM: just as the Jakovian team moves into position to deal with the Muster squad in one elevator, two others fly open disgorging the Changed like wrathful demons or avenging angels, flying on a storm of bullets towards their oppressors.::
GM: ::Blood flies, armor is shredded, and the screams of the dying and wounded warp the air. Lan finds a bank of chemicals that could prove flammable.. then thinks to move them out of the firefight until you’re ready to leave::
Lan: ::scoots them, scoots them, working feverishly::
Lan: ::keeping one eye out for anything that’d read a disk::
GM: ::finally, with one mournful shot, the last Kossack falls into the remains of his fellows… on your side many are wounded and perhaps another half dozen lie unmoving::
GM: ::lan finds a think machine in the corner that seems to have an optical disk slot::
GM: ::as the gunpowder haze thins, An spies a small man near one of the enclosures, moving towards a back wall, looking nervous but defiant::
Martel: sorry i didn’t rip that offa him for ya lan, but i got busy.
An: ::moves toward him gun aimed defiantly at his head::
Dr. Grigori: You’re too late! But I’m glad to see my creations have finally grown a spine. ::squints at An:: Are you one of mine? I don’t recognize you.
An: ::lowers the gun:: Don’t recognize me? Why doctor, I’m supprised, after all this time. You used to give me hard candy as a child.
Dr. Grigori: Should I? Are you the Reeve that they say is one of the main threats from offworld? Han or something?
An: …while you were tearing my life apart.
Martel: ::starts trying to quietly circle around to grigs back::
An: An… my name is Anhetpf Griffen.
Dr. Grigori: OH! Has one of my early works come back after all this time? Really, I’m surprised… I figured your batch would have a hard time making it this many years? Were you on Leagueheim as a child then?
An: ::aims the gun back at his head:: As much as I’d love to give you the rundown. I have more pressing things to do. Moves foward so the barrel is in his face. Where is Maria?
Dr. Grigori: Griffen, Griffen.. no.. can’t remember a Griffen… had several Reeves you know, hard to keep all of you straight
Dr. Grigori: Oh.. she’s over there… I hope you understand about forcing my hand. It’s supposed to be a very tailored version of the virus… I only got about halfway through before I had to go ahead… I really don’t think she’ll last very long at all without my successive treatments… really a shame, quite a beautiful girl.. going to be more beautiful when the change has run its course
An: ::doesn’t take his eye off the doctor:: LAN!
Lan: ::hustles on over:: I think I found…. ::looks at them both::
Dr. Grigori: I do so like working on Nobles, such a simplified, refined genome, that… ::winks at Meredith, who bars her teeth and has to be restrained by her fellows to keep her from springing::
Lan: Yeah? What is it?
An: Maria. She needs your help.
Lan: ::looks at the doctor sharply:: You’re Grigori, aren’t you?
Dr. Grigori: ::glances at Lan:: You have a good bone structure, son, can I interest you in an upgrade? ::titters nervously::
Lan: Dr. Lan Maningzhou, if you please. ::cocks back and tries to punch the guy in the nose::
Dr. Grigori: ::takes it with a slight oof:: Well there’s no need to resort to violence amongst men of science, then, I take back my offer if it upsets you so
Lan: ::looks up at Maria, assessing the situation::
An: Lan… please… Maria, she’s going to be changing. Its the virus, what can we do?
GM: ::Lan walks into the plexiglass enclosure to find Maria strapped to a table at a 50 degree incline, barely covered decently… the table gives way at her shoulderblades… a fluid drip goes into one arm, but the virus has long been implanted… as is evidenced by the unsettling rippling going on beneath her skin…as you watch, skin becomes more refined, softer looking, shinier, flesh rolling to fit the doktor’s ideal of beauty…::
An: ::lowers the gun:: You know what, you aren’t worth the trouble. I forgive you… for everything you did. I guess I should say thanks. Of course… ::moves away from him towards Maria :: I don’t know if the others will be so forgiving.
Martel: ::turns and glowers menacingly at the doctor:: I’m a man of God, however, ::grins the evil grin of a pissed off avestite:: and I have absolutely no problem with resorting to violence.
An: ::makes his way to her side::
GM: ::…as An walks into the chamber, he notices that what had, before, been full beauty has been intensified to an almost heart-stopping proportion, every feature of her sweat-soaked face refined to perfection and still getting better…::
An: ::moves to take her hand:: … Lan.
Lan: ::sets about examining maria as best he can. Not sure she’s conscious:.:: Can you hear me, milady? ::looks up:: Hmmm?
GM: ::…small feathered wing buds are forming and growing larger from her back, and small cyst-looking nodes are forming on her shoulders and sides… pheremone centers… she writhes at the mention of her name::
Maria: ::feverish:: Wha?
An: Maria… dear. Its me… ::to Lan:: If we administer the cure. What would happen?
Maria: Who?::her eyes crack open, watered, as she looks in front of her:: An?
An: Yeah, I’m here. I’ve got ya.
GM: ::lan can see the virus working.. making a perfect, galateaesque beauty, but removing her Hazat strength as well… even now her muscles are atrophying under the virus… and, as Grig said, there’s no telling if she could survive a virus not tailored specifically for her stronger immune system::
Maria: knew… you’d come… just wish ::gives a pained, sardonic half smile:: it’d been a few hours ago…
Lan: Well. I’m not sure this is precisely the same approach. Pancreator have mercy. Bring That bastard in here.
Martel: ::grabs That Bastard by the hair and drags::
An: I know dear, I know. I’m sorry. ::takes a deep breath:: its gonna be alright. Lan’s here.
Martel: ::keeping a gun on him the whole time::
An: ::strokes her hand while holding it in the other hand::
Dr. Grigori: Unhand me you scalawag! You know a please is more effective than a gun in any situation! ::gets dragged::
Lan: ::smiles pleasantly to Grigori now that somebody is mistreating him:: Doctor. Nice of you to join us. ::talks the talk to him:: I wonder if you would consult me on a former patient of yours?
GM: ::the feel of maria’s still self-rewriting skin is vaguely unnerving to An… is this the eerie feeling others get just looking at him?::
Martel: ::looks at grig:: boy, don’t make me cover you in gasoline and use you for an ashtray.
Dr. Grigori: You wouldn’t understand. Nobody does, really, I’m a genious.. everyone says so.
Martel: so be a helpful genious, or a very very warm genious.
An: Maria… I need you to stay with me.
Martel: ::keeps a firm grip on his hair and begins searching him for any sort of strange devices::
Maria: Feels like… bugs under my skin… heh.. I thought last week was bad
GM: ::oh, all sorts of strange devices::
Lan: What do you know about the ::summons up some vaguely relevant and as-arcane-as-he-can-manage alchemical referent to simultaneously test the doctor and prove himself:: The mutable properties of fifth orichalcum?
An: Hey… listen… a few days from now we’ll be all together… on a nice beach somewhere. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Martel: ::i start removing them and setting them in my bag::
Dr. Grigori: Fifth orichalcum? Like you’ve ever refined past the third level? Pah, it can’t be done, I say! It’d be damn mutable if it could, mind you, having undergone 5 successive mutations since then
Maria: anywhere… that doesn’t have… any rain ::smiles slightly then grimaces as a spasm ripples across her shoulders and the wings begin to spread from the buds::
Lan: Well. The inevitable conclusion of your work with the immune system and your transjunct to Empyrian form. If it can’t be done, this is slightly pointless, isn’t it?
An: ::holds her hand tightly::
Lan: ::enough impressive babble:: Be that as it may.
Dr. Grigori: Yes, well, that’s always been the kicker, you see. I should have used an antimony chaser in the recipe.. but you do what you can with what you’ve got… I think halfway’s far enough, though, don’t you? ::leers at maria and reaches to run a hand down her flesh::
Martel: ::punches the doc::
Lan: You’re a brilliant man, doctor ::said through the gritted teeth of one mad scientist to another:: So, naturally, we should be able to …. ::looks at the deacon:: I say, let’s be civilized about this.
Dr. Grigori: Ow
An: ::turn to the doctor:: Do… not … touch.. her.
Martel: No. He heals her, or i burn him to death slowly, those are his options. ::continues searching the doctors pockets::
Lan: Tut tut, deacon. Now then, Doctor. I realize we can’t simply reverse the process. Talk to me about bringnig it full circle? Without exaggerating any of the original imperfections. That shouldn’t be out of reach, should it?
Dr. Grigori: If you have five years to kill you might be able to do it… but you’ve probably got about 5 minutes if you were as loud down here as up there
Lan: You mean, you couldn’t do it in less than five years?
An: No, he could not. But you can Lan.
Dr. Grigori: Oh, right.. you’ll need probably 20
Lan: Well. It will be embarassing to upstage the Doctor. ::tries to look regretful.::
Lan: ::sets about getting things in order to try and do something to help Maria::
Martel: well, seeing as how grease spot here is being unhelpful… ::turns to one of the chainers:: hey, could you bring me some of the chems Lan set aside a lil while ago?
GM: ::if the countdown is correct, then your alchemy juice is about what’s on hand::
Lan: ::unpacks his stuff nonchalantly, deftly. Looks for the best delivery method possible::
Javed: Sure thing ::stops pocketing chemicals that might sell for a lot and grabs the flammable ones::
GM: ::there’s an IV drip going right in::
Martel: ::drags grig to an open area where he can burn without being inturrupted:: just pour those bad boys right onto his feet there Javed, thank you very much.
Lan: ::unrigs the bag for the drip, finds a likely solvent, and dumps the rest of his powder in the bag, gets the drip going::
Lan: ::shouts:: Bring him BACK here. AN. Do you have a knife?
Martel: *sigh* oh allright. ::drags the doc back to lan::
GM: ::a scalpel is easily gotten::
Martel: but i still gotta burn him. church law and all that.
Lan: ::hadn’t immediately noticed the scalpels. Belatedly notices one, Chuckles that same chuckle as with hauling singed kossacks::
Lan: ::picks one up. Approaches the doctor:: First, do no harm. Would you say it with me, Doctor? ::holds the scalpel to his throat::
Dr. Grigori: I’m all up for that if you’re the man holding the scalpel
GM: ::the chemicals drip into Maria’s veins, but show little sign of halting the mutation::
Maria: An… does it always hurt like this?
An: No. Not always.
Lan: Very well. First…. ::he says, and draws the scalpel across Grigori’s throat with the force he can muster:: Do no harm.
An: Listen Maria. What do you want… huh? When we get out of here?
Maria: I don’t know… I’ve been in a dark place for so long… all I wanted to do was get out… but I don’t know how
An: Faith… there isn’t a darkness I can’t find you in.
Lan: ::drops the scalpel. And goes back to Maria’s side::
GM: ::a sibilant voice hisses from the air all around… it seems to sound like An, whispering loudly, but doesn’t issue from his mouth::
Voice: Now
Martel: Yer a lot kinder man than I, lan. Javed, douse this in the chemicles. I’ll burn it before we leave. ::tosses the doctor to Javed and walks over to Maria::
Voice: <w> follow my lead, if you want them all to actually LIVE
Lan: ::Stays alert. looks for anything else he can do to help Maria, while keeping his eye on An::
GM: ::an feels psychic probes dripping into maria, then spreading to all the other changed in the room… he can feel each of them on what must be a cellular level::
Voice: <w> Feel?
Lan: ::wonders what he’s supposed to feel::
An: ::feels the link::
Voice: It is in you to fix it… just reach out and try
An: ::feels the imperfection, feels the mutation::
Martel: ::begins to pray earnestly to a God who he reveres far too much to ask favors of for most things. But Martel asks for the Lords favor in this.::
GM: ((everyone can start the song now, also))
Lan: ((oooh. Cue up the song! ))
GM: ::the alchemical solution spreads throughout the flesh like a beacon… this is right, this is wrong, this should be fixed.. this should be balanced::
An: ::spreads his mind out into the changed, taking that which must be fixed, and making right what was once wrong::
An: ::pulling all imperfections out and drawing them into himself, to cleanse them all at once::
GM: ::every bit of farhand, every drop of soma, every mastery of diffusion goes to catalyze and guide the alchemy.. like holy fire it burns from within::
GM: ::from within, An feels a strong hand guiding him on, giving the power to push strength over the world to such a massive degree::
Martel: ::holds a stone in a crushing grip between his fingers as he prays, one can almost imagine a whisp of smoke rising from the rock::
An: ::embraces what must be done, and puts all of himself into it::
An: ::for the changed, for Maria, and for himself::
GM: ::every strand of imperfection is drawn within, every mote of light dropping the room to a golden glow… he feels it squirming, moving, writhing within… begging to be set free… to be cast away::
Voice: Let it go. Let me go.
An: ::lets go, finally::
GM: ::the force whirls within An, pulling free, wrenching and tearing… after the long buildup it pulls away more than it bargained for…
An: ::lets go of everything, self hate… everything::
Lan: ::is still probably watching Maria more than An…. poignantly oblivious?::
GM: every mutation, every erg of energy, every scar, every tear, every evil thought… left behind is the An that existed beneath years of self loathing and traumas…
GM: the tracks of the traumas remain, memories, but the cracked scars of the emotion are gone….
GM: all made manifest physically…
GM: with the wet sound of popping flesh, An’s shirt is ripped free as red light pulsates from his back scars….
GM: blood pools and congeals into form, and with a ghostly moan, a seperate form pulls off of An’s shoulders like the world from Atlas’ back…
Lan: ::yelps::
GM: pulling, tearing, trapped with all the bad things… the dark twin is made manifest, losing in its devil’s bargain more than it had desired… tricked itself by the soul shard…
GM: with one final sound like the ripping of an era, the room in plunged into darkness…::
GM: ::slowly, the ambient light returns, the immense drain of energy released::
GM: ::standing around the room are dozens of men and women looking no differned from a man on the street save for the strange rents in their shirts…
GM: on the workshop table lies Maria, as she has always looked, sleeping peacefully…
GM: in front of her stands An… his complexion less sallow, his condition more robust, his hair gone to a light blonde from its shade of white… nothing but clean, unbroken skin across his shoulderblades…
Lan: ::Trembles in the corner, mouthing “What just happened?!?” silently::
Martel: ::looks up and whispers quietly to the rising dawn:: Thank you Lord. ::and rises to his tired feet::
GM: and behind him stands the road that he was taking long ago… a stooped figure, flesh a chalk white but perfect in beauty…
GM: long white hair hanging down over its thin, wrecked body, a body covered in small black cysts…
GM: all covered by crude, drooping black wings that stretch away limply::
An: ::turns to the figure behind him::
Dark Twin: <w> well.. I guess that ended about as well as could be expected ::he mouths through perfect teeth::
An: ::looks the figure up and down::
Dark Twin: <w> I hope you’re satisfied, my brother, now strong inside and out… all through my help
An: Through my own help.
Dark Twin: <w> Suit yourself
Lan: ::switches over to mouthing, “Who is that?”::
An: So… what now brother?
Dark Twin: <w> Now, I go and see if, maybe, I can build from nothing and less than nothing of what you had, a life worth living on my own… leave me to my own devices, and I’ll attempt to leave you to yours
An: You bear the weight I could not, the weight that I did bear. Make more of it than I did.
Lan: ::takes a half step forward. Blinking at the… Ans?:: Are you okay?
An: ::looks to Lan::; Yes, for once in my life, I’m ok.
An: ::offers his hand to his brother:: Good luck.
Dark Twin: ::nods, puts one flawed hand on An’s now-strong shoulder, looks to Maria, gives a small smile.. part sardonic, part hopeful… then spreads the ruined wings on planes of force ascending towards the ceiling…
Dark Twin: …and with a burst of telekinesis, rips a hole through the floor and sails out into the foyer above::
Martel: ::looks up to the twin:: be good, Na.
Dr. Grigori: ::all soaked and sitting in a Vat, stares on, stammaring:: Wha.. wha?
An: ::watches him go then turns to Maria::
Martel: ::stalks back over to grig, grabbing him by the hair::
Martel: ::again::
An: ::takes her hand:: <w> ..wake up…
Maria: ::stirs from the peaceful slumber, looks up at An, smiles:: I knew you’d come in time
Martel: My apologies, Doctor, for that not having been done correctly the first time. I assure you, it will not happen again.
An: ::smiles and moves his hand to brush her hair back::
Lan: ::tries to drum up what remains of his senses. Looks around for useful medical supplies and other hard evidence::
GM: ::all sorts of things abound in this fully stocked genelab::
GM: ::including the forgotten think machine::
An: We’re gonna be going, ok?
Martel: ya know::puffs on his cigar one last time:: i gotta find me a better way to spend my vacations ::flicks the cigar, burnt almost down to a stub, but still somehow glowing, right onto the flamable Dr. Grig::
Lan: ::fortunately he’s got lots of newly empty space in his pack. He grabs things on the way to the think machine::
Maria: <q> I know it’s kind of silly at a time like this… but maybe you could find me some clothes?
Lan: ::draws out the disk, and fumbles at the think machine to the best of his ability::
An: ::laughs:: yeah, of course. ::moves away to find her some clothes not letting go of her hand until the last moment::
GM: ::The doktor smoulders for a few seconds, giggling, clearly finally driven insane by the last few minutes, then catches and rapidly burns to death inside one of the vats of genome altering chemicals::
GM: ::Martel likes to fancy that he sees a shadow of a true demonic wing cover the man at the last second.. but it was probably just the smoke::
Martel: ::nods:: right, well I’ll be moving along about now, hopefully before the reinforcements arrive. ::heads tgowards the elevators ::you all coming?
GM: ::the think machine loads the disk… whirrs..then loads a prompt: “Run\\ “::
Lan: ::guesses and types in “DIR”::
Lan: ::No? types in “?” and “\?” and “help” and so on.::
GM: ::”Unknown Cmnd, Rtry?”::
Javed: What ya doin over dere, eh?
Lan: Hey, hey. ::waves him over:: I need to look at the content of this optical disk. Do you know the command set for this … shell? Thingy?
Javed: You’d’nt take Tink Machine in guild class?
Lan: Nah. Physickers are specialists. You know. Give me a hand, would ya?
Lan: I’ll put you back together sometime. Professional courtesy?
Javed: ::leans over and types “Run\\Ld-dsk, 1x\” …. “\\Decrypt?” … “\\Y”::
Lan: Thanks.
GM: ::the think machine spits out a bunch of stuff, headed up “For Jakovian Eyes only, proper terminal access encrypted”::
GM: ::it seems to be a list of some kind of steps or an agenda… Javed hits a key and it prints out from underneath::
Javed: You ready to go now den?
Lan: Thanks. Yeah. ::ejects the disk and grabs the printout::
GM: ::the group heads up the elevators once more, and walks out into the foyer… about twenty feet towards the entrance away from the massive hole in the marble…
GM: there are a whole bunch of Jakovian guards and Kossacks…
GM: each with their neck snapped by some presumably massive force::
Lan: Oh. … ::Lan steps lightly around corpses on their way out:: Maybe…. maybe we should beat feet toward the starport?
An: ::helps maria over the bodies::
An: ::shakes his head:: No, we have a little girl to meet.
Lan: …. Oh.
An: ::pulls Morning’s note out of his pocket and hands it to Lan::
GM: ::there is a small sound like “fwoosh” as you leave the building… the sound of a Avestite dropping another cigar down into the lab?::
GM: ::after what seems hardly any time at all, you’ve moved to Morning’s apartment and rung her up just as the dawn of a new day pours over a people that have hidden from the sun for so long::
GM: ::under the light of the sky, most are no longer the sculpted bodies of angels or the terrifying forms of demons, but ordinary people.. and they are beautiful::
GM: ::some few retain a beauty that only comes from hardship, but none seem marred by the slightest remnant of their mutations::
Lan: ::Lan meanwhile can’t help but check them over, with an occasional “May I?” before peering at their backs and so on::
GM: ::in the next few hours, some are moved into place as Morning’s assistants and servants, set to move offworld…
GM: others decide to stay behind, to get their families and move to another city now that their appearance is average enough to slip the radar…
GM: for An, Morning points out that Sergei is gone and Mother says she needs a new tutor::
An: ::gracefully declines::
Morning: C’mon An, at least for a few months? Mother will just stick me with another Invisible Path if you say no.
An: ::thinks about it long and hard, thinks about Maria::
Maria: I think you should do it… it would mean being near Alexius… that might give you a chance to get the promotion that you know.. Father requires
An: ::nods:: I will, for a few months, but in a few months time I have some things to deal with. ::smiles::: Personal matters.
Morning: Yay!
An: First we’ll start on, advanced mathmatics.
An: ::winks::
GM: ::and so later that day a crew of fugitives from the Decados rides the ship of a Decados Duchess offworld as valued guests and employees…
GM: and all can look out at the immense world of Severus… so green and lush from up here…
GM: beautiful in its own way, from so many miles up::
Lan: ((::imagines some dream of someplace drier. Like a desert planet:: ))
An: ::watches the planet grow smaller next to Maria::
GM: ::as the camera pulls away from the ship, through the porthole there is only the image of Maria leaning against An, looking out on space, ready for a long deserved rest::
GM: ~~~ OOC ~~~

The Dark Twin’s Genesis

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ Meanwhile, in An’s Mindscape ~~~
An’s Shadow?: It’s all coming to a head, eh? Do or die time… your unwashed masses against their oppressors… will might or right prevail, do you think?
An: We will prevail.
An’s Shadow?: Have you decided whether you really want to save her? Would you rather have the unchallenged, unempathetic child of luxury, or the soulmate that’s been fucked up the same way you were fucked?
An: I just want her to be able to make her own decisions.
An’s Shadow?: How magnanimous of you. Yet I know the real An, seething with greed, itching to manipulate, wheeling and dealing… are you certain you’re willing to let that go… let me go? Is she really worth changing your life over?
An: I died once. This is my chance to change my life over. You only live once, but I’ve been given the second chance many never have. This time, I do things right.
An’s Shadow?: We’ll see.
An: yes, we will.
An: And, anyway, if I fail in this, I”ll be dead, denying you the right to an “I told you so” speach. ::internal smirk::
An’s Shadow?: Heh. Vindictive to the end, eh? Perhaps you haven’t changed so very much at all.
An: No… I just found my sense of humor.
An’s Shadow?: well aren’t you a bundle of contradictions. always avoiding the point, huh? just tell him he’s a quack, dont leave him hanging.
An: You seem to forget you understand just as well as I do.
An’s Shadow?: Go “damnit Lan, don’t you know what pseudoscience means, you stupid weirdo”
An’s Shadow?: c’mon, it’d be liberating
An: Shut up.
An’s Shadow?: Why? Cause I’m saying what you want to say, or because you don’t want to say it? I mean, geeze, how can we expect to live together if you’re just going to be so damn passive aggressive all the time… you need to confront your problems head on.. don’t just fucking tiptoe around them all the time
An: You are my problem.
An’s Shadow?: yeah, that’d be the easy answer, wouldn’t it. I’m just the representation of your problems, cause one of your problems is that you’re crazy… maybe if you fucking actually figured out how to overcome your problems rather than just yelling at me I really would go away.. you ever think of that?
An: Come to think of it, I’ve come to like these rants of yours. I like hearing you working yourself into a tithy and accomplishing nothing. Its self satisfying.
An: And of these “problems” I have, nothing more that the average person I would imagine. What imaginational hump must I over come in your twisted view of reality?
An’s Shadow?: Yeah. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it. Equal halves and all of that. Maybe you could enlighten me as to what you’ve accomplished lately
An’s Shadow?: Oh, you have problems.. it’s sad that you think everyone’s as fucked up as you… didn’t you seriously consider how to kill God for while there? that’s not normal
An: I’ll tell you what I’ve accomplished lately, I’ve lived. Its been long and hard, but I’ve done it. And god and me? We’re on better terms now.
An’s Shadow?: Then why are you afraid to take the good doctor’s divine cocktail, if you think it’d work because you’re on such good terms with the divine? I think you like being patient 0, the unsavable damned, the poor soul that can’t be saved while those around you prosper… it’s another kind of hubris to be the best at pathetic
An: What problems do you think I don’t confront. I know I am selvish, I know I am self loathing, I know I love the weight of a firebird in my hand. I know I’ve blamed the Pancreator for everything that was done to me. I know I’m condensending and I know that I’m different. I’m fucked up. But that doesn’t matter anymore.
An’s Shadow?: Knowing isn’t confronting. You think wandering around being self-sacrificing and pitiful is going to save your soul, but all you’re doing is falling to more and more pride
An’s Shadow?: What you say is that it’s all about saving your friends, but the drama of it is all about An. It began with me… it will end with me as well., right?
An: Did I lie?
An’s Shadow?: Did it ever enter your head that it might not have begun with you? That you’re just another casualty in the good doktor’s list, rather than the wondrous prototype? Did you ever think that hanging on to your fucked upness is just another kind of hubris? Do you want to be a real person, or does it suit your negative mindset to remain a half a man, wallowing in your freakishness?
An: If you haven’t noticed, I’m done wallowing in my freakishness. You’re the only one who wallows in it.
An: I embrace it.
An’s Shadow?: uh huh. So being different is enough is it? Why risk life as a mere mortal with An the psychic, mutant freak gets everyones’ attention?
An: So pathetic, and to think that I thought that being in my head. Being part of me. You would understand me. I am Anhetepf Griffen. If I cut off my arm it is no more me that my leg or eye. Its what’s in my mind, and in my heart that makes me. I’ve made my peace. It only remains to be seen if you’ve made yours.
An’s Shadow?: We’ll see… when it comes crunch time.. what I know is that there’s several dozen mutants wandering the halls with half a cure… and none of that alchemy bullshit is nothing without the magic to catalyze it
An: What are trying to say? Stop bouncing around the subject.
An’s Shadow?: you think you just mix chemicals in a jar and it can change people in ways that science can’t? That’s magic, there, and all this talk of alchemy is nothing without the spark of the divine
An: I understand that. Now we just have to wait for a spark.
An’s Shadow?: suit yourself
An: Its out of my hands, we will leave it to Lan and the Pancreator now.
An: I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.
An’s Shadow?: I figured you knew better than waiting on the Pancreator to make a miracle when there are others that can do it for Him
An: The pancreator works throught the people. What are you getting at? For once, speak clearly.
An’s Shadow?: You put your faith in God but not in Man, you spend your life waiting for the future. You put your faith in both, and you are the one that can make the divine happen.
An’s Shadow?: But if you want to take the damn potion, you probably won’t have another chance
An:
An’s Shadow?: Cause I think that we’re going to die, or, in living, put out so much fucking energy that God Himself will notice our plight
An: …what are you?
An’s Shadow?: I’m everything that you hate – everything that you loathe – I’m you.

duh.

An: Figures. Ready me? We got some work to do.
An’s Shadow?: Lets kick some ass… for puppies, and kittens, and maria, or some shit

One thought on “Ep 35, Wooden Souls Finale

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