radio414

n.u.d.e.@natural ultimate digital experiment steel battalion marc ecko's getting up: contents under pressure dead or alive xtreme beach volleyball

Nathaniel was taller, certainly worked out more than Quinn did, and was also, well, alive, but Quinn did its best to keep up all the same. It was not like they were out of shape. He had spent time with Cassiopeia wandering the outskirts of Eterna City in preparation for her journey, and besides that, back when xe was mortal, zey had been a rather active youth. All this together meant that while Quinn did fall behind, Quinn did not fall too far behind, and was there in time for Pokémon Ranger Black to introduce himself. Meeting a Pokémon Ranger was a new experience. She had not been sure what she had been expecting, having never in the past needed their services (Perhaps some had been assigned to his rescue mission? That would seem likely, though Quinn would not have known for a number of factors, including having died in the meantime). Fae still did require such services, to be fair, as ey had explained several times to both Belladonna and Nathaniel in the meantime. The experience was still exciting, however. Belladonna seemed to recognize Pokémon Ranger Black as part of an entire task force from Hoenn, which meant they were dealing with Pokémon Ranger royalty! Unfortunately, just as soon as Quinn had formed such a thought, Pokémon Ranger Black was chased away by another, more mundane member of the occupation. Quinn could not help but wonder if this second ranger was simply a hanger-on, trying to improve their credibility by association. Did Rangers not follow the same all-encompassing “dibs” rule? It did not matter. “I do not actually need help,” Quinn said. “I am only following my companions at the moment, though I would like to visit a Pokémon Center when convenient. Cassiopeia here has been through a lot already, and we would not want her to faint on the first grand step of our adventure would we? “And let me assure you, I am not injured! It is true I was attacked, but look!” Quinn lifted his shirt, showing just where Normandie had rammed herself into his stomach. Cassiopeia jerked in Quinn’s other and, and Quinn’s voice grew quiet. “...Oh, that is quite the bruise.” It had developed quickly, all blotchy in places, and its several different colors stood out all the more on such fair skin. Quinn reached out and touched the impact site and immediately regretted that decision, pulling back her hand and sucking through hir teeth. “Perhaps Dark types being super-effective against Ghosts is a truer maxim than we thought…”

I'll Autumn for them for sure

Again, Chris had to get out of the way of someone charging to his aid. At least Lana wasn’t running in point-first like Ziun did (it would be pretty hard to do so with an axe, he reckoned), and he was sure neither Ziun nor Lana wanted to hurt him (right?), but accidents happened. “Thanks,” he said, “say something next time, though, so I don’t get an arm chopped off. You’re getting better with that axe -- want to stay out of the way of that.” Despite his grievance, Chris found himself in a small break in the action, with enough time to recoup and adjust his grip on his sword as he took in the surroundings again. Ziun was facing away from him into the fog, his stance like there was some other enemy that Chris couldn’t see. After some brief acknowledgments, Lana moved away too, looking not like she was about to attack, but just playing defense, getting between whatever it was and Ziun with her axe brandished, at the ready for whatever came. Chris might have gone over to help her too, but on their other flank with him and Estellise was a big, more visible (to him) problem. The creature that had introduced itself as they’d entered the dungeon floor was back. Chris nearly pointed at it with his sword again, but Estellise was already looking right at it. He actually sheathed his sword as he formulated a plan. This was something they probably had to fight at a distance, something Estellise was better suited for than he was, but he wasn’t without options. How many daggers could a whatever-this-thing-was possibly take, anyway? Speaking of, “Estellise, do you know what this thing is?” Not that Chris needed to wait for an answer. He pulled out his first dagger and lobbed it at the thing’s head.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” -Philippians 2:3-4 (NIV) Melissa wasn’t entirely sure what Fiona meant by there being more Fiona could teach her, but the game was quickly underway, so she was able to distract herself from overthinking that particular problem. “Uh, draw for turn,” she said. Of course, she was still trying to figure out the rules for this version of dueling, but she was getting there. “Well, first I’ll play this spell Terrors in the Hidden City, which is a Continuous Spell with three different effects -- one for my face-down monsters, one for monsters that are flipped up, and one when it's sent to the Graveyard. I can't attack this turn so I'll set a Monster, which, um, because of the first effect Hidden City, can't be targeted by any of your effects, and then I’ll set one more card face-down too.” Fiona eyed Melissa’s board. “Oh, what a scary card, I wonder how I'll get over that…” She drew her card and smiled. “Well, I guess first thing’s first. I flip this Monster into Attack mode.” The monster took the form of an ant but with a cartoon bomb instead of an abdomen. Melissa had to read the card to actually remember its name: Self-Destruct Ant. She managed just in time before the bomb exploded in her face. “When it comes out, we each take one thousand damage. Sure I get a bit hurt but that's the price you pay I suppose.” The exploding ant had reformed itself already and was now looking menacingly between Melissa’s face-down monster and Fen’s Inmato. But Fiona wasn’t finished. “I’ll also play this nice bunch: Goblin Attack Force!” Melissa knew that one. Even when starting at eight thousand Life Points, she remembered it being a menace of the schoolyard before archetypes became too synergistic for it to keep up. With only four thousand, well, that just meant it was twice as bad, didn’t it? “First I will have my Ant destroy that, uh, tomato!” Fiona said. The ant surged forward, though notably it didn't go into Fen’s field like their duel in the park, and chomped the air. Fen looked at her face-down card, then back at her hand, then at her face-down again. “I, uh, I activate Reinforcements, to, well, reinforce my Inmato’s attack by five hundred.” Fiona’s smile didn’t even waver, even as the image of the and shattered and she placed it in her Graveyard. “Ah well, my Ant is destroyed, but you still take a thousand damage for it thanks to its effect,” she said. “Your tomato’s not strong enough for my Goblins, though, so why don’t you take this one?” That was where Melissa stepped in. “That’s a bit too much. I can respond here,” she said. “My face-down is Sol and Luna, which means my monster and your goblin are going to swap positions, basically. So yours goes to face-down Defense position and mine gets flipped face-up. My monster is Magician of Faith, which will allow me to get the Sol and Luna I just spent back to my hand. Also, uh, this is the second effect of my Hidden City card. Because Magician of Faith was flipped face-up, it gets an extra fifteen hundred Attack and Defense. I guess you could target it now, though, if you wanted.” For a split second, Melissa felt Fiona glaring at her, though Melissa didn’t dare look up to see what her face was actually like. “Oh, what scary cards,” Fiona said again, as if a Magician of Faith could ever be scary. “I suppose set this card then and end my turn.” Melissa looked over to her group leader and current duel partner, “Alright, then it’s your turn, Fen,” she said. “Remember, we know what that face-down is, but I can only try to guess at the other ones.” OOC

“I’m not opening a random ass-fridge in a camper van,” Brian said, “even if it is technically from my boss. Especially if it’s from my boss, actually. Not that Taco Bell is much better, but at least I can imagine some minimum-wage schmuck making a chalupa or whatever.” He looked Shiki up and down. “I can’t imagine you making food. Do you even eat?” He sighed. “I’m just tired. It’s, like, four in the morning. I just want to collapse into bed and get any amount of sleep before tomorrow comes and I have to do all this shit I keep putting off. I’ve got library books I have to place an application for, groceries to shop for, and, to top it all off, I have leg day tomorrow, and we all know how bad it is to skip those. I can drive, you can drive, fucking Carmen can drive if she wants, but fuck, let me go home, okay?” Shiki said something about him and Carmen forging a bond. What, was Shiki shipping them or something? What a terrible idea. You don’t have relationships with coworkers. Everybody knew that. The relationship inevitably fizzled, leaving an awkward tension that got in the way of everything. He’d seen it happen. Even the smartest of the smarties in academia who thought it might work for them fell prey to the same story. He looked at Carmen. “Um, no,” he said. “I’ll be fine just seeing her for work. I mean, I guess I can give you my number for convenience, Carmen, but the best I can offer is being a gym buddy or something. No offense, of course.”

Mark on You Spotlight hated Goodale Park. Now, he didn’t know a cape who liked it, but in his very biased opinion, fliers had it worst of all. Flight offered a freedom that few other powers could give. To be truly anywhere, a whole extra dimension with which to play, it changed the way your brain worked. Even in the middle of the park, where everybody was consigned to boring, two-d movement, he could tell who among the passers-by was yearning to leap from the ground and never touch it again. It was how they walked, of course, that was the big giveaway, the pure physical motion of someone who suddenly had to treat gravity with a little more respect, but there was also just a general disposition. It was claustrophobia was what it was. He adjusted his arm in its sling. If not for that, he could have been off scouting or holding down the park from aerial photography or something. They could have been any-fucking-where else in the city. But no, this was something Cassandra had asked of him. It had to heal naturally. “Just for a week or two,” they had said, “so people can find you afterward.” Maybe Cass could have let up a bit? He had already given a statement. It had been filtered through G3’s marketing machine and smoothed out into nothing, but it was a statement nonetheless. And yet, here he was, running little errands and doing his best. Director Sekelsky had grounded him for even associating with Cassandra in the first place. He should be flying, he thought. The world was going to end in less than six months. There were only so many days left that he could. “Fuck it,” Spotlight said. But before he could even put his thoughts of desertion to action, Sarah, Roy’s assistant grabbed his (good) arm. “Override is looking for you,” they said. “Override? Why?” But the only answer Spotlight got was a shrug. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The movement of her shoulders let him catch a glimpse of the necklace just hidden under her shirt. The necklace was a glass marble wrapped in wire, and it glinted in the sunlight. Sarah was one of them. She had known just as much as he did, she’d just been better at staying under the radar. She must have seen his eyes widen. “He was over by the playground a few minutes ago,” she said. “He’s probably still there.” “Thank you,” Spotlight said. “I will.” Guys on Every Corner By the time Sasha arrived at Goodale Park, the furor of the press had died down to a more manageable level. It was clear that all potential scoops had been hoovered up, and now the reporters had to actually do the job of reporting. Sasha could walk by whole crews in meetings, some typing away on a laptop or tablet, some setting up recording equipment or lining up bounce pads to more evenly light up the shot they wanted. Clotho was by the front gate, whipping a yo-yo around and pacing back and forth. “Obviously our own territory takes precedence. That’s why we had the VVolf Pack stay behind in the first place. You can take care of yourselves, and, by proxy, us.” At some point, she brushed her hair back behind her ear revealing she was wearing Bluetooth earbuds. Despite them, it didn’t take long for her to notice Sasha’s approach, and she greeted the plant villain with an exaggerated over-the-head wave. “Hey! Glad you could make it! You’re looking good,” Clotho said once she was sure Sasha would hear it. “Don’t worry, you’re not late or anything. You’re actually early for what we wanted you here for since apparently, The Peacekeepers operate on the ‘hurry up and wait’ model. I guess I don’t mind. Means we have more time for our own activities.” She held up her phone as an example and took the opportunity to take her earbuds out as well. “We do need to go in in a sec. I heard Minos and I are going to disassemble some tinker tech, but hey, before that, let’s get you talking with some more people. There are a whole lot of other Moray Clan people here and you’ll have to know all of them eventually.” She didn’t take Belladonna by the hand but beckoned her forward. There was a moment where Clotho cringed crossing the threshold into Goodale Park, but she soldiered on regardless. It wasn’t long before Clotho spotted somebody worth mentioning. “Oh! You’ve heard of Aeon, right? Immortal girl? She’s a cop right now which sucks but she’s pretty cool besides that. Hey! Thessa!” Clotho ran over to Thessa. “Hey, I know we keep just introducing you to people but this one’s pretty cool. Remember that prison break we did a little bit back? Belladonna here is the result of that. Was a pretty rad story tee bee aitch, but she’ll have to tell you about that.” Hostages Hellhound did not respond to Sibyl right away. They woke up, yes, but took in their surroundings first, silently observing the asphalt walls and floor, the lack of ceiling. They blinked a few times and held the back of their hand out in front of their face. The first words out of their mouth were, “Well, I don’t think I’m concussed.” They closed their eyes. “Damian is still alive and I don’t think Poppy was ever in danger; I didn’t bring her today.” Lastly, they patted themselves down “And you managed to strip most of my utility belt. Alright. You may consider me impressed.” They tried to sit up from their mostly-supine position and winced. “Yeah, that makes sense too,” Hellhound said as they leaned back down. Instead, they just looked up at the sky. “Alright, well, believe it or not, this isn’t my first… interview. You know what I can and can’t say, right? But I assume you're going to be asking about Caesar anyway, so let's hear the questions anyway.” OOC

Once Z. and Hector got back, it was time to distribute. This was trickier than Z. expected, though. Not everyone wanted or in fact deserved some fruit. The former category was taken up by everyone surrounding Clobber the Clobbopus and his newfound coconut-cracking abilities and the latter category, well… Jirachi was busy producing fruit of his own, so he didn’t need any fruit either. Whatever. There were still a few people/Pokémon milling about, so Z. stopped pretending to be Hector and picked one of them. Chester seemed especially aimless, having just walked up to the stream and then just back again, so Z. zeroed in on him. “Catch,” Z. tossed an apple at Chester’s head, though with a bit of underthrow, the apple landed just short of the Chespin. “Eat up,” they said. “Need all the calories you can get if we’re gonna be saving the world.” They looked past Chester to the rushing stream. “Were you trying to catch a look at your reflection in there? Water’s kind of fast for that. I tried to be a Froakie earlier and just ended up looking like a Treeko.” They frowned. “Other way around.” Why was it so hard to get that right? Hadn’t Marv always been a Froakie? “Whatever.” Chester picked up the apple from the ground and looked at it. “I was, and well, it is. Sadly, I am not too accustomed to this body yet, familiar as it may be in a general sense.” The Chespin waved his stubby arms at his side as if to convey this feeling. Then he let out a small, if not begrudging, “Thanks,” gesturing to the apple. “Sure,” Z. said. “Hey, though, hold still.” Z. did the same thing they did with Hector, pacing around their target, trying to get a good idea of exactly how they looked from every angle, and, when they were ready, did another sick backflip and came down as a copied Chespin. “There’s a better look, I hope,” they said. They imitated Chester’s stubby arm wave and pensive face. “I guess it’s more like this right now, though.” Like, Hector, Chester was suitably impressed. “That is quite the amazing skill, Z. I suppose it would make sense being a Zorua you’d be able to pull off illusions like that, just as my own head is harder than steel. And it’s a better mirror than the river, I suppose. Though, uh,” his mood shifted back to concerned as he studied the finer details of Z.’s illusion “do I really look like that?” Z. tried a few more different poses. “Close, anyway. I don’t think it's perfect perfect yet. I can feel certain things just not working right. I can’t do stuff I think that I should, but I already promised myself those were- Oh, you mean the face? Yeah, my guy. You look so fucking lost right now, I’d be surprised if you knew which way was up.” “Ugh, how mortifying.” The (real) Chespin brought a stub to his face. “I suppose I have had a lot on my mind with all the recent developments. Though!” Chester pointed skyward. “I am very much aware which way is up right now, thank you.” Z. resisted the urge to roll their eyes, if only because they couldn’t imagine Chester doing anything of the sort, and they were still mimicking him as best they could. They focused on the second of those sentences instead. “Yeah?” they said. “Which one’s more shocking to you, waking up one morning from a night of uneasy dreams and finding yourself transformed into a Pokémon, or being conscripted by a demigod to save a world you know nothing about?” Continuing their mimic, they also brought a stub to their head, jamming it right under their chin. “Or is it a secret third thing?” They needn’t have bothered with the mimicking. Chester wasn’t paying attention to the physical mockery at all. He earnestly answered the question. “I feel like I have taken to being in a new body surprisingly well actually. Jirachi’s proposition is also exciting, if not a bit daunting, especially with how little we have to go on.” His voice got low, but the next question was still clearly directed at Z. “How exactly does someone help another in a situation they’re both wildly unfamiliar with?” “Oh god, teamwork questions.” Now it was Z.’s turn to bury their head in their stumps for real this time. “You moderated me enough on the forum, so you know I'm not the person to ask for that stuff, especially when someone else is already a one-person team.” They did another sick backflip, but their memory of what Hector looked like all joined together was already fuzzy, so their impression came out the same. Z. dismissed it quickly. “Fucking… Okay. But you did ask me. I think, then, the best thing someone who's lost can do for another lost person is just be there with them. Nobody wants to be lost alone.” “Right, I should have kept in mind who I was asking,” Chester joked. “But if that’s all it takes…” He looked past Z. over to Hector. “But you would expect someone to be spearheading the rest, correct? Showing them which way to go?” Z. couldn’t help but stare. “You’re really hung up on this, huh?” they said. “I mean, you could fight him on it. Six on one doesn't seem like a fair fight but I've got a feeling in my gut that says I’ve taken worse bets. Maybe you haven’t. I dunno. But okay, just between you and me, but when I jumped into the water all the way back at the bottom of that dungeon, I absolutely wanted people to follow me, even if I didn’t say it. That sort of teamwork, if it does need a set leader at all, is a two-way street all the same. Of course, who did end up following me…” Z. left an empty space. They didn’t even want to think the name. “well, that’s what I mean about two-way streets, I guess. “Oh, but if you tell anyone I said any of that, I’ll peel your little green shell off of your little brown head and drag it through the mud.” Chester nodded along. “I see…” Then he started to laugh. “You’re more of a team player than I gave you credit for, Z. And if that’s the case, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I may not be perfect, but I always respect another’s wishes. Now,” and this is where the laughter really got going, “let us be lost together!” And they wandered back off to the rest of the group for real this time. Z. shook their head. Part of them felt like a suck-up, going right after both moderators and getting back in their good graces. It was just part of the dance, of course. Act out, lie low, accrue social capital, and spend it all. But then again, Chester and Hector weren’t moderators anymore. They were people, and like Z. had just said, they were all lost. Before they could get too lost, they noticed something still on the ground. “Hey!” they called out. “Actually take your fucking apple!” They threw it at Chester’s head again -- harder this time.Z. balanced their new badge on both of their front paws, observing it as it glinted in the sunlight. It was just the right size to fit at the base of their new Zorua neck, but there were other ramifications to consider. Would it work while they had an illusion up, or did they have to illusion up a fake badge too to use the real one? It seemed like such an easy thing to test out, but they didn’t want to get sidetracked. They were playing good right now. That would probably change once they got where they were going, of course, and they’d otherwise have to force themself to listen to everyone’s yammering, but sure they could play nice for now. They put the badge down for a moment and took a drink of water. Were they supposed to set a home point now? Was this home? They hadn’t been lying about that Hierarchy of Needs snark. As frivolous as that chart was, shelter was still the next step. Was the night sky going to be their blanket? Z. scratched behind their ear and consciously felt the Zorua fur in the way. That would help in that case. Maybe they were supposed to make a bunch of lean-tos. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. “Alright,” Z. said, finally putting the badge on. “Let’s go get lost.”

Brian rolled his eyes but he resisted the urge to make an accompanying hand gesture as Shiki continued to commune with a girl that, again, had nearly killed them. Especially when Shiki called him cold, like, that was just uncalled for. He wondered how Shiki would have done it, too, like, yeah, maybe if he knew the magic words, he wouldn’t have to physically wrestle with supernatural horrors. Whatever. But as Shiki stood up and moved to exit the graveyard, Brian felt a small pang of sympathy, and he lingered by Monika Georgiou’s tombstone for a moment before chasing after his employer. Shiki said other words, not that Brian caught all of them between his solemn reflection and Shiki’s obnoxious soft-spokenness. It sounded like he and Carmen were to be partners, though, continuing working together against the supernatural. Brian’s immediate reaction was, “Well, she better know how to drive. I’m not driving every single night,” but he managed to keep that one to himself. His next reaction, once he actually started thinking about Carmen, was “Shiki, you said it yourself. She’s terrified of everything. Why is she even here?” That one got almost all the way out of his mouth before he caught it. When it came down to it, Carmen was the one who had managed to get a seal on Monika in the first place. Brian wasn’t about to say she did all the work -- again, supernatural wrestling -- but she wasn’t just “there.” It wasn’t like he could have managed without her. And he knew that since, for a good portion of the night, he had tried! “Yeah, I guess I could work with Carmen again,” he said. “We perverts have to stick together.” “…Also, did you have any of the food we left in the fridge?” “What?” Brian said. “No, we went to Taco Bell like normal people.”

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” -Revelation 3:20 (NIV)Fiona’s phrasing intrigued Melissa. “The Lower Levels” of the city especially. Ambrosia was largely a flat plane from what she could remember. You could climb up to a rooftop or radio tower or something and see far off into the distance. The sky was an artificial cutoff, of course. One could not get too high. Downwards, into the earth, had its own conspiracies, though, ranging from the outrageous like mole people who worship something called “the deep ones,” to the mechanically unsound like secret ADMIN databases as though the supercomputer didn’t already have access to every person in Ambrosia through their use of the duel disk system. Someone had to end up in the unenviable position of explaining just why you had to call the utility commission before trying to dig up “secret Protoambrosian treasure,” and that someone was frequently Melissa herself. “Maybe next time,” she said. “I hope there is a next time,” she quickly added. Despite her best efforts, getting trapped in self-justification and awkwardness still shone through. Still, Fiona’s choice of cafe seemed like a fine one. Being clean was the biggest factor in that evaluation, as was being mostly, though not entirely, devoid of people. Melissa could already see herself nestled into a corner, shoulder pressed against a wall as she thumbed her way through a well-worn theology text. Or play Duel Monsters, as the case may have been. “Alright, well, if you want to order now or before the game is up to you,” Fiona said. “Just make sure not to get anything on my cards, okay?” Melissa nodded. “I feel like we should justify our presence here at least a little bit,” she said. “We should probably order now.” Of course, that had to come with its own set of problems. First Melissa had to decipher a brand new menu, searching for the drinks she was pretty sure they had but had to double-check, then balking at the sizes. They weren’t “Small, Medium, and Large,” as she expected, but “Smolbean, Blorbo, and Effervescent.” Worse, even a smolbean cup of coffee cost more than she expected. It wasn’t enough to make her worried about losing the duel (though she was not planning on losing!) but it was enough to give her pause. Thankfully, the waitress was very patient as Melissa hemmed and hawed her way through the ordering process. Melissa made sure to give a decent tip at the end of it all, which eased her stomach back down somewhat. Would they forget about her sooner then? Or would she become one of the ones they gossiped about for months afterward? Even worse, as she tried to collect herself afterward, she realized she had forgotten something important: “I’m sorry, could I actually get a paper receipt?” Just in case. For proof purposes. Not that she didn’t trust Fiona to keep her end of the bargain, but it would be easier with this anyway. After that, though (and another quick trip to the bathroom to, to put it mildly, “freshen up”), Melissa retrieved her drink -- quick service was another point in the cafe’s favor -- and sat down next to Fen and across from Fiona. Her deck was swiftly in her hand, her iced decaf mocha was on the floor to avoid disasters and had a lid on it besides… “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Quinn was quick to be on the defensive. “Oh, no! I am not injured. At the very least, I am not hurt in a way that would impede our journey. I am ready to continue onwards once you two have wrapped up your business here.” Really, what hurt more was how both Belladonna and Nathaniel seemed more concerned with things other than her and Cassiopeia’s moment of triumph. Well, he supposed any sort of acknowledgment from Belladonna had to be a positive one, but Nathaniel had seemed so bubbly as they had left New Point Landing, talking about how he had to catch all the Pokémon that ever existed and some that did not. If it was jealousy, that was new. Quinn had not judged Nathaniel to be the jealous type. If this was about the Rattata, that was also confusing, but in different, more vexing ways. How did neither Belladonna nor Nathaniel know? Had they never experienced just what wild Pokémon could do to each other? To a human, even? It was why people were warned away from tall grasses without a Pokémon of their own at their side. And even besides then, in environments one might think were domesticated… Quinn gripped Cassiopeia’s string and held on tight. The naïveté of the living, they supposed. And the Rattata were still alive too. When Normandie walked over and sniffed one of them, it still flinched. But then Nathaniel said congratulations, so perhaps Quinn had just been overthinking things. “I am sure you will hear several stories from me,” Quinn said. “I do love giving a good tale.” And Normandie turned around and started pawing at zir foot, so she was done with her lording over still-alive things and certainly done with the introductions that came with that. “Oh, hungry already? Alright, for being so good…” They fished out a berry and offered it to the Rattfian, who snatched it right out of her hand and started gnawing on it. Quinn used the opportunity to stroke Normandie’s head, making sure to get behind the ears where he assumed Rattfians liked pets best. Getting up close and personal with Normandie’s fur, however, got Quinn to start paying attention to its condition. “Oh, you were just in a number of fights yourself, were you not?” Quinn said, jerking back upwards. “And Cassiopeia, forgive me, I do not know what I was thinking. A single potion could not have mended all that abuse you endured on my behalf. We should go back too.” Nathaniel had already rushed off back towards town with the wild Rattata. Quinn could only give chase, bursting back through the brush calling out, “Wait for me!”

8/10 yeah sure she can have it if she wants it that badly 8/10 yeah sure they can have my time if they need it that badly honestly i'm just more confused as to why context would be necessary tbh song's fine 7/10 i still have no idea what pizza tower is besides the trans dude memes but at least it knows how to rock a mean song 8/10OP Suggestion: i watched the movie "drive" tonight and say what you will about the movie it has a banger of a soundtrack 8/10

It was the zombie that got there first, and therefore it was the zombie that met Chris’ blade once again. The chunk sound as his sword cut through rotted flesh and bone was satisfying, but Chris found himself in trouble as he realized just how deep he’d cut in. His sword was stuck on something, and the zombie was somehow still moving. Chris’ sidestep out of the way of the zombie’s counterattack -- another wild flailing of its clawed hands, trying to bring one down on his head -- was an awkward one. He wanted to hold onto his sword. He wasn’t about to lose it in the fog. But that meant he couldn’t get entirely out of the way, either, just rotate the zombie around. He ended up having to duck out of the way, which left him with a grazed shoulder. After he had just gotten it healed, too! Chris hissed through his teeth and jumped back up. Behind the zombie now was the skeleton, or what was left of it after losing its head. Chris had already complained that moving around without a head was cheating, and he was sure that differentiating between a fellow undead and a perfectly good alive person, while still cheating, was still within its capacity. He tugged at his sword again, and though it was still stuck in the zombie, all that maneuvering had finally gotten it to loosen a little bit. “Let’s see how you take it a second time,” Chris said, giving one final pull while, at the same time, raising his boot and kicking the zombie in the chest, sending it sprawling back into the skeleton. Both undead disappeared into the mist for a moment before Chris heard the sound of crunching bones. The zombie slowly reappeared in the mist, shambling back towards Chris yet again, but the skeleton had fully disappeared. Chris hoped it was for good. The zombie, though… “You just don’t know when to quit, huh?” Chris said. He brandished his sword and took a chance on another look-around as the zombie approached. He didn’t see anything near Lana or Ziun, so “Hey, go back and regroup with Estellise!” he said. “I’ll be right there, just gotta… Rah!” As the zombie got back into sword range, Chris whirled back around with a high horizontal cut that he aimed right at the zombie’s neck.

In terms of spooky things Brian had encountered that night, being in a cemetery during the witching hours didn’t even crack the top three. But that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. If he had his way in life, he’d only be in a cemetery and/or a graveyard once ever, and that would be after he was dead. Alas, he was alive and paying ill respect to the dead who he was sure he was trampling over as he stumbled through the gravestones looking for Shiki. It was only when he realized a low star in the distance was actually a lamp that he made any sort of headway at all in that direction. Thankfully, there really wasn’t anyone who even remotely looked like Shiki; he’d have recognized them anywhere, even as just a silhouette. Brian nodded when Shiki asked their question. “Ghost. Told you it was a ghost,” he said to Carmen, oblivious to the fact that he was the one who had introduced that ambiguity in the first place with his weird “demon, djinn, spirit,” ramble. He looked over Shiki’s shoulder to get a better look at the gravestone, taking it all in and adding a few more pieces to a puzzle Brian knew he’d never finish. “She didn’t have a face. I bet that’s a pretty big change from how she was while alive,” Brian said. “And she was scared of seals now, too. Imagine being weirded out over a seal. Couldn’t be me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, what do you want me to say? Shiki, the ghost tried to kill me, or at least drag me to some otherworldly dimension that two custodians had already disappeared into. It sucks that she died young, but she didn’t have to make that my problem. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for things like that when there are all these other stories about benevolent passings-on.”

Comradely Objects Fortunately, the trek to Goodale Park was a short one. The Church of the Sacred Harp was just off Second Avenue, and Goodale was three blocks south, with Goodale Street and, yes, Park Street forming the corner of its main entry gate. Even better, the route to the park from the church was entirely wide-open streets with little chance of ambush which allowed Sibyl and the heroes to keep an eye on Damian, Hellhound’s dog who had reverted to his teacup form, as he stalked behind them. Goodale was a modest little park with all the sorts of amenities one might expect of it -- a playground, picnic tables, a shelter house with restrooms, two monuments, including a bust of Lincoln Goodale, and a duck pond with a fountain. There was also a stretch of murals on an isolated wall nearby. Lincoln Goodale was some doctor who had been dead for longer than anybody could remember. Nobody could remember the reason for such a memorial, but he must have been important because Goodale Park had a special property that set it apart from everywhere else in Scarlet City: Goodale Park was a natural power nullifier. Power nullification affected different people in different ways, of course. Someone with a power that had reshaped their body to be that of a centaur would still be a centaur while galloping around Goodale Park. Wings didn’t just fly away when someone who’d had them all their life entered the airspace above the park. But flying itself might be exceedingly more difficult or a hypothetical centaur’s accuracy with a bow might become just better than that of a novice. Indeed, as the three arrived,, pushing their way past all the press that had gathered outside, then past security who was pushing all the press back and into the outer ring of streets just outside Goodale Park’s range, they could see both kinds of capes rushing around in the grass along with every other kind just past the gate. The air was full of chatter. Most of it was organizational, of course, trying to provide a direction to all the running about. “You’re a Tinker, right?” came one overheard bark. “All the Tinkers are comparing notes over by the trades monument. Oh, you’re a Thinker? Sorry, uh, I think they’re handing out ibuprofen in the shelter there.” Some chatter was what sounded like updates, though. “Spotted two known Gibbons agents flying westward,” was one call. “What did they hit? Was anyone tracking those ones?” Lachesis was the first familiar face they all saw, waiting by the main gate. She had her blindfold on, but she was dressed in a business suit and was busy applying an ice pack to her forehead. “Hey Sibyl,” she said as she walked up, clearly forcing a smile. “You’re still alive. We should have asked you to bring stronger stuff. Fucking hate this place.” She gave Override and Aeon a nod before her head turned to meet Lailah. “You’re still alive too,” she said. “That’s good. Wouldn’t want all that work to go to waste.” “What are you planning?” Lailah said. Lachesis’ smile became almost genuine. “What I’m planning right now is to rid myself of this headache.” She looked back at Sibyl. “A couple headaches, actually. No, seriously, good job. Hellhound’s a big get. Atropos is…” She pointed behind her with her free hand. “…over there running security with some of the Peacekeepers. Have her handle the interrogation. Should be outside the park right now so you don’t have to lug them around without powers.” Victor Sekelsky appeared behind her. “Who’s doing what?” Lachesis didn’t even turn around. “Heya, Vic. I already know what you’re going to say if I explain myself, so I’m just… not going to do that.” There was a long pause. Lachesis eventually looked over her shoulder. “You still there?” When he didn’t answer her, she said, “We’re on the same side right now, Vic, and you’re not my dad.” It still was a noticeable amount of time before Director Sekelsky spoke again. “I would like to talk to Archangel Lailah now,” he said. “She’s all yours.” “And I would like to talk to my team.” “Sure,” Lachesis said. She turned back to address Sibyl specifically. “Yeah, go see Atropos. She and I think Minos will know what to do with those. I’m gonna go…” She looked back at Victor again, who was still staring daggers right through her. “…get a new ice pack or something I guess. Hey, in case you didn’t hear, big meeting’s in a bit -- you’re all invited.” And she was gone, rushing off back towards Goodale Park’s shelter house. Once Sibyl had left, Director Sekelsky sighed. “Just once, I’d like to get through an S-Class without ulterior motives at play. But I’m glad to see you all in one piece still.” “It is good to see you too, my friend,” Lailah said. “If only these were better circumstances. I am sure Override has already sent you details of our encounter, but since we are on the subject of the Fates’ motives, there are things he did not see I would like to share with you.” The director raised an eyebrow, but was quick to assent. “Alright, come with me then. Override, I can only guess what Ophiuchus wants from you, but he was asking for you by name, so please go, uh, do that for me. Same deal with Stanley and you, Aeon, except I know even less. He’d be over by the gazebo, and I think Ophiuchus is over by the fountain. But also rest up if you need to. We’ve still got to hash out battle plans, but this might be the last break you’ll get until tonight. And maybe not even then.” OOC

“Fuck,” Brian said again. It seemed over. There wasn’t any noise that would indicate a paranormal threat still lurked in the bathroom, and he swung the flashlight around too just to see if the ghost was still hiding somewhere, but it wasn’t. Speaking of the flashlight, Brian noticed it was back to a steady beam of light, if a little hindered by its cheap bulb. He went over and jiggled the lightswitches too. The lights were working just fine. The last thing Brian did was find the spot where the ghost had faded away and brush the remaining ashes of the burned-up seal with his foot. Were they supposed to sweep that up? Couldn’t hurt, he decided. The paper towel dispenser was still stocked up, so Brian brushed as much as he could into one of those and tossed it in the bin. “I think we’re done,” he said. “Yeah, good job. Go seal up that last stall just in case and we’ll go tell that crabapple in the office she can stop doing her rosary and go to bed.” All in all, Brian felt pretty good about the whole thing. Sure, his life had flashed before his eyes a few times and the ghost didn’t actually answer his question, but that was the way it went with ghosts, really. If it had been a demon, maybe it would have been a bit more chatty, but Brian had enough demons of his own to deal with, he couldn’t be too upset to avoid one more. They’d dealt with it all the same. A win was a win. That was something his fraternity would always say to him. “Just take the fucking W.” Two things happened as he and Carmen made their way out of the school. The first was the aforementioned notification. Brian knocked on the door to the office and said. “Alright, you should be good. Just in case, don’t touch any of the seals for… a day or two?” He gave Carmen a look like he expected her to know how long these things were supposed to last but he kept talking. “Maybe a week just to be safe. Anyway, uh, leave us a good review on Ghost Yelp or wherever you found us. We’re getting out of your hair now. Have a good night.” The other thing that happened was they got a text from Shiki: Good work. I finished early. Come to cemetery. “Aren’t there, like, four cemeteries and another two graveyards in this town?” Brian said. “How’s Shiki expect us to guess the right one?” But his question was answered right away as he crossed the threshold out of the school and looked up from his phone, just across the street. “Oh, that one, probably. You know, I actually forgot that was there.” He looked back at Carmen and cocked his head towards the cemetery. “Alright, sooner we get this over with the sooner we can go the fuck to sleep,” he said.

“Elijah went before the people and said, ‘How long will you waver between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him.’ But the people said nothing.” -1 Kings 18:21 (NIV)The conversation still felt like a tightrope, but it was a tightrope that Melissa was used to walking, so while she could feel her breath tighten up at the fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, it was still a tightrope she had walked before. “I don’t actually think I know how two-on-one duels work,” she said. This was mostly true -- true enough to not be a lie, anyway. She’d been told how they work, but her up-to-recently lack of close friendships with anyone who would get in enough trouble to warrant one, not to mention her own aforementioned conflict avoidance meant that the need to know all of Duel Monsters’ variant rules fell by the wayside, replaced by more important things like, say, the Epistle of Jude. “I’m more than willing to learn, though,” she said. Here was the tricky part, though. Now she had to actually make a suggestion. Melissa looked around the desolate park, once again observing all the abandoned picnics and disrupted dates (the romantic kind, not the fruit) that could have been caused by the Spike Brothers but could have also been caused by something worse. “I would rather go somewhere else, if it’s all the same, then. I don’t need to see the big flashy holograms, personally. I get enough of that, from, well…” The angels weren’t really holograms, right? But it was funny to Melissa. She smirked even though she didn’t complete that thought out loud. She also felt the absence of humor coming from foreign thoughts inside her own head, like, they neither laughed along nor admonished her, but the lack of reaction was a reaction in itself. “But we should play. You came all this way out here. You invited us. It would be rude not to. “We could also turn lunch afterward into part of the game?” Melissa suggested. “Loser --” She caught herself, “or losers -- have to pay for lunch or have to put honey in their coffee or something. I’m not a big gambler but those are pretty small stakes if team pride isn’t enough.” She caught a glance of Fen and realized what she had just done. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to involve you in a bet. I can just- I can pay for lunch or drink doctored coffee. You don’t- You’re our team leader, I…” Whatever fire Melissa had had was gone, replaced by stammering. She’d made it that far, though, which she’d probably find impressive once the situation cleared itself up.