*achieve playtime

*temp wellthen false
*temp alicover 1
*temp liaison false
*temp dammitmal false
*temp seeali false
*temp jhp 1
*temp pinch false
*temp fromcontainer false
*temp teddieandkay false
*temp librabeatup false
*temp breakoff false

*if rel_teddie < 1
    *set rel_teddie 1
    
*if amlvl > 2
    *set contemprii +1
    
*if ((not (killer)) and (not (caughtfeelings_wyrd)))
    *set dammitmal true

*if ((hookup_wyrd  = 2) or (hookup_wyrd = 7))
    *set liaison true

*if ((interest_kay) or (interest_wil))
    *set wellthen true
You awaken to raised voices from next door, tense and agitated. A muggy mash of thoughts slushes through your mind, @{(hookup_wyrd > 1) Mal|Masquerade} and @{(aliclub > 1) Alistair|the stakeout} and @{killer the body on the ground.|the fracas in the parking garage.} @{librafail Libra.|}

@{librafail |$!{cg}.} @{(amlvl < 2) That... dream, no more explicable for having slept.|Returning home—here. Returning here.}

A sense of urgency finally cuts through the haze. Who's shouting? Have the Hounds tracked you down? You need to get out there, join the fight!

Scrambling from bed, you throw on a top and rush for the door, bursting from your room, membrane already beginning to ripple its way down your back.

*page_break Stop.

Wil, Kay, and Teddie are clustered around a laptop, watching the screen. Kay leans all the way in, eyes intent and shining. Teddie's the opposite, sprawling backward on the couch. Wil's somewhere in between, perched at the edge of the cushions, hunched inward just a little to bring ${whim}self slightly closer to the computer.

"Aw c'mon, reds!" Kay complains loudly, thumping her hands on her thighs. Both Wil and Teddie glance over at you, expressions quizzical.

…ah.

Your heart rate slowly resumes standard service as you stand there awkwardly, membrane receding.

Just something on the computer. Totally normal. @{(instinctive > 55) You went off even more half-cocked than normal.|Unlike you to overreact.} The stress of this assignment is eating you up.

Kay lets out a dramatic gasp. "No! He's right there! Can't you see he's—yes! C'mon! C'mon! Go go go!" She bounces in place, leaning so far forward she's risking faceplanting into the laptop. "No! Yes! Noo! Dangit!" She throws herself backward, arms flailing. Teddie nonchalantly leans aside to dodge catching an elbow.

Wil laughs. "You're adorable," ${whe} says fondly, ${whis} eyes lingering on her for a moment. @{wellthen Huh.|} She emits a wordless groan of protest. Teddie snorts.

Curiosity piqued and self-conscious about charging in like the house was on fire, you walk over to check out what they're up to.

On the screen, two teams in brightly-coloured athleticwear and masks engage in an intricate game of capture the flag, weaving in and out of a huge obstacle course that looks for all the world like an adult-scale jungle gym. As you look on, a gangly boy in a red jersey throws down a discus of ice, sending a yellow-uniformed girl slipping and sliding across the ground. As the boy rushes past, her windmiling arm flicks out, emitting a rippling pulse that trips the boy into a full-length faceplant.

@{(knowledge > 25) You|You may not be the most up on your general knowledge, but you'd have to have been living under a rock not to} know what this is. @{(knowledge > 25) |As in. For your entire life. Rather than the last five years.}
*page_break The Rising Star Games
@{dpr Even the DPR isn't dumb|The DPR isn't foolish|The DPR isn't foolish|The DPR isn't dumb} enough to throw underaged and inexperienced teenagers onto the front lines. @{(dpr = 4) No, instead they just exploit them. Get them into the system early.|}@{(dpr = 1) You can't say you like the alternative a whole lot better.|} @{(dpr = 3) On the other hand, they can't just ignore said teenagers either.|} @{(dpr = 2) On the other hand, they can't just ignore said teenagers either.|}

The Junior Heroics Program is the DPR's answer to underaged parahumans. Ostensibly, the program offers a safe environment for younger flares and genomes to learn how to safely control their powers while living amongst their peers. In reality, well, you get the spectacle unfolding on the laptop. Televised training exercises, interviews, and promotional materials. Have to build that brand early, right? It's @{dpr uncomfortable at best.|a little unsettling at times.|a little unsettling at times.|disgusting.}.

Distil the program to its purest form, and you get the Games. A full month of parahuman reality TV as the year's graduating classes compete in a variety of events to be crowned champion. There's some kind of prize, as well as a voting element that you never bothered to figure out, though you don't doubt that the bulk of the [i]actual[/i] rewards are gated behind DPR contracts.

The DPR takes great pains to emphasise that their 'heroes in the making' have no obligation to sign on as full DPR heroes once they graduate the program, but after years of grooming and instruction from the pros, what else are those kids going to do?
*choice
    #@{dpr I don't like admitting it, but the program is probably|The program is|The program is|Much as I hate to admit it, the program is probably} the best way of keeping young masks safe.
        *set jhp 1
        Powers don't come with instruction manuals. There are any number of stories about little Jimmy igniting and then setting mom's hair on fire, accidentally or no. A lot more of those kids would end up hurt or worse if not for the program. Lesser of two evils.
        
        *goto impressionablekid
    #Better they get actual education and instruction than be scooped up by a gang.
        *set jhp 2
        Which, okay, ironic coming from the supervillain. Not wrong though. There's more than a couple of groups like the Shreds out there, willing and able to recruit the vulnerable and desperate as footsoldiers, and once those hooks are in, they only sink deeper and deeper.
        
        *label impressionablekid
        It'd be so easy for an impressionable kid to get caught up in a situation like yours. Trapped and helpless.
        
    #@{dpr The program didn't exactly bolster my trust of the DPR, put it that way.|Even though I respected the DPR's efforts back in the day, I never felt fully comfortable with this side of things.|It's definitely one of the more negative aspects of the DPR.|It's exploitation, pure and simple.}
        *set jhp 3
        Fresh flares are often traumatised and afraid, which goes double when they're as young as the 'junior heroes'. Separating vulnerable kids from all of their support systems and surrounding them with authority figures and role models all hinting 'DPR' in unison… it's akin to indoctrination. Who cares that the kids are protected by 'restrictions' on the program's activities? An eighteen year old with five years of pro-DPR messaging slipped into their head will sign on the dotted line nine out of ten times.
        
    #I don't have any issues with the training, but the media circus is too much.
        *set jhp 4
        If the DPR's motives were wholly pure, they'd keep everything behind closed doors and allow the young parahumans to learn and develop in peace. Puberty's rough enough already without adding superpowers to the mix, and then the DPR goes sticking cameras in the kids' faces every five minutes. It's absurd.
        
    #Have to give the DPR credit, it's quite the pipeline.
        *set jhp 5
        @{dpr Just because it's screwed up and exploitative|It's cynical and borderline exploitative; that|It's cynical and borderline exploitative; that|Just because it's screwed up and exploitative} doesn't mean the program isn't smart. Shepherd and build the reputation of young parahumans, steer them away from misusing their powers, produce homegrown heroes who already have a following, all set to be marketed once they graduate. Oh and of course fight crime too. @{dpr Sickeningly elegant.|Elegant.|Elegant.|Sickeningly elegant.}
        
    #Man, forget the politics of it, I just hate reality TV!
        *set jhp 6
        It's all so manufactured and melodramatic, forcing storylines and character arcs where none exist. You had no interest in regular reality TV, so why would you care about the DPR's version? A thin parahuman veneer doesn't disguise that they're using all the same tropes and tricks.
        
    #I always had better things to care about than this.
        *set jhp 7
        You had a life and a job, and a sort of second job. Mask shows were a dime a dozen—dime a two dozen counting the ones with fictional masks—and something like half of all of them were DPR-operated. Frankly, there were more pressing concerns than whether some superpowered kid you didn't know was feuding with another similarly anonymous kid.
        
    #The games are mindless fun; it's all edited to hell anyway.
        *set jhp 8
        There's no way an organisation as image-conscious as the DPR is putting a live microphone in front of a seventeen year old, and it's no accident that there are somehow storylines and character arcs year on year. The cameras don't 'just happen' to be in the right place at the right time: the DPR wants an interested audience, because an interested audience will stick with their favourites when they grow up to be full time heroes. 

You rest your arms on the back of the couch, getting a slightly better view of everything. Kay finally notices your presence, swivelling around, giving a quick smile, then returning her attention to the laptop, where three reds and yellows apiece are now engaged in something of a shootout over the red team's flag. A shiny bolt of energy hits a red girl in the shoulder, and she throws up her hands in frustration as she's forced to trudge off to the sidelines. Temporarily eliminated you gather, and certainly more annoyed than injured; the competitors—as DPR press releases endlessly bring up—are permitted to use only a fraction of their full strength against opponents. Kay boos heartily, which you try very hard not to hear as a baa.

"Our Kay is a Rising Stars diehard," Wil explains.

Kay sticks her tongue out at ${whim}. "I can like things without being a diehard. I've got like fifty different problems with the games. It's just fun getting into it. And y'know, seeing powers being fun instead of shitty." She smirks mischievously. "'sides, at least I don't pretend I'm a hater then watch it anyway."

Wil laughs. "You got me. I'm a disgrace to punks everywhere." $!{whe} shrugs. "Look, I agree the games are fun, I just can't stand the commercialisation. That's why we're watching it on stream, remember?"

The conversation has the cadence of a debate well-worn, and you suspect they're retreading it mostly for your benefit.
*choice
    #What problems does Kay have?
        *set rel_kay %+ 10
        *if rel_teddie < 1
            *set rel_teddie 5
            
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 5
        
        "Fifty is a lot," you say, just a little flippantly.
        
        "Ugh, where to start?" Kay groans. "If the junior program is for safety and learning, they shouldn't treat the kids like child actors. Seeing exaggerated versions of themselves probably hella messes with the kids. It makes the general public feel like they have a right to judge and criticise the performances of, again, a bunch of kids." She scowls. "Also, they keep the kids with 'unmarketable' powers off camera. Or as like, sideline supporters at best. How much must it suck to see your only friends on TV while you have to stay cause your powers aren't pretty enough?"
        
        Your eyes run their way across her horns, her patches of wool, then to Teddie, his erratic protrusions of bone.
        
        Right.
        
        *goto teddiedumb
    #Poke Wil to elaborate on ${whis} stance.
        *set rel_wil %+ 10
        "Can't really separate the games from the showbusiness," you comment.
        
        "Here we go," mutters Teddie.
        
        Wil nods, arms crossed. "That's fair. Maybe we shouldn't watch it on principle, right?" $!{whe} taps a finger on each bicep. "Thing is, they're not going anywhere, so refusing just for the sake of it won't make a difference. You don't stop the government exploiting people by turning off the TV." $!{whe} grins. "Also, pretty sure what we've been up to lately will hurt the DPR a lot more than boycotting their show."
        
        Interesting perspective.
        
        *goto teddiedumb
    *selectable_if (not (po_teddie)) #@{po_teddie Let's be real, if anyone's drawing Teddie into the conversation, it won't be me.|Prompt Teddie for his opinion.}
        *if rel_teddie < 1
            *set rel_teddie 15
        
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 15
        *set rel_kay %+ 5
        He's been characteristically quiet.
        
        You turn to him. "How about you?" 
        
        Raised eyebrows crack his craggy countenance. He looks genuinely surprised to be addressed. @{(rel_teddie > 50) You don't miss the flicker of a smile on his face.|} 
        
        *label teddiedumb
        "Show's dumb. Conceptually," says Teddie. "Anyone can watch and see what these kids can do. Don't even have to keep up with it as it happens. They introduce a new hero in your town, you can just search 'hero X highlights' or 'hero X Rising Stars' and find everything about them."
        
        "Think you're overestimating how much homework villains do," Wil replies.
        
        "We're villains. And I would. Dion too, I bet."
        
        "Is that why you're here, Teddie?" Kay teases. "Research?"
        
        He regards her a moment. "Because watching you going bananas over this is better than any TV show."
        
        Kay splutters into indignant laughter. Teddie smirks at her.
        
    #Say nothing.
        *set expressive %- 10
        *if rel_teddie < 1
            *set rel_teddie 5
            
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 5
        With nothing to add, you keep quiet.
        
        *goto teddiedumb
    
*page_break "Morning."
A new voice, Mal's, calls across the room. "What are you miscreants up to? I was enjoying my beauty sleep." As if for emphasis, they're stretching and yawning as they emerge from their bedroom.

*if (killer)
    Eyes sweeping over the group, their genial smile goes fixed and dead as soon as they see you. @{guiltkill Quickly, you look away.|Meeting their gaze head on, you stare until they look elsewhere.}
    
*elseif ((hookup_wyrd = 7) or (hookup_wyrd = 2))
    Eyes sweeping over the group, their genial smile sparks with mischief once they see you. @{(hookup_wyrd = 2) A reel of last night's antics plays back in your head, and your cheeks warm.|Remembering the humiliation of last night, you can't meet their eyes. That... yeah. That's going into the awkward hall of fame.}
    
*elseif (hookup_wyrd > 1)
    Eyes sweeping over the group, they spare an extra dose of that genial smile specifically for you. Thinking of last night, you expect, even if you @{(hookup_wyrd = 3) stopped at cuddling.|didn't go too far.}
    
*else
    Eyes sweeping over the group, they have a genial smile for everyone. @{fissionmailed Not letting yesterday's failure get them down, it seems.|You suppose another successful mission has them in a good mood.}

"Just watching the games," says Kay.

"Oh, it's that time of year already? Comes around fast." Mal looks distant for a moment, then strolls over. @{killer They're, you notice, giving you as wide a berth as they can.|} They peer at the laptop for a couple seconds, then straighten with a nonchalant shrug. "Yup, same as ever."
*choice
    #"You're familiar, then?"
        *if (killer)
            *label ignore
            They ignore you. @{guiltkill Swallowing a lump in your throat, you let your eyes drop.|This is getting annoying.}
            
            *goto wizened
        *else
            "Sure, I've watched my share," Mal replies. "I'm usually more interested in seeing how the trainees act on camera; the exercises aren't much different from what they'll have been doing for years."
            
            Though the program's activities are hardly obscure, Mal makes their assertion like an expert. Familiar indeed.
            
            *label maskingsus
            Masking your suspicion, you nod. Mal says nothing further, glancing the action on the laptop for a little longer before meandering off into the kitchen.
            
    #"Not a fan, I take it."
        *if (killer)
            *goto ignore
        
        *else
            "Eh," Mal responds eloquently. "Gives the trainees something to look forward to, I guess, and they've gotta learn to handle the spotlight sooner or later."
            
            You can't say you've ever heard anyone label the games as media training. Unusual way of looking at it.
            
            *goto maskingsus
    #Remain silent.
        *set expressive %- 10
        You keep to yourself.
        
        *label wizened
        "Wizened old Mal has seen it all before, huh?" Kay asks @{killer after an awkward pause.|with a grin.}
        
        "Came to lecture you about playing your shows too loud, didn't I?" Mal @{killer drawls, demeanour flipping back to normal.|drawls.} "But yeah, the games were a hot topic in my last gig. Was—" They cut themself off. "Well, shouldn't reminisce, or I really am gonna sound like an old geezer."
        
        Reminisce? About what?
        
        "We'll find a cane for you to shake at the darn kids," says Kay.
        
        Mal laughs, glances the action on the laptop a little longer, then meanders off into the kitchen.

Your eyes wander from them, and into space, glazing over as you stare at nothing. You feel as if you're watching all of this from the far side of a window, face pressed to the glass. Part of you yearns to be inside, to belong. Another reminds you that in turn, you'd need to let these people in. @{(confide > 1) You allowed yourself a little—too much—vulnerability after the Zone, but who's|Who's} to say they won't wield that trust against you? How can you know whose kindness conceals a blade?

"Darn!" Kay grumbles. You look at the screen; the yellow team just brought the flag home to score. @{killer How many of those kids could end a life, if they weren't holding back? Would it even be difficult?|}
*if (killer)
    *choice
        #The games feel trivial next to the reality.
            You think about @{(libra = 1) Watson,|the rent-a-cop,} dead in a derelict garage. On screen there's editing and commentary, close ups and instant replays. The worst those brightly-costumed kids will get is a brief timeout and the frustration of losing.
            
            No stakes. No blood pooling on the concrete. 
            
            That pageantry is supposed to prepare them for the real thing?
            
        *selectable_if (not (guiltkill)) #I'm getting restless. Kind of want to hurt someone.
            *set psycho +1
            Killing that guy was a little like… venting pressure to atmosphere. For a short while, the effort of balancing your precarious situation felt more… manageable. Like with less tension, you could think more clearly.
            
            It's not that you want to go murder someone at random, just that you wouldn't mind regaining that clarity by way of a few broken bones. @{(rangerhurt = 3) Where's Ranger when you need him?|Maybe it'll eventually stick.}
            
        #This is a good chance to get my mind off the murder.
            Stupid TV and the company of some—you don't know if you'd call them friends. @{(romance_wil > 1) Even Wil, much as the thought hurts.|} You're still tapping on that window pane, tap tap tapping away.
            
            Stupid TV and the company of… others.
            
        #It's... strange to see the others acting so normal after I killed a guy.
            Excluding Mal, this could be any group of friends enjoying each other's company. It's like last night never happened..
            
            You wonder if they're putting up a front. Or just trying not to think about it. Or have collectively decided to treat you a certain way, lest—
            
            Shaking your head sharply, you bring that train of thought to a halt. It won't go anywhere.
            
        *selectable_if (guiltkill) #Mal giving me the cold shoulder only makes me feel worse about yesterday.
            Their attitude is a tangible reminder of what you did. Not that you needed it. You're at no risk of forgetting the figure sprawled on the ground. The person you killed.
            
            Does Mal hate you, for what you've done? 
            
            You have no answer.

*else
    *choice
        #I'm still no closer to unravelling the Altruists, What is Dion's [i]goal?[/i]
            He's very interested in the Zone, same as Hypothesis. Yet without knowing the source of either man's intrigue, that tells you little about your captain nor your captor. 
            
            At some stage, it begins to feel like you possess only pieces of larger puzzle pieces. Half clues and hints of rumours of whispers. @{(defiance > 4) You don't even necessarily want to solve the mystery for the Coven's sake. It's just frustrating to be in the dark.|Hypothesis expects results, and you're nigh empty-handed.}
            
            Still, with Dion absent, your answers must wait once again.
            
        #Longing on one hand, loneliness on the other. @{(expressive > 55) Man I'm a sadsack.|A fine joke I am.} 
            You're too close. You want to be closer. You're too distant, you mustn't close in.
            
            Round and round these contradictions you go. Eventually, you'll crash.
            
        *selectable_if (dreamforget) #@{dreamforget At least there are no dreams dragging me down.|Now that there's a quiet moment, I'm dwelling on that dream.}
            *if (dreamforget)
                It's a rare glimmer of positivity in the dour soup of your mood. For once, no nightmares. Have to take what wins you can.
                
            *else
                Nothing about it made sense. You're used to spectres plaguing you. You're used to faceless whispers and eyes in the dark. Not children. Parahuman children? Their bizarre appearances could have been a piece of the dream's fey logic rather than a sign of strange abilities.
                
                You don't know. You just don't want those voices in your head again, especially not the thought-feelings of the children's shrouded guardian.
                
        #...I'm tired.
            You've been at a gallop for weeks now. Four days between the Zone and the Masquerade isn't a whole lot of recovery. The rate the Altruists are going, you must be the busiest villains in the country. Even maniacs like the Shreds take breaks between crime sprees.
            
            Would it kill Dion to ease off for a little while? He's going to run you all into the ground if he keeps this up.
            
            Honestly, a return to bed is feeling pretty tempting…
            
        *selectable_if ((not (caughtfeelings_wyrd) and (liaison))) #I keep catching my eyes following Mal. ...Oh no. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
            *set caughtfeelings_wyrd true
            *set dammitmal true
            Purely casual. No strings or feelings attached.
            
            You had one job, literally ONE job.
            
            How? How do you miss the assignment this badly?
            
            Ugh. Another disaster for the pile, you suppose.

You're still a little too rattled to be up for the return trek to your lovely container home, so how best to salve these jangling nerves?
*choice
    #Join Kay at the computer.
        *set rel_kay %+ 15
        Well, you'd [i]like[/i] to join her, but at present you're the fourth wheel—@{(expressive > 45) of like, a three-wheeled vehicle that is|that analogy may need work}—since Teddie and Wil are occupying the other spots on the couch. Unless you want to sit on the floor in the very narrow space between the laptop and Kay's legs, your current vantage is actually about as good as you'll get.
        
        @{interest_kay …No comment on cosying up so close to her.|}
        
        And so you settle in, leaning your elbows more heavily on the backrest to absorb some extra weight. Onscreen, they're conducting a fairly generic interview with one of the victorious yellow team about their 'gameplan' for the capture the flag contest. As the interviewer asks 'What would you say to your younger self entering the JHP?', Wil shakes ${whis} head. "Yeah… think that's enough DPR junk for one day. See ya." $!{whe} gets up and leaves.
        
        *if ((rel_teddie < 25) or (po_teddie))
            Teddie watches ${whim} go, then alights on you with a scowl, sharply turning his head back to the laptop. You @{(instinctive >45) flip off|roll your eyes at} the back of his head.
            
            It's a couple of minutes before Kay stretches her arms, startling to find that you're still there. "$!{aka}? I thought you left! You should have said something. We'd've made room, right Teddie?"
            
            Teddie reluctantly glances back at you, then frowns. "No."
            
            "Teddie…"
            
            "Whatever." He rises abruptly and walks off.
            
            Kay follows his egress with her head, then sighs as he exits the room entirely. "Sorry about him." She pats the vacated space next to her. "Wanna join?"         
            
        *else
            Teddie watches ${whim} go, then briefly catches your eye. "Going to my room," he announces.
            
            "Oh, okay! Later!" Kay gives him a wave, and he nods to you as he heads off.
            
            So he's… letting you hang out with her? Is that his meaning?
            
            Ugh. You don't understand him.
            
            Kay's twisted halfway around, and she smiles at you, patting the space next to her. "C'mon, sit down!"
          
        You slot in right beside her.
        *if ((punch_teddie) or (rel_teddie < 25))
            *page_break A long pause.
            *set patchup 2
            
            Eventually, Kay speaks, eyes darting toward you, then away. "So. @{punch_teddie You kind of punched him, huh?|You two don't get along."}
            
            You nod. No point denying it.
            
            She hums, extending the sound a good ten seconds. "I know he's not the friendliest guy, but I'd appreciate if you could try and patch it up with him."
            
            Withholding your snort of derision is no mean feat.
            
            "You don't have to be friends, or even like each other," Kay adds. "Just, aren't we on the same team?"
            
            *choice
                #I tell her I'll think about it.
                    "I can give it a shot. No promises," you say.
                    
                    *label kaybobs
                    She bobs her head. "Sure thing."
                    
                    *label altkaychat
                    After that, the topic of Teddie gets dropped, and you're able to at least have a fairly normal conversation slash hang out from there, though Kay's attention seems rather scattered. It's still better than keeping your own company.
                    
                    *goto chattering
                                     
                #This goes both ways.
                    "Only if he can meet me in the middle," you say.
                    
                    *goto kaybobs
                #I don't think it's repairable.
                    "I'm pretty sure the ship has sailed." @{punch_teddie You were trying to mend things when you punched him.|He clearly hates you.}
                    
                    Kay shrugs. "Might be surprised. Teddie's—he's not completely inflexible, you know?"
                    
                    You make a neutral noise. Kay smiles wryly, well aware it doesn't mean anything.
                    
                    *goto altkaychat
                #No. Fuck that guy.
                    *set patchup 3
                    *set rel_kay %- 15
                    "Sorry, Kay, but he's an asshole," you reply bluntly.
                    
                    Her face falls. "Okay."
                    
                    There's little conversation to be had beyond that point. Kay half-heartedly explains some of the events and storylines of this year's games, but her enthusiasm has waned. It isn't long before she makes an excuse, tucks her laptop under an arm, and heads elsewhere.
                    
                    *goto mopup
        
        *elseif (aro != 4)            
            *choice
                #Relax with Kay.
                    *label chatkay
                    @{(instinctive > 55) Your brain has a tendency to motor, so it takes a while for you to settle. There's never nothing|It's nice to let your brain slip into calm. Nothing} to think about.
                    
                    *label chattering
                    Kay soon begins chattering away about the games, @{(expressive > 45) while you do your best to keep up.|letting you mostly take a back seat in the conversation.} Fortunately, it's easy to bluff that they're simply not something you particularly follow, another of those technical truths you're becoming so adept at telling.
                    
                    Trailing off at the conclusion of a meandering explanation of how the scoring of a particular event has been changed and why that unfairly favours a specific subset of powers, Kay's quiet for several seconds before breathing a tiny sigh. "Think sometimes I'd prefer it just being fun and games."
                    
                    You look at her, @{(c_kay = 1) holding back on repeating your harsh reality check from last night.|taking in her expression.} Her face is more wistful than sad.
                    
                    "Then I look at all this and I'm like. Oh yeah, sure. Make it all about show business. Step on the people at the bottom even harder." Kay shakes her head. "It's not black and white. I've got reasons to be here."
                    
                    It's unclear whether she's still talking to you. As you hazard a nod, she blinks twice, then gives you a smile. "Uh, anyway."
                    
                    Kay's her usual self for the rest of your hangout, though from then on she barely mentions the action on the laptop. Eventually she even closes the lid to focus her full attention on you. She's certainly got no shortage of conversational energy, though the topic jumps around more than a little as random tangents and anecdotes occur to her. @{killer Thankfully, there's on remark on your killing.|No mask business whatsoever.} @{(c_kay = 1) Maybe she's considering the aforementioned reality check.|}
                    
                    Shauna really would have liked Kay, you think. @{(bestie = 3) The thought of your best friend sends you silent for a while, a white hot coal lodged in your throat. Though you're sure that Kay notices, she says nothing. Gratitude quenches the heat. A little.|Maybe one day you'll be able to remember her without your stomach filling with needles.}
                    
                    *page_break
                    
                    *if ((gendertalk_kay) and (not (cis)))
                        You aren't sure how you end up on the subject, but for a little while you're just talking Gender, which you both concur is generally bullshit. You compare notes on your shared experiences—some similar, some different—and soon find yourself swapping a flurry of in-jokes.
                        
                        It's not that non-cis people just automatically get along, but it's easy @{(mc_gender = "female") solidarity, especially when you're both girls.|solidarity.}
                        
                        Although you eventually just wind up thinking about Prii instead. 
                        
                        Unwinnable.
                        
                        Despite the shadow lingering around the edges, you don't let it swallow the conversation whole. Eventually, things come to a natural conclusion and Kay's taking off for parts unknown.
                        
                        You're almost a little proud of yourself for fending off the melancholy mood. Even if things were bumpy for a moment there, you're feeling lighter for having shared in Kay's company. 
                        
                    *else
                        Your mood eases as the conversation continues, gradually extricating your thoughts from Shauna. Those feelings have deep hooks in you, and simply ripping them out is all too painful.
                        
                        This is the present, you're here with Kay. She's good company, and enjoying that company doesn't invalidate anything that came before. And for once, those don't feel like empty platitudes. Somewhere, a faint smile ends up on your face, remaining until the conversation finally comes to a natural conclusion and Kay takes off for parts unknown.   
                 
                    Maybe you aren't so blocked off after all.
                        
                    *if ((not (gendertalk_kay)) and (rel_kay > 39))
                        *goto mopup
                                
                    *else
                        *goto mopup
                
                #Flirt a bit. I'm feeling brave. @{ftone [Flirt]|}
                    *set interest_kay true
                    *set flirt_kay +1
                    *set overt_kay true
                    You shift your weight, settling just a little closer to Kay than is casual.
                    
                    "Wil's right," you say after a moment.
                    
                    Kay tilts her head. "About it being DPR junk?"
                    
                    "You [i]are[/i] adorable."
                    
                    Her eyes widen briefly and she looks away, hiding a flustered laugh in her hand. "You know, $!{aka}, it's not very smooth using someone else's line to @{(romance_wil > 1) flirt. Aren't you two dating?"|flirt."}
                    
                    *if romance_wil > 1
                        *if romance_wil = 2
                            *set explainaro_kay true
                            "Sort of. Non-romantically," you explain.
                            
                            "Ohh." Kay nods. "You're aro, then?"
                            
                            @{(expressive > 55) "Bingo."|"Exactly."}
                            
                            "That's cool. Glad you have that um, figured out."
                            
                            *goto flirtkay
                        *elseif romance_wil = 3
                            "I... wouldn't say that." What are you doing? Your feelings about Wil and $!{prev_li} are already a whole mess. Are you really heaping another layer on top?
                            
                            *label huhkay
                            "Huh." To your surprise, that's her only comment on the matter.
                            
                            *goto flirtkay
                        *elseif romance_wil = 4
                            "Sure," you say with a shrug. "Can't I appreciate you anyway?"
                            
                            Kay splutters out another laugh. "That's—wow, $!{aka}. @{(expressive > 60) No stopping you, huh?"|Didn't expect this from you."}
                            
                            @{(expressive > 60) "Have to keep things interesting, right?"|"I'm full of surprises."}
                            
                        *else
                            "Not exactly," you say. Hey your feelings about Wil are already a whole mess, may as well make them even messier.
                            
                            *goto huhkay
                        
                        *label flirtkay
                        The laptop is swiftly forgotten as your conversation develops into a playfully flirtatious to and fro. You soon find that despite her initially flustered reaction, Kay's got more than a couple slick lines in her own arsenal. If you thought that you were going to have free reign to tease her, then you were sorely mistaken. You'd be impressed at her powers of recovery, bouncing back from fits of giggles to slip in an innuendo or suggestive comment, if only you weren't doing your damnedest to avoid getting flustered in turn.
                        
                        You'll take your accelerating heartbeat and flushed cheeks as lesson that Kay can dish out as good as she gets.
                        
                        Eventually, you both trail off, mutually understanding that if you keep going, things may progress further and faster than either of you are ready for.
                        
                        *if (interest_wil)
                            *if romance_wil = 2
                                *goto thisnicekay
                            
                            *set poly_kayk true
                            "You know, um…" Kay looks away, laughing nervously. @{(romance_wil > 1) "About Wil… Um. I wouldn't have said anything but then this conversation happened and now I can't help wondering. Um."|"This might be kinda weird to bring up but, uh. I don't really, I don't really know when else I'd say it?"} Another laugh, more nerves. She still isn't making eye contact. @{(romance_wil > 1) "I guess I'll just. Throw it out there. Um.|"I'm pretty sure I've seen you giving these…. looks to Wil. And um, I know Wil likes you. So, like, just to mention, um.} I'm p-pretty open to y'know, um. Poly." She jolts up like a jack from its box. "B-but anyway! It's just a—it's really not that important, and I don't even know if you or Wil or—I-I'm gonna go."   
                            
                            Kay scurries off, leaving you staring after her in bafflement.
                            
                            That, you guess, was her way of telling you that she's okay with non-exclusivity.
                            *choice
                                #If everyone involved is cool with it, then why not?
                                    Well, a lot of reasons. @{(brokenheart < 5) Your emotional damage.|} @{dating |Inexperience.} Your battered and buckled mental health. The fact you're a spy, which itself dovetails into half a dozen sub-reasons.
                                    
                                    Still, none of those reasons are disliking Wil, Kay, or the concept of a triad, upgrading the idea from 'impossible and awful' to merely 'incredibly ill-advised'.
                                    
                                    Something to let sit. For now, determining that you aren't against the idea is enough.
                                    
                                #I'm not really built for polyamory.
                                    Flirting with multiple people is different from dating multiple people. More feelings, more complications, and let's be real, you're already drowning in those.
                                    
                                    Conversations like this don't have to be serious or mean anything.
                                    
                                #That's for future $!{forename} to worry about.
                                    Good old future $!{forename}, always dealing with your worries.
                                    
                                    Now past $!{forename}, that one's a real asshole.
                                    
                            *if ((not (gendertalk_kay)) and (rel_kay > 39))
                                *gosub_scene kaygenderstuff

                                *goto afters

                            *else
                                *goto mopup
                        *else
                            *goto thisnicekay
                               
                                *label thisnicekay
                                "This was nice," Kay murmurs. "Maybe we can—um. Talk again later." She bounces to her feet, shooting you a nervous smile before heading off. As she reaches her door, she hesitates, casting a lingering look back at you, her strange eyes inscrutable.
                                
                                *goto mopup
                            
                    *else
                        @{(expressive > 55) "No, see, I just have to compare reactions," you answer, grinning.|"I may be kind of bad at flirting," you admit.}
                        
                        She laughs again. @{(expressive > 55) "You're terrible."|"Maybe a little, but it's cute."}
                         
                        *goto flirtkay
                         
        *else
            *goto chatkay
            
    #Hang with Wil.
        *set rel_wil %+ 15
        *if (romance_wil > 1)
            You catch Wil's eye, and in moments a grin is slowly spreading across ${whis} face. It's pleasantly novel, having this intuitive connection with @{dating someone again. It's been a long time since $!{prev_li}.|someone.} $!{whe} makes a vague excuse to the others, and then the two of you retreat to a private distance, ducking into ${whis} room. It's a little utilitarian, without many personal flourishes; you suppose if ${whe}'s not living here, there's not much point in adding any.
            
            *if (hookup_wyrd > 1)
                As the door clicks closed, Wil turns to you, a glint in ${whis} eye. "So, how about you and Mal?"
                
                *choice
                    #I'm not kissing and telling.
                        You shake your head.
                        
                        Wil exaggerates a pout, but then nods. "I respect that."
                        
                        *label horizontal
                        If ${whe} was any more laid back, ${whe}'d be horizontal.
                        
                        *label jealous
                        "I know I said it before, but it bears repeating; I'm not gonna turn jealous on you," Wil adds.
                        
                        What can you do but take ${whim} at ${whis} word? If ${whe}'s hiding any ill-will, ${whe}'s doing a heck of a job.
                        
                        *page_break
                        *goto romowil
                    #Give a couple of details.
                        *if (hookup_wyrd = 7)
                            Obviously, you leave out the… ${prev_li} part. That's already awkward enough without telling the person you're sort of seeing. 
                            
                            *goto bagging
                        *elseif (hookup_wyrd = 2)
                            You allude to actually hooking up. Keeping it classy, of course.
                            
                            *label bagging
                            "Look at you, bagging a catch," Wil says playfully.
                            
                            You sort of laugh, sort of choke. [i]Congratulations[/i] weren't what you were expecting.
                            
                            *goto jealous
                        *else
                            You say enough to make it clear you didn't actually go all the way.
                            
                            "Mm, well, nothing says you have to do that to get something out of it." Wil nods.
                            
                            *goto horizontal
                            
                    #Say it was nice and leave it at that.
                        Wil nods agreeably. "Cool. Glad you two could have fun."
                        
                        *goto horizontal
                
            *else
                *label romowil
                Wil's company lets you relax, even if your guard isn't truly lowered. Your guard's partway up by default at this stage. The next while drifts by lazily @{(expressive > 55) as you fill the space with directionless chatter. It doesn't have to mean anything to feel nice, and Wil's happy to go along with your flow.|and quietly. You're happy to stay mostly silent, and Wil follows your lead, speaking up only occasionally.} It's a welcome opportunity to recharge with somebody you care about.
                
                To what extent—that's hard to know. A problem to unravel another day. Or never.
                
                At length, Wil regretfully ushers you out, explaining ${whe} has a few things to do in private. Your heart's a lot lighter than it was when you entered the room.
                
                *goto mopup
            
        *else
            Wil already seems on the verge of drifting away from the laptop, and it takes only a catch of ${whis} eye and a motion of your head for ${whim} to excuse ${whim}self from the pair and stroll over to you, hands in ${whis} pockets.
            
            With limited options for privacy, you end up in Wil's room. It's a little utilitarian, without many personal flourishes; you suppose if ${whe}'s not living here, there's not much point in adding any.
            *if ((romance_wil = 1) or (aro = 4))
                *goto chatwil

            *choice
                #Chat with ${whim}.
                    *label chatwil
                    You don't know what you were expecting when you sought out Wil's company, but it definitely wasn't ${whim} turning to you as the door clicked closed and launching into a frantic infodump about one of ${whis} favourite artists releasing a new album and you absolutely [i]must[/i] listen with ${whim}—well you don't have to but ${whe}'s been bursting to talk with someone about this and if you say no ${whe}'ll be devastated and how could you live with yourself after letting ${whim} down like that?
                    
                    What can you do against such an onslaught? $!{whe}'s got the most powerful puppy dog eyes since Shauna.
                    
                    That's how you find yourself perched on the corner of Wil's bed while ${whis} phone blasts out some of the hardest metal you've ever heard, the female singer's voice sliding between ethereally floating above the instrumentation and growling from the very depths. 
                    
                    *choice
                        #I —what the fuck am I listening to?
                            The expression on your face must be telling, because Wil turns the music off, laughing.
                            
                            "Not your thing, huh? No worries."
                            
                            "Sorry…"
                            
                            $!{whe}'s still grinning. "Nah, thanks for giving it a shot."
                            
                            You nod slightly.
                            
                        #Grit my teeth and bear it.
                            This is fine.
                            
                            You uh, survive the song. Wil takes one look at your face and breaks into laughter.
                            
                        #Too loud. My head hurts.
                            Your hands creep up to your ears and you hunch over, jaw clenched.
                            
                            "Shit, sorry." Wil shuts the music off instantly. "You okay?"
                            
                            It takes a moment before you can nod.
                            
                        #It's... different!
                            Good different? Bad different? Who can say?
                            
                            It ends. One thing's for certain, you just listened to a song.
                            
                        #Hey, this is pretty good!
                            You're into it, even if you're getting at best 20% of the lyrics.
                            
                            As the song ends, Wil looks to you with an expectant grin.
                            
                            "Nice," you say. You think. Your ears are still ringing.
                            
                            "Hell yeah," Wil mouths.
                            
                        #HEADBANG.
                            You throw your whole body into rocking out. @{(mc_hairlength > 5) Your hair moves with you, adding some extra oomph to the motion.|Your hair's a little short to pull off the full effect, but it's the effort that counts.}
                            
                            Wil laughs. "Hell yeah, $!{aka}!" $!{whe} joins in, and starts roaring along with the music too.
                            
                            You're partway into the second chorus when a barrage of thuds at Wil's door makes very clear that this moshing won't be tolerated.
                            
                            "Sorry, Teddie!" Wil calls, shutting the song off. There is no response from outside, just stomping footsteps receding from earshot. Wil glances at you with a grin. "He's not a fan."
                            
                            
                    You wind up talking music for the better part of two hours. Wil's incredibly enthusiastic on the subject, albeit that first deluge of excitement has either worn off or was an exaggeration all along. $!{whe} plays occasional snippets of songs from ${whis} phone, keeping the volume to a more sensible level as ${whe} demonstrates a list of favourites that you suspect all have album covers written in cursive.
                    
                    It's not a bad way to pass the time, @{interest_wil and ${whis} energy is endearing.|especially after your recent stresses.}
                    
                    That said, you do have to carefully negotiate around your five-years-outdated musical knowledge, especially when Wil asks about your own tastes. Apparently an old favourite has released two full albums since your captivity, and it takes some deft excuses to deflect your ignorance on the topic.
                    
                    You feel unaccountably offended by that. It's such a mundane thing to have passed you by.
                    
                    The conversation eventually peters out, and Wil proceeds to apologise for talking your ear off the entire time ${whe}'s seeing you out from ${whis} room. @{interest_wil Again, endearing.|As you re-emerge into the hideout, a smile has crept onto your face.}
                    
                    *goto mopup
                #Perfect setting to flirt, right? @{ftone [Flirt]|}
                    "Been waiting for a chance to get inside your room."
                    
                    @{interest_wil Wil grins. "Yeah, I bet."|"You've—" Wil's eyes widen. "Oh! Oh, I wasn't expecting—wow, uh, okay."}
                    
                    *if (interest_wil)
                        Despite your bold opening, you tone it down after that. Don't want to make ${whim} uncomfortable. @{(brokenheart < 5) And perhaps it'll even satiate the nagging guilt at the back of your mind.|}
                        
                    *else
                        @{(instinctive > 60) No guts, no glory. ...Hopefully not literally with the guts.|Hey, you can be bold every now and then.}
                        
                    Wil's easy company, especially in a playful mood. You chat away the next couple of hours, each of you occasionally flustering the other with a suggestive comment. @{(expressive > 60) In the hypothetical that someone was keeping score—not that you'd do something like that obviously—you'd say that you come out on top by a margin of two flusters. Depending on how one counts a self-fluster.|Okay, well, it's mostly Wil flustering you. $!{whe}'s clearly got the upper hand with flirting, though you have your moments.} It's a nice way to spend some time. Definitely lower pressure than, oh, ninety percent of what you've been up to lately.
                    
                    At a lull in the conversation, Wil lets out a long, relaxed sigh. "Damn you're cute."
                    
                    *set flirt_wil + 1
                    *set overt_wil true
                    *set interest_wil true
                    *choice
                        #"Look who's talking."
                            Wil grins. "Flipping it around is cheating."
                            
                            Darn it, ${whe} got you.
                            
                        #"Nah..."
                            "Take the compliment. The goth council demands it."
                            
                            You have to hide a smile.
                            
                        #"I know."
                            Wil laughs. "And good self-esteem too."
                            
                            You close your eyes and frame your face in your hands, presenting yourself like a painting.
                            
                        #"Respectable taste."
                            Wil laughs. "There's nothing respectable about either of us."
                            
                            Okay fair.
                            
                        #"Questionable taste."
                            "Says who? The taste cops?"
                            
                            Despite yourself, that pulls a smile out of you.
                            
                        #Don't say anything.
                            Wil doesn't seem that put out when you remain silent.
                            
                            Maybe the comment was more for ${whis} benefit than yours?
                            
                        #Fumble a response.
                            "Well uh, so are—I mean, that's what you—um."
                            
                            Wil laughs in delight. You find yourself fascinated with your hands. Yes, very important to inspect them.
                            
                            @{(expressive > 60) You amend your mental scoreboard.|Looks like ${whe} got you yet again.}
                            
                            
                    At length, you bid Wil goodbye and leave ${whim} to ${whis} privacy. You've spent worse mornings.
                    
                    *goto mopup
                           
            
    *selectable_if (not (po_teddie)) #@{po_teddie Well Teddie sure doesn't like me enough to chat.|Try drawing Teddie into a conversation.}
        *if rel_teddie < 0
            *set rel_teddie 15
            
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 15
        
        You have to approach this carefully, of course. Don't want to spook the guy off or make him think you have an ulterior motive. Slow and steady.
        
        …Now you're thinking about a bone-studded rabbit and you can't decide whether it's adorable, badass, or just kind of horrifying.
        
        Okay, you're overcomplicating things. He's not [i]that[/i] antisocial. Call it 70%.
        
        You don't actually have to wait your turn that long. Wil soon drifts away, then Kay loses connection to the stream. With a string of muttered curses while attempting to get the feed back, Kay eventually throws in the towel and announces she's leaving for snacks. Teddie requests spicy chips. You request…
        
        *choice
            #Spicy chips.
                "Copycat," says Kay.
                
                *label laughsatherself
                She departs, giggling at her own joke.
            #Jerky.
                "Aw, I think I'm pretty nice," says Kay.
                
                *goto laughsatherself
            #Fruit.
                "Well I am but you shouldn't say it," Kay replies.
                
                *goto laughsatherself
            #A surprise.
                "Oh, you'll get one," Kay cackles.
                
                "You'll regret that," Teddie observes as she leaves.
                
                "That's part of the fun."
                
            #Nothing.
                …She's asking Teddie, not you.
                
                The pair of you watch her head out.
                
        Then it's just you and Teddie. You rotate around to the other side of the couches and take a seat opposite him.
        
        He regards you in silence.
        
        "You're weird," he says eventually.

        *if expressive > 54
            "Bad weird or good weird?"
            
            "Neither. Just weird."
            
            "Neutral weird. Neird."
            
            Teddie snuffs a laugh in his arm. "That's so stupid."
            
            "You laughed though."
            
            "Because it was stupid."
            
            *goto takehimin
        *elseif expressive > 45
            "Aren't we all?"
            
            *label thinted
            A thin smile. "Mm."
            
            *label takehimin
            You take him in for a moment. What makes someone like Teddie tick? He's more rough edges than not, both literally and metaphorically. He's not telling you to get lost though, nor getting up and leaving. So… he must not mind your company.
            
            *goto teddierouting

        *else
            "So I'm told."
            
            *goto thinted
          
        *label teddierouting
        *if ((romance_teddie = 1) or (aro = 4))
            *page_break
            *goto chatteddie
        
        *elseif ((sexualitytalk_teddie) and (not (compatible_teddie)))
            *page_break
            *goto chatteddie
        
        *else
            *choice
                #Strike up a conversation.
                    *label chatteddie
                    And you just start talking. Inconsequential at first; has he known Wil as long as Kay? (no, significantly less). What's Alderbrook like as a hometown? (it's fine, he supposes, which is the exact kind of answer you expected). How does the safehouse compare to his apartment? (that gets a smirk: favourably).
                    
                    It's almost idly that you ask him about the loan shark, and how he got involved with all that in the first place.
                    
                    "Not me personally," he clarifies. "Me and Kay grew up poor, though. Most people we knew were the same. Are the same. Comes a point you get sick of predators taking advantage. Not their fault that they got debt trapped when that kind of business works by hiding the consequences. Not all villains wear masks."
                    
                    That's, you think, the most he's ever said to you in one go. You nod your understanding.
                    
                    "Don't get me wrong. Life fucked me over and I'm getting mine; I'm not in this to champion the downtrodden or whatever. Just needed Dion to put his money where his mouth was." He pauses, shrugging. "And I guess I wouldn't mind if we manage to help out the people that the heroes ignore."
                    
                    *if (killer)
                        Little wonder Teddie was indifferent to the murder with that attitude. @{guiltkill To an extent you're glad. A separate part of you condemns the other for daring to claim that comfort.|At least someone here grasps that you're the bad guys.}
                        
                    *else
                        *choice
                            #Well. This took a turn.
                                You're… not so enthusiastic about continuing this conversation any longer.
                                
                            #I guess I shouldn't be surprised he has selfish motives.
                                It's a good reminder of exactly who you're associating with. Not that you have a choice.
                                
                            #That's less callous than he seems to think.
                                He cares at least a little. Is it really 'got mine' if he still has others at the back of his mind?
                        
                    You wonder if Teddie will ask about your own relationship with villainy, but he just lapses into silence. He seems at ease in your company, happy enough to just exist in your general vicinity. @{(expressive > 60) It's not your favourite kind of socialising, but you don't want to pester him.|Works for you; you're not always particularly social.} 
                    
                    In any case, you feel you know him a little better now, and he didn't even get prickly. @{antagonise After your fractious first impressions, you always feel like you're waiting for your interactions with him to boil over into some kind of argument. You|Maybe you have to unlearn your assumptions of how argumentative he is. Then again, you} can't help how uneasy you get around volatile personalities.
                    
                    Eventually, you mutually drift off to your own things.
                    *goto mopup
                #Flirt with him. @{ftone [Flirt]|}
                    *if (overt_teddie)
                        *set flirt_teddie +1
                        "If I remember right, didn't I say I wanted to get to know you better?" you venture.
                        
                        Teddie goes rigid. "I—yeah. You did say something like that." He clears his throat, then forces himself to look at you. His vibrant green eyes are uncertain. "…you aren't just being friendly."
                      
                        *label flirtywithted
                        You shake your @{(expressive > 60) head. Adventurously, you wink.|head, trying a small smile on for size.} @{t_teddie Holy shit you're so stupid. Him? Seriously?|}
                        
                        He sighs. "Strange tastes, $!{aka2}." Even so, the uncertainty fades, growing thoughtful, even hopeful.
                        
                        "Apparently I'm weird," you reply.
                        
                        He snorts, though a wry smile plays across his face. "Yeah. Alright."
                        
                        You're both too guarded to drag anything out into the open, not fully. You just talk to each other. For the first time, Teddie shows a little more of himself. You… show what there is to show; what you're [i]able[/i] to show.
                        
                        *if ((liaison) or (romance_wil > 1))
                            Even with some more recent experiences, it's difficult to properly recall how this works. Teddie's a different kind of puzzle.
                            
                        *else
                            It's unfamiliar. Halting. Your emotions don't entirely remember how this works.
                        
                        He talks about growing up in Alderbrook, completely with the faintly-frustrated nostalgia that only comes with the intersection of a hometown where 'can't leave' becomes a convenient front for 'not wanting to leave'. Teddie has deep roots here, otherwise he wouldn't give enough of a damn to be a villain. And, even as he steadfastly states that he went villain to get his, someone as selfish as he claims wouldn't give a damn about his community getting predated on by loan sharks.
                        
                        At the very least, even if this doesn't go anywhere—and you can't decided if you want it to—you've learned more about Teddie, and yes, grown closer.
                        
                        In a lull in the conversation, Teddie abruptly sits up straight. "Got something to do. Good talk." It's gone in a flash, but you don't miss the soft, unguarded smile. You return it, and he gets up and leaves. @{t_teddie The instant he's out of sight, you slap a hand to your forehead. Terrific. You're mooning after the abrasive jerk. Nevermind he wasn't that abrasive just now.|}
                        
                        *goto mopup
                        
                    *else
                        *temp react 1
                        "It's nice getting some time together," you say, allowing just a little suggestion to seep into your voice. @{t_teddie What? No it's not! This guy sucks—agh! Idiot!|}
                        
                        *if (compatible_teddie)
                            *set interest_teddie true
                            *set overt_teddie true
                            *set flirt_teddie +1
                            Teddie goes rigid. His head snaps to you, vibrant green eyes wide and uncertain. "…you aren't just being friendly."

                            *goto flirtywithted
                        *else
                            *set sexualitytalk_teddie true
                            He stares at you for a long moment.

                            "I'm gay," he eventually replies.

                            …Ah.

                            *choice
                                #This is incredibly embarrassing.
                                    *set react 1
                                    Well, this was a nice conversation but you're going to go find a hole to clamber into now.

                                    You close your eyes, count to three, and then reopen them. "That's—wow. I'm. Uh. Yeah." Your cheeks are burning.

                                    Teddie shrugs, looking self-conscious. "It's not a big deal."

                                #This is absolutely hilarious.
                                    *set react 2
                                    You find yourself grinning. Even amongst supervillains there's apparently room to trip facefirst into mundane comedy.

                                    @{(expressive > 60) "Guess I'm taking my gaydar to the repair shop," you quip.|"Well. Oops."}

                                    @{(expressive > 60) Teddie snorts.|Teddie snorts. "It's fine.""}

                                #Wish I'd known that [i]before[/i] I hit on him.
                                    *set react 3
                                    "Uh…" You rub the back of your head. "Sorry."

                                    He smiles, enjoying your discomfort, the sadist. "Don't worry about it. No harm done."

                            "Thanks for telling me," you add, soft and sincere. @{react Humiliating though this may be,|While this is pretty damn funny,|While you now feel excruciatingly awkward,} coming out to you is a touching show of trust in someone he doesn't know very well.

                            "Don't make a whole thing of it," Teddie mutters. "Just wanted to clear it up."

                            You nod. Cleared up it most certainly is.

                            Thankfully, he's amenable to a change of subject.
                            *page_break
                            *goto chatteddie
                                    
    #Go talk to Mal.
        *if (killer)
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
            
        *else
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 15
            
        Extracting yourself from the conversation, you head across to the kitchen. Mal glances up @{caughtfeelings_wyrd and you immediately feel butterflies. Which you'd dearly like to immolate.|}@{killer and their eyes narrow.|}@{dammitmal |and gives you an easy nod.}
        
        "Hey," you say, completing your approach.
        
        *if (killer)
            Mal regards you for several silent seconds, then sighs heavily. "Look, $!{aka2}, being real a sec? I'm not in the mood to talk to you."
            
            @{guiltkill "If you'd just let me—" They cut you off.|"Like that, huh?" you say, hearing your voice flatten out.}
            
            @{guiltkill "$!{aka2}. It's not gonna be good for either of us. Give me a day or two."|"Like that," they answer. "Give it a few days and we'll see. No promises."}
            
            @{guiltkill You nod slowly and not so stoically as you'd like.|You start to sneer, then school your expression and nod. They aren't worth the argument}
            
            Mal barely acknowledges your departure. @{guiltkill What else did you expect?|Why are they acting like you set their damn dog on fire?}
            
            *goto mopup
        *elseif (liaison)
            "Hey there, lover," Mal purrs, their grin all cat.
            
            @{caughtfeelings_wyrd Dammit dammit dammit.|It's hard to match a smile like that, but you try.}
            
            The ensuing conversation is an endurance challenge as you try not to be flustered by Mal's onslaught of utter shamelessness about your little liaison. You don't even think that they're doing it on purpose; they're just probably the most sex-positive person you've ever spoken to.
            
            Sex-positively-all-the-details-of-last-night's-hookup—
            
            *if (hookup_wyrd = 7)
                Generously, they don't bring up you calling out $!{prev_li}'s name. You think you'd die on the spot, poisoned by guilt and embarrassment.
            
            @{caughtfeelings_wyrd Suffice it to say, by the time you peel away from your chat, your burgeoning crush is worse than ever.|By the time you peel away from your chat, you're left with the feeling of being run down by a truck. With like, a big heart-shaped hood ornament.}
            
            @{caughtfeelings_wyrd |…you don't know where you're going with this.}
            
            @{(hookup_wyrd = 7) At this rate, you'll be over your mortification... oh, somewhere in the next century.|There's a smile on your face either way.}
            
            *goto mopup
        
        *elseif (hookup_wyrd = 5)
            "Hey there," they answer. They pause an overlong moment, then lower their voice. "You doing alright? Sorry about last night."
            
            Oh great.
            
            The ensuing conversation is a bizarre game of cat and mouse as Mal does everything they can to reassure slash check up on you while you simultaneously make your best effort to avoid spilling the details, either by accident or by way of an emotional breakdown. That they mean well makes the ordeal no less exhausting.
            
            Eventually you extricate yourself, genuinely unable to determine whether you feel better.
            
            *goto mopup
            
        *else
            "$!{aka}. What's shaking?"
            
            *if ((romance_wyrd = 1) or (aro = 4))
                *goto chattingwyrd
            
            *else
                *choice
                    #Make casual conversation.
                        *label chattingwyrd
                        Leaning on the closest counter, you relax into a bizarrely ordinary chat. @{(expressive < 45) Mal wryly comments that they're honoured to get conversation from '$!{aka} the taciturn' which—okay just because it's true doesn't mean that they should say it.|Mal's easy conversation, even for someone as rusty as you are.} The topic remains firmly on anything but mask work and the Altruists; apparently Mal's into K-Pop, though you have a faint suspicion that they're stringing you along.
                        
                        Either way a little of the tension knotted up in your chest subsides. You wouldn't hate hanging out like this with them again.
                        
                        *goto mopup
                    #Flirt with them. Why not? @{ftone [Flirt]|}
                        "Oh, you know, thought I'd check out the view." You're looking straight at them.
                        
                        *if (interest_wyrd)
                            Mal laughs. "Should have guessed."
                            
                            "Am I so predictable?" you ask, pulling a sad face.
                            
                            "Nah, I'm still on my toes." They actually go on tiptoes, though it's definitely an excuse to lean in closer to you, fix you with a smirk. "View got even better."
                            
                        *else
                            Mal's eyebrows rise, and then they grin. "Is that so?"
                            
                            "Yeah." Your eyes flicker up and down. "Pretty nice." @{(expressive > 55) Was that suave? Oh man, you hope it was suave.|Your heart is racing. This is bolder than you're used to being.} 
                            
                            Mal's smile is sly. "Good taste."
                        
                        The subsequent conversation's charged, in a fun way. With the green light of your own interest, Mal's an outrageous flirt, tapdancing on the line of sincerity and saying things for the reaction. Even on your best day, you'd be outclassed, though a couple of times you catch their smile shifting from mischievous to gentle.
                        
                        @{interest_wyrd You've seen that smile before. You wouldn't mind seeing it again.|At one point they muse. "Man. Wish I'd known last night you were interested…"} 
                        
                        @{interest_wyrd |Which, well, uh. Noted.} 
                        
                        @{Interest_wyrd |If you weren't in Mal's sights before, you sure are now. Hopefully you aren't biting off more than you can chew.}
                        
                        *set interest_wyrd true
                        *set overt_wyrd true
                        *set flirt_wyrd +1
                        
                        *goto mopup

*label mopup
*page_break

*if ((not (gendertalk_kay)) and (rel_kay > 39))
    *gosub_scene kaygenderstuff
    
*else
    *goto afters

*label afters
You move outside the hideout, checking your messages. Nothing, @{librafail not that you were really expecting it.|which is less of a relief than you'd have thought.} @{(libra = 1) You haven't even done anything wrong.|}    
    
"—where you got to." The voice is faint, drifting around the side of the house. Mal.

…Whatever your feelings on your task—your real task—you can't out and out ignore it. You start heading in the direction you heard @{(rel_wyrd > 60) them, fending off a faint twinge of guilt.|them.}

There's a narrow, gated corridor serving as a side entrance into the backyard via a second gate. As an indistinct voice replies to Mal, you carefully sidle along the wall, keeping low in the tight confines. The house gives way to a wooden fence and you crouch further, concealed behind the greenery. Squinting through the bushes, you can make out the vague form of a person, hands in their pockets.

"Yeah yeah, I know. It's your thinking time," says Mal. "But we need to talk."

A terse sigh. "Fine. What is it?" Dion.

Sure enough, the targets are talking. Privately.
*choice
    #Slink away before I get caught.
        This conversation could be about anything and nothing, and your position is far too exposed. Biting your lip, you scuttle back out of your spying spot. 
        
        Losing out on an opportunity sucks, but not as much as getting caught.
        
        Though, getting caught is probably on the same level as the consequences of neglecting your responsibilities to the Coven. Damned if you do…
        *page_break
        *goto juicecheck
    #Eavesdrop.
        *set archqualms 1
        *set archinfo +1
        Opportunities to learn about these two have been few and far between. When a chance is served on a silver platter, you can't afford to ignore it.
        
        You shift your weight a little, trying to find the best position to see and not be seen.
        
        "I was thinking about $!{aka2}."
        
        Ah.
        
        "Again?"
        
        Double ah.
        
        "Well, do you trust ${mc_him}?"

        "No."

        "Lemme rephrase… do you distrust ${mc_him} any more than you distrust anyone else?"

        *if ((killer) and (rangerhurt = 3))
            "$!{aka2}'s violent streak concerns me, yes."
            
            *goto goodtoknow
        *elseif ((killer) and (patrolhelp))
            "$!{aka2} is helping out heroes one moment and murdering bystanders the next. That's dangerously unpredictable, @{accidentkill whether ${mc_he} meant it or not."|bordering on a liability."}
            
            *goto goodtoknow
        *elseif (killer)
            "Having a murderer on the team concerns me, yes."
            
            *label goodtoknow
            "Oh, good to know that matters to you."
            
            *goto whatabout
        *elseif doubt_architect = 0
            "I distrust ${mc_him} [i]less[/i] than I distrust anyone except you."
            
            Mal laughs. It's soft, not entirely humour. @{(doubt_wyrd > 15) "Yeah I'm not so convinced, but good for you."|"What else is new, huh?"}
             
        *elseif (doubt_architect < 20)
            "I have some doubts. Same as anyone except you."
            
            "I'm not flawless, you know."
                 
        *else
            "Yes. Significantly."
            
            @{(doubt_wyrd > 15) "Yeah, I've not totally convinced."|"For real? Guess you're seeing something I don't."}
            
            *goto whatabout
        
        *if (hookup_wyrd > 1)    
            "Mallory, what is this really about? If you were that concerned about $!{aka2}, you wouldn't have hooked up with ${mc_him}."
            
            @{liaison "Hey, don't bring my sex life into this."|"Didn't actually hook up, for the record."}
            
            @{liaison "Answer my question then."|"Stop deflecting."}
            
        *else
            *label whatabout
            "Mallory, what is this really about?"
        
        A sigh. "Don't you think it's going too far?"
        
        "Mallory…"
        
        "I'm serious, D'. Think about what you're dragging those kids into."
        
        "We can't have it both ways."
        
        Mal turns around, raising their hands in exasperation.
            
        *if subterfuge < 25
            *set bustedmal true
            *set doubt_wyrd + 15
            *set doubt_architect + 15
            You startle, and they look straight at you.
            
            But they don't react. They don't call out. They shake their head and turn back.
            
            They didn't see you.
            
            Heart yammering, you scurry away. You're not sticking around after that. Absolutely not. You're taking what you got and getting out of dodge.
            
            *page_break
            Once you've calmed down, you can take a moment to consider what you overheard.
            
            *goto considerlearns
        *else
            You're still as the grave. They shake their head and turn back.
            
            *choice
                #One near miss is enough, I'm outta here.
                    You've learned a lot from this already. Get greedy and get caught. Almost in slow motion, you creep away.
                    
                    *label considerlearns
                    Mal's worried that they're going too far. @{killer And you don't think they meant your actions yesterday. They|They} have concerns about what they're getting 'those kids' into; that's probably Kay and Teddie, right? They're the youngest of the Altruists. 
                    
                    It's an odd qualm. A mismatched qualm. If the goal's to expose the DPR, no matter the cost, they shouldn't care about the morals of dirtying others' hands.
                    
                    Something to keep in mind, a discrepancy to scratch away at.
                    *page_break
                    *goto juicecheck
                #I'm so close to getting something important, I can taste it.
                    *set archother 1
                    *set archinfo +1
                    They're talking agenda. They're talking [i]why.[/i] How can you step away?
                    
                    "It's not 'having it both ways', D'," says Mal. "Tell me this is worth it. Tell me none of this bothers you."
                    
                    A long pause. When Dion speaks again, his voice trembles with suppressed anger. "You don't get to ask that."
                    
                    Mal laughs mirthlessly. "Pretty sure I'm exactly who gets to ask that. You're my best friend, D'. It's my job to look out for you."
                    
                    "…Clearly you have something to say."
                    
                    "Let's say she's alive."
                    
                    "She [i]is[/i] alive."
                    
                    "Then this is totally relevant, huh?" Mal swings their arms, heaving a huge breath. "Say she's alive. Ever figured that maybe she doesn't wanna be found, man?"
                    
                    For several long seconds, nothing.
                    
                    Then, in a tone cold as midwinter: "Thank you for your input."
                    
                    "D'…"
                    
                    "We're done talking."
                    
                    "Sure. Whatever. Be like that."
                    
                    *if (subterfuge > 44)
                        Sensing you're about to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, you creep away as quickly as you dare.
                        
                        *label intheclear
                        *page_break
                        Now in the clear, you can take a moment to consider what you overheard.
                        
                        This isn't about the DPR at all. Dion and Mallory are in Alderbrook to find a specific person.
                        
                        Even if you don't know who or why, you've taken a huge step in uncovering the true agenda.
                        
                        As to what you're going to do with this information, well… that's your decision.
                        *page_break
                        *goto juicecheck
                    *else
                        *set doubt_wyrd +20
                        *set doubt_architect + 20
                        *set bustedmal true
                        
                        You realise you should be making yourself scarce at the same moment Mal swings around again and looks straight at you.
                        
                        And looks.
                        
                        And… doesn't react.
                        
                        Finally they shake their head and turn back to Dion.
                        
                        They didn't spot you. Holy shit you're lucky.
                        
                        Having well and truly pushed good fortune to its limit, you make yourself scarce, letting out the shuddering breath you hadn't dared to exhale.
                        
                        *goto intheclear

*comment RE how violent/help explained, 4: attention grab (true)/warned against killing (ranger unhurt), 5: attention grab (lie)/warned against killing (ranger hurt), 6: distraction (true)/aren't we altruists?, 7: distraction (lie)/moral code


*label juicecheck
*if juice > 10
    *set juice - 10
    
*else
    *set juice 0
    
*if juice < 11
    *set nojuicemid true
    *set fromcontainer true
    Putting your hand on the front door to go back inside, you're hit by a sudden surge of vertigo, the ground spiralling away from your eyes. You fall heavily against the door, nearly going down entirely.
    
    Whew. Okay. Maybe a little too much excitement—
    
    There's a gnawing pain in your stomach. Your mouth is dry and cracking. The pounding of your heart sets your skull to throb, throb, throb.
    
    Fuck. [i]Fuck.[/i] How long since you dosed? You're hitting withdrawal. You need Juice. Your powers—that thing inside you—need Juice.
    
    *if vials = 1
        Already, you can feel phantom teeth tearing at your insides. It won't be long before your memory becomes real and you're being eaten alive and screaming and—
        
        @{(instinctive > 45) You slap yourself in the face. The sting of impact snaps you back to reality. If you lose your shit, it'll only get worse.|You press your head to the door and take a deep breath. Stop panicking. This is solvable.} There's a vial at the container, you just have to get there.
        
        Rattling a flimsy excuse to the team via text, you set off.
        
        It's a painful trip back, and not in the figurative sense. With every step, the gnawing sensation grows stronger and more present, dragging your mind back to the torture of the lab, Hypothesis observing as your body consumed itself from within.
        
        One foot in front of the other. It's all you can do.
        
        *page_break
        
        Eventually, the familiar surroundings of Wesson Parks coalesce around you. You don't consciously remember arriving here.

        Stumbling the remaining distance to your derelict abode, you enter the building. It takes you three attempts to unlock the container and stagger inside. You nearly forget to haul the door shut behind you.

        Scrabbling at the floor, you desperately punch in the code for your vial, forcing yourself to slow down and avoid mistakes. As the box hisses open you snatch the vial out, pop the lid, and

        [b]drain[/b]

        [b]it[/b]

        [b]dry[/b]

        The jaws at your throat, in your throat, gnashing within your body; all hesitate.

        Then recede.

        Merciful relief.

        You collapse backward onto the container floor, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
        *page_break
        *set juice 100
        *set vials 0
        *set dependence + 2
        *set juiceless false
        *set remotemembrane 1
        *set vantagebeating 1
        *if ((getspiked = 3) or (surpass_stomach > 1))
            *set injurydesc 9
            *set mc_health 2
            
        *goto messages
        
    *else
        And you destroyed your only vial.
        
        A hollow laugh bubbles up. This is what your defiance gets you.
        
        No choice in the matter, you need $!{cg}'s help.
        
        *if libra = 1
            Good thing you avoided fighting her yesterday.
            
        *elseif (librafail)
            Hopefully she'll hear you out.
            
        *elseif ((libra = 2) or (libra = 3))
            You were hoping to hold onto this favour a little longer.
            
            *goto howdoyou
            
        *else
            Which, after yesterday, she'll [i]definitely[/i] be delighted to provide, right?
            
            Haha…ha you're screwed.
            
            
        Shaking fingers type out a text to your handler.
        
        [i] [i]need help. out of drinks.[/i]
    
        Is that vague enough? You'd best hope so.

        A couple of agonising minutes later, a reply.
        
        *if libra = 1
            *label howdoyou
            [i]how do you run out this fast? ever heard of pacing yourself?[/i]
            
            @{(libra = 1) [i]fine.|[[i]but you helped me out, so fine.} I can't get over there. I'll send someone. you come meet me after.[/i]
            
            *label notrequest
            [i]and that's not a request.[/i]
            
        *elseif libra = 5
            [i]racking up favours real fast here, $!{aka}[/i]
            
            [i]whatever. I'll send someone in my place. you come meet me after.[/i]
            
            *goto notrequest
      
        *else
            [i]seriously?[/i]
            
            [i]seriously??[/i]
            
            [i]fine. asshole. I'll send someone, you come meet me after.[/i]
            
            [i]show up, or we'll have a problem.[/i]
            
            
        You sleepwalk your way back to Wesson Parks and your shipping container. It feels like every step, another hungry mouth awakens inside you, turning its fangs upon your body for sustenance. The container looms up out of a black haze and you all-but slam into it, opening the door on the third attempt.
        
        Within, you crash to hands and knees, the exertions all too much for your faltering body to handle. If you don't come up with a plan fast, you'll be too gripped in the throes of agony to do anything but slowly succumb to your own powers.
        
        *page_break
        *goto juicejuicejuice

*else
    *goto messages

*label juicejuicejuice
*if ((footagedestroy = false) and (inform1 > 4))
    *set halpmecg 3

*else
    *set halpmecg 2
*gosub_scene getjuicedidiot

Despite being freshly fuelled by the Juice, your legs remain unsteady, and you sit heavily on the container floor. It's a few minutes before you're able to get your feet back under yourself and stand up. As much as you'd like to sit and do nothing for the rest of the day, you owe $!{cg} a meeting. She's already sent you a location—a café across town—and well aware that you can't afford to keep her waiting, you head out as soon as physically possible.

*goto ventureforth

*label messages
@{fromcontainer You're still sprawled out on the container floor when your phone goes off, rattling against the metal.|The day's ticking into the late morning when out of the blue your phone goes off, something that still hasn't stopped catching you by surprise.}

@{fromcontainer Ugh. What the fuck is it now? [i]Who[/i] the fuck is it now?|With a frown, you step outside.} The list of people with this number could fit on a post-it. And most of its occupants are back in the safehouse.

*if ((confide = 8) or (aliclub = 3))
    *set alicafe 2
    @{(expressive > 65) Pasta la Vista,|Alistair,} notes caller ID.
    
    …why's he calling you?
    
    Stasis. You stare at your phone. Slowly, your thumb moves, accepting the call.
    
    Alistair's voice comes through loud and clear, breaking the spell. [i]"Hey! Thanks for picking up."[/i]
    
    "Uh, sure," you mutter, guarded. @{fromcontainer You glance at the container door, as if someone could be listening in.|You glance back to the house, confirming you're alone.}
    
    It's a long moment before he continues speaking. [i]"I know it's kinda random and short notice but I just finished up some overtime at the office and you uh, you maybe wanna grab a coffee someplace?"[/i] He sounds incredibly self-conscious. [i]"@{(aliclub = 3) Like you kinda had to take off yesterday and uh, I dunno, I guess I've been thinking about how your friend bailed on you,|"That call we had the other night's been on my mind kind of a lot,} and I was thinking you deserve to do something nice?"[/i]
    
    *choice
        #Okay, what's the catch.
            He wants something from you. Or he's figured you out. @{(aliclub = 3) You were at the Businessmen's club, despite your shitty living situation, so you must be shady.|} @{(aliclub = 2) You saw him at the club. He could have seen you there too. Started to wonder about you.|} @{(confide = 8) You reached out to him in the middle of the same night there was a huge commotion in town.|}
            
        #I don't understand.
            That's not how this works. Nobody comes to you without wanting something. Nothing comes for free.
            
        #I'm a little touched, actually.
            He's going out of his way, and not for the first time.
            
            You don't even bother trying to remember when somebody last did the same.
            
        #I'm a little touched, which is infuriating.
            Despite endless reminders to yourself of how bad an idea—Alistair in general—is, you're only ever a kind gesture from this @{(expressive > 45) stupid|foolish} warmth blooming in your chest.
            
            He might be playing you, and you're just showing him every one of your strings.
            
        #My brain bluescreens. Something... nice?
            Words fail you. 
            
            That's not—people don't—
    
    [i]"All good if it ain't your thing! Just figured I'd ask."[/i]
    
    Well?
    *choice
        #Never too late to stop being stupid. No.
            *set alicafe 3
            This highway has plenty of exits. Spaced further apart the longer you're on this road.
            
            So how about engaging your brain before you do something you'll really regret? @{fromcontainer After this debacle, are you in any condition to socialise?|}
            
            *label imbusyliar
            "Sorry, I'm busy." Short. To the point.
            
            [i]"Too bad. I knew it was a long shot."[/i] He can't fully hide his disappointment, and that's over the phone. [i]"You be easy then, later."[/i]
            
            "Bye."
            
            He drops the line. You close your eyes and rap your phone against your forehead.
            
            That was the right decision. Of course it was.
            
            *goto messages2
        #I want to trust this. I can't trust this.
            *set alicafe 3
            It's the exact same dilemma as the rest of the team, too close and too far all at once.
            
            You know you have to turn him down. It's no easier for the knowing.
            
            *goto imbusyliar
        #I need to understand him.
            *set seeali true 
            The mystery is driving you insane. Who is he? What does he want? If you walk away, you're leaving your back open to someone you never should have approached.
            
            You need to know. All there is to it.
            
            *goto soundsgood
        #Actually, you know what? I [i]do[/i] deserve to do something nice.
            @{fromcontainer You just barely avoided a nasty backlash from your starving powers.|}
            
            So yes, thank you Alistair. You [i]will[/i] take a coffee and a muffin. Or… whatever it is they serve at this café of his.
            
            *goto soundsgood
        #My mouth outruns my brain and I blurt acceptance.
            *set seeali true
            "Sure, okay."
            
            Fuck!
            
            *goto hearhissmile
        *selectable_if (interest_alistair) #I accept, but not because I have a crush on him.
            *set seeali true
            
            Sigh.
            
            Who are you kidding?
            
            *label soundsgood
            "Okay, sounds good."
            
            *label hearhissmile
            [i]"Cool!"[/i] You can hear him smiling. [i]"Lemme shootcha the spot. It's a ways from the Parks. I can come pick you up if you need a ride."[/i]
            
            Hah, that'll be an absolutely not.
            
            "I can get there."
            
            [i]"Aight. See you there! I'm paying."[/i] 
            
            And there he goes.
            
            And here you go again.
            
            Maybe something away from parahumans and mask fights will do you some good. Maybe you're just the world's biggest fool.
            
            *goto ventureforth
        *selectable_if (interest_alistair) #I accept, absolutely because I have a crush on him.
            *set seeali true
            Well.  
            
            You're honest about something, at least.
            
            *goto soundsgood
*else
    
    *label messages2
    *if ((confide = 8) or (aliclub = 3))
        *label secondbeep
        @{fromcontainer Not three seconds later,|You haven't taken three steps before} your phone goes off again. Groaning in frustration, you check it.

    $!{cg}'s messaged you.
    
    [i]we need to talk. meet here.[/i]
    
    There's a map view pinpointing a location. A café.
    
    *if ((confide = 8) or (aliclub = 3))
        Seems you're getting dragged out after all.
        
    *else
        You can't really say no.
        
    *if ((libra != 1) and (not (fissionmailed)))
        Here's that piper's due.
        
    *elseif ((libra = 8) or (libra = 10))
        …even failed resistance has its price.
           
    *elseif (libra != 1)
        What could this be about? Thanks to you, she got what she needed.
        
    *else
        Is this connected to yesterday? She shouldn't know about your involvement…
        
    [i]ok, see you there.[/i] You return the message, then get ready to leave. 

*label ventureforth
*page_break

Perhaps halfway into your journey, there's an uncanny prickle down your neck, like you're being watched.

You waver midstride, then firm your pace. If someone's on your tail, then slowing down may tip them off.

*if (contemprii > 2)
    "Paranoid much, $!{mc_name}?" says Prii. "Guess that's a guilty conscience for you."
        
    *choice
        #"Shut up."
            The words die on your lips as you slow to a halt.
            
            *label standingthereIrealise
            Standing there, you muster your nerve, and look.

            Nothing. Nobody. You're alone.
            
            Are… are you losing your mind?
            
            You heard them. Clear as day you heard them.
            
            Shaken, sick to your stomach, you force your feet back into motion.
            
            *page_break
            
            *goto quirks
        #"I'm not paranoid."
            Prii's being ridiculous. You have plenty of reason to be looking… over… your shoulder….
            
            *goto toahalt
            
        #Ignore them.
            Prii's just poking at you for… the… fun of it…

            *label toahalt
            You slow to a halt.
            
            *goto standingthereIrealise
        *selectable_if (bestie = 2) #"Yeah, yeah."
            Prii and their… teasing…
            
            *goto toahalt
        *selectable_if (rel_prii = 100) #Prii's dead.
            *bug this is inaccessible on purpose!

*else        
    Maybe it's just paranoia, but you hurry yourself up as you move on.
    
    *page_break
 

*label quirks                
The café @{seeali Alistair|$!{cg}} sent you is right on the fringes of downtown Alderbrook, accessible without being right in the thick of the rush. You presume. Not like you're intending to moonlight in business planning.

[i]Quirks[/i], reads the sign outside the building. There's a sandwich board on the sidewalk decorated in colourful chalk, fancifully swirling text declaring [i]'We all have our Quirks'.[/i]

Prii would have loved this. Shauna too. She'd have taken a photo of the board for sure. Then Beth would start tsking and rolling her eyes over Shauna's dawdling while Grant made fun—

@{(contemprii > 2) You step inside. You're trying not to think about them. Prii in particular. Not that you're succeeding.|You step inside, away from your ghosts.}

The interior is trying to be cosy, but in too big of a space to quite pull it off. There are a few too many tables, a little too close together. You suspect a full house would start to feel claustrophobic. Thankfully, then, this afternoon is a half house, giving just enough room to breathe.

Scanning the café, from its overflowing community noticeboard and handmade wall art to the charmingly mismatched furnishings and similarly quirky staff, it's @{seeali the exact kind of place you'd expect to see an Alistair, and lo and behold, there he is.|almost as far from a '$!{cg}' type of place as you can imagine.}

*if (seeali)
    *label alifirst
    *if (seeali)
        He's near the back, otherwise you expect you'd have seen him sooner. He's tapping intently on his phone, looking up as you close to within a couple of steps. He smiles, @{interest_alistair He smiles, and it's dazzling.|warm with what seems to be genuine enthusiasm.}

        "Glad you could make it!" he says, gesturing for you to take a seat. "Got something for you," he continues.

        Jeez, dude. You've barely sat down. @{(expressive > 55) "Oh, a present?" you say. "I love presents."|"…What is it?"}

        Alistair laughs. @{(expressive > 55) "It ain't nothing exciting."|"Don't gotta look at me like that! It ain't nothing crazy!"}

        @{(expressive > 55) Hm, you'll be the judge of that.|Hmph. Sure.}

        "Here." Alistair sets a canvas bag on the table. He looks at you expectantly, and you reluctantly tug the bag towards you to peer inside.
    
    *else
        *if (alicafe = 3)
            You turned him down and he [i]still[/i] shows up in the same place as you? That rockets past suspicious and straight into stalking.
            
        *elseif (aliclub = 3)
            Yet again, he shows up in the same place as you. This can't be a coincidence. There's just no way.
            
        *else
            @{aliscram This guy again.|That's... weird.} You're uneasy chalking this second encounter up to coincidence.
            
        Alderbrook's no metropolis, but it's large enough that running across each other shouldn't happen by fluke.
        
        "Seriously, this is crazy," Alistair continues, sitting opposite you without invitation. "I mean, I'm here all the time cause it's like five minutes from work, but what're you doing all the way 'cross town?"
        
        You shrug carefully. "The Parks aren't exactly a fun place to hang out."
        
        "Ain't that the truth. Listen, uh…" He sets a canvas bag on the table. @{aliscram "I know you weren't about my help before, but I felt bad not doing anything."|"I was actually gonna drop this off at your place later."}
        
        You eye the bag dubiously. When it becomes clear he's not going to budge until you look inside, you sigh, tugging it towards you.
        
    A couple boxes of cookies. Packs of jerky. Yet another sealed container of pasta. A tiny first aid kit. Hygiene products.
    
    It's a full-fledged care package.
    
    *if (alicafe = 2)
     *label reactcare
     *choice
        #I try to hide the tears suddenly filling my eyes.
            His kindness is so much more than you deserve.
            
            You've been in this pit longer than you can remember. Of course you've forgotten what an outstretched hand looks like.
            
            Twisting your head, you battle against your welling eyes, pressing your knuckles hard against them.
            
            "Sorry. Didn't mean to spring it on you," Alistair says, somewhere far off.
            
            You gather yourself enough to nod, doing your level best to wipe away the tears.
            
            *goto goodreact
        #I'm humiliated.
            Helpless. Pathetic. He's taken one look at you and decided that you can't even handle the basics.
            
            And he's right, isn't he? You barely count as a person anymore, shambling through motions you scarcely remember. Of course Alistair wants to help; you obviously can't fend for yourself.
            
            You lower your head and stare into the bag.
            
            *goto badreact
        #Decide to take the gesture at face value.
            It's pleasant to believe that a person is this abnormally kind, and for once you don't allow your cynicism to get the best of you. 
            
            In spite of everything, you're trusting him. Trusting that he means this, without ulterior motives.
            
            You knew how to trust, once.
            
            "Thank you," you say softly.
            
            "Don't mention it." He grins in delight.
            
            *goto goodreact
        #Oh fuck off.
            *set instinctive %+ 10
            You're not a fucking charity case. You don't need help, especially not from a guy who doesn't have the first idea what you're really going through. 
            
            He can take his saviour complex and shove it. If he knew the truth, he'd run screaming.
            
            *goto badreact
        #An odd mixture of gratitude and frustration floods through me.
            It's a very kind gesture. It's also pity. 
            
            He wants to help you. He views you as helpless.
            
            Your thanks sticks in your throat, blocked by an indignant refusal, blocking it in turn.
            
            *label badreact
            As you stare stonily into the bag, Alistair breaks the awkward silence. "It's fine if you don't want it. Not gonna take offence." 
            
            You nod, trying to gather your thoughts.
            
            *goto goodreact
        *if (alicafe = 2) #He's trying to lower my guard. I don't trust it.
            In which case you should neither overreact nor underreact.
            
            You nod, feigning a small smile. @{(subterfuge > 40) "I don't know what to say."|"That's very kind of you."}
            
            He grins with what appears to be sincere delight. "Don't mention it."
            
            *label goodreact
            @{seeali His eyes are so earnest it hurts. You stall, busying yourself with scanning a menu.|So, is he done? If this is a coincidence—a load-bearing if—then surely he'll be on his way soon, and if not, then he must have another move planned.}  
            
            @{seeali …Whoever made this really likes coffee puns. Tortuous ones.|You consider pointing out that he took $!{cg}'s seat.}
            
            *goto aliwrapup
        #What. Is. This. Guy's. Deal?
            Why is he so obsessed with helping you out? What have you done to earn that, to deserve that?
            
            You're not the only person in Alderbrook who could use a hand. This doesn't make any sense; what agenda can he have that makes it all fit together? You can't understand it, understand him.
            
            Nobody cares this much. They just don't. 
            
            *goto badreact
        *if ((romance_alistair > 0) and (aro != 4))
            *selectable_if (touchingokay) #I could kiss him. @{ace |Or, you know, more.} @{ftone [Flirt, passive if methodical]|}
                *set interest_alistair true
                
                *if instinctive > 55
                    *set flirt_alistair + 2
                    *set overt_alistair true
                    "You know, if you're trying to woo me with snacks, it's working," you say before you can think better of it.
                    
                    *label alibrows
                    His eyebrows rise, then he hastily busies himself polishing his glasses. @{(instinctive > 55) "Uh, good to know,"|"Uh, don't mention it,"} he tells the table.
                    
                    @{seeali You hide yourself behind a menu. Whoever made this really likes coffee puns. Tortuous ones.|Awkwardness reigns. Maybe $!{cg} can save you.}
                    
                    *goto aliwrapup
                *elseif instinctive > 45
                    *set overt_alistair true
                    "This means a lot to me," you say. "A whole lot."
                    
                    Oops. The emphasis slipped out by itself.
                    
                    *goto alibrows
                *else
                    *set flirt_alistair + 1
                    Your mouth opens, then you shut it before you're able to say anything stupid. You know, something to the effect of this meaning a lot to you, with emphasis on the 'a lot'.
                    
                    Rather pleased with your own restraint, it's only when Alistair begins to look nervous that you realise you've failed to react at [i]all.[/i]
                    
                    "Thanks," you mutter awkwardly. "It's kind of you."
                    
                    Seeming relieved, he nods.
                    
                    *goto goodreact
                
            #Oh I've got it [i]bad[/i] for him, huh? @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                *set interest_alistair true
                *set flirt_alistair +1
                You mumble something adjacent to a thank you. Good thing you can hide your expression in the bag under the pretence of checking the contents.
                
                You're not equipped to handle somebody this heartfelt and selfless. You should doubt his kindness, you really, really should. You just can't.
                
                *goto goodreact
            
    *else
        *choice
            #I... think he's sincere.
                @{(alicafe = 3) Yes, it's questionable he managed to find you even after turning him down, but surely he'd be less blatant about it if he really did have bad intentions.|There are so many better ways for him to get at you than this.} Why would he tip his hand?
                
                *goto reactcare
            #I don't trust him.
                Does he take you for an idiot? You're not going to overlook how completely improbable this is just because he's handing you a goodie bag.
                
                "What do you want from me?" you say in a low voice, flexing your hands. This could get ugly.
                
                He stares at you, looking absolutely floored. "Want from you? Nothing!" His eyes widen. "Wait, you don't think—I ain't tryna' put you in my debt, there ain't no strings. If you don't want the stuff, you don't gotta take it, you just…" He takes a deep breath. "You just look like you can use it. That's all. Promise."
                
                "…Right." 
                
                *goto aliwrapup2

*else
    *goto cgfirst
      
*label aliwrapup
*if (natural)
    "By the way, uh, I slipped in some of my hair stuff in there. It's good for hair like ours, you know?"
    
    You touch a hand to your head. @{tidy Even with your recent efforts, it's only barely passable up there. Your shower being a bucket will do that.|It's a complete disaster zone up there, snarled and matted from years of mistreatment.} "…Right," you mutter, @{seeali putting your face back in the menu.|trying to keep your face neutral.}
    
*label aliwrapup2
*if ((aliname) and (not (pseudonym)))
    *set aliventure true
    @{seeali He falls silent, though not still, fidgeting, lips moving without speaking.|You let your eyes drift across him and see visible hesitation.} He's working up to something.
    
    "…realising this is gonna sound weird no matter what, so I'ma just, ask." He casts one last sheepish glance off to the side, takes a deep breath, and speaks. "Are you $!{forename}… $!{surname}?"
    
    *choice
        #I... what?
            You stare at him, a deer frozen in the headlights. Your heart pounds, roars.
            
            How… what?
            
        #This is bad. Off the charts bad.
            How. How does he know your name. 
            
            This is a worst-case scenario beyond even your most pessimistic imaginings.
            
            Stricken, you await the axe's fall.
            
        #Try to act nonchalant.
            "What if I am?" you say, half-shrugging, heartbeat accelerating. Your casual façade drips like melting wax.
            
            He sees straight through you.
            
        #Lie lie lie.
            "$!{surname}? Nah." Your name tastes rusty on your lips.
            
            He pauses, regards you long and hard. He doesn't believe you.
            
        #Demand answers.
            "Where'd you get that name?" you snap, hackles rising, fists clenching.
            
            "Whoa—it's nothing—calm down!"
            
            You realise you're learning forward, glaring a hole through him. Ease back. Fractionally.
            
        #Prepare to bolt.
            Your eyes snap to the closest exit, muscles tensing for action. @{seeali |$!{cg} will have to sort out the rest for herself.}
            
            Alistair catches on. "Hey, hey! I ain't—I recognised your first name is all!"
            
            You hesitate. There's a pleading note in his voice. People are looking over again. If you go tearing out of here, you might gain some unwelcome attention.
            
            Even more unwelcome attention.
            
    "Aight look, I…" Another hesitation. He grimaces, sliding two fingers beneath each lens of his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "Ah man. I swear I'm not some stalker. I just—I listen to true crime an' mystery stuff, right?"
    
    This has to be a joke.
    
    Alistair won't meet your eyes. "Your name sounded familiar. So I looked into it, and—there was this one episode about these disappearances…"
    
    There's no fucking way.
    
    "Then I dug around a bit more @{feature an' I guess your hair's different,|an' I guess your eyes look different,|an' I guess you're older,|an' I guess you're older,} but…" He slides something across the table.
    
    It's a printout of a screenshotted video. A screenshot of an artist's rendition of you, as of—oh, call it five and a half years ago.
    
    $!{fullname}, proclaims the caption.
    
    @{searched Finding this for yourself was bad enough. Someone else presenting it to you is suffocating.|You're suffocating. You hadn't gone hunting for your past. Turns out it was hunting you all along.} The worst night of your life, a curiosity for the internet to pick over and digest as light entertainment.
    
    You slowly look up from the picture. Alistair looks guilty. Not guilty enough to mind his own business, apparently. 
    
    Your tongue is clumsy. It's two attempts to force the words out. "What are you trying to accomplish?" Now in flow, the words begin to flood. "What are—what are you asking me? Did you just need to know that badly if I'm some random missing person you heard about on your podcasts?" Faster and faster, more and more, overspilling your lips like blood. "Well, I hope I satiated your curiosity. Hope it was worth it. Guess you can go talk to your true crime buddies about tracking down one of the, the" — you check the screenshot — [i]"'Hexbury Five'.[/i] Maybe the next episode of that podcast will give you a fucking shoutout!"
    
    *page_break Silence stretches.
    You expect Alistair to get up and walk away. You expect him to make this into an argument, or an even bigger problem. You expect to keep scrambling for damage control of an irreparable hole in your secrecy.
    
    You don't expect him to murmur, ever so quiet. "Sorry." You don't expect him to keep going. "Thought that knowing would let me help you better. Shouldn't have got in your private business. That was wrong of me."
    
    The indignant fire choking your lungs vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Maintaining your ire is impossible when there's a dozen people more deserving of it than Alistair. His learning about a little of your past is nothing compared to the actual culprits of your past.
    *choice
        #At least he apologised.
            A sliver of consolation. He's blown your secrecy wide open, but at least he feels bad about it.
            
            It might actually be worse that he cares.
            
        #His efforts are kind of touching, if misguided.
            It's complicated. On the one hand, you don't want Alistair digging around your past. On the other, he seems genuinely well-intentioned.
            
            You're just not seeing any false pretences from him. @{(observation < 23) Though it's not like you're good at reading people.|}@{(observation > 40) And you're pretty good at reading people.|}
            
            Can you afford to give him that trust—you already know the answer. Of course you can't, of course you shouldn't.
            
        #All of that feels like it happened to a different person.
            That night was another lifetime. $!{fullname} may as well not exist. The version of ${mc_him} who walked into those tunnels certainly doesn't.
            
            Using your real name was—you don't know. A moment of control. Something for yourself, just once.
            
        #I need to tread carefully. Avoid questions.
            Suddenly, you're in a minefield. There's no safe footing and no safe answers. Anything you tell him has the potential to unravel what's left of your secrecy, and you're completely unprepared to lie about this. You don't have a cover story for 'aren't you this missing person?'
            
            It's not like you can tell him the truth.
            
        *selectable_if ((brutal > 3) or (killer)) #I might have to consider silencing him.
            *if (killer)
                @{guiltkill You recoil from the thought. You've already got blood on your hands, and now you're thinking of adding more? Of someone you know?|There's blood on your hands already. What does it matter that you know the guy?}
                
            *else
                The thought comes out of the blue, viciously sour. That's a line you haven't crossed yet, but…
                
            He's too close to the truth. He's only this close because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Aren't you tired of people dying for your mistakes?
            
            You regather your attention. You aren't acting on any of this yet. It's just, something to think about.

    "Sorry," Alistair says again. "If there's anything I can do, or like, you're in some kinda trouble—" 
    
    You cut him off; he's thinking too much, going too deep.
    *choice
        #"Sometimes people disappear for a reason."
            He stops.
            
            "Ah. Got it." There's a sad, sad look in his eyes.
            
            *label cantstand
            You can't stand it.
            
        #"This really isn't a fun topic for me, man."
            He winces.
            
            "My b. Again."
            
        #"Just drop it, alright?"
            "But—"
            
            "You might think you want to know, but you don't."
            
            His shoulders slump a little, defeated. "S'your call."
            
        #"Please don't tell anyone about me."
            *set rel_alistair %+ 10
            *set doubt_alistair +5            
            He stops and looks at you, really, really looks at you.
            
            "I won't. Promise," he says. There's a sad, sad look in his eyes.
            
            *goto cantstand
            
        #"Don't tell anyone about me." The 'or else' is implicit.
            *set rel_alistair %- 10
            *set doubt_alistair +10
            Alistair frowns. "I wasn't…" He shakes his head. "Aight, I won't."
            
            You can tell he's hurt. He doesn't keep his emotions buttoned up.
                        
        #Shake my head. I want this conversation over.
            He stops and looks at you, really, really looks at you.
            
            "Sorry," he murmurs.
        
    One more attempt to patch the damage. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
    
    Alistair @{seeali nods, then the tension is abruptly broken by a blast of ridiculously peppy pop music.|nods. His expression remains far too thoughtful for your liking.}
    
    *if seeali
        *goto shootone
    
    *else
        *goto cgreappears

*else
    *if (seeali)
        This riveting reading is interrupted by a blast of ridiculously peppy pop music. 
        
        *label shootone
        "Shoot, one sec." Alistair goes fumbling around in his pocket and pulls out his phone. "Sorry, it's my lil sis, I gotta take this." With an extremely apologetic smile, he gets up from the table and heads for a quiet corner booth, leaving you @{aliventure alone with your fear.|alone.}
        
        Though not for very long.
        
        "[i]There[/i] you are." A shockingly familiar voice has your head turning, and to your considerable surprise, $!{cg}'s walking up to your table. "I've been trying to get hold of you for nearly two hours."
        
        You're unsettled by the implication that in the absence of contact she just tracked you down anyway. You're reminded of Catalyst ambushing you out of nowhere.
        
        *goto cgfirst
    *else
        *label cgreappears
        @{aliventure $!{Cg}'s sudden return only compounds the complication.|Rather than Alistair's departure, you get $!{cg}'s return.}
        
        "Sorry about that, it was—" She stops. "…friend of yours?"
        
        *goto combinedscene
        


*label cgfirst
@{seeali Naturally, she doesn't bother checking if you're in the middle of something, sitting neatly into Alistair's vacated chair.|Indeed, you're beginning to wonder if she's even here when you finally spot her near the back of the room. Relieved, you head over; just gawking from the doorway was getting awkward.}
    
*if ((libra > 5) and (not (librafail)))
    @{seeali You try not to squirm as last night's events flash through your head.|By the time you reach her table, your relief has already dissolved.} You're about to face the music.

@{seeali "Weird seeing you in this part of town, $!{aka2}," she observes.|"$!{aka2}," $!{cg} says quietly, scribbling something in a notebook.} She's even more haggard than your last meeting. @{librafail |Unmasked meeting.}
    
*if (librafail)
    *set trust_cg -1
    @{seeali You study her carefully.|You take a seat.} "So, what's this about?"
    
    Her head snaps @{seeali around,|up,} eyes flashing with such venom you recoil. "You've got serious balls asking me that, Dime. Is it your idea of a joke?" She flashes up a hand before you can talk. "Don't answer that. I don't give a fuck."
    
    You stare. What's got into her?
    
    "You know, I'd get it if you were just trying to keep your cover, but you could have bothered talking to me first. There was room to work things out instead of screwing us both over like a dumbass."
    
    "$!{cg}!" you finally manage to get a word in edgeways.

    "What!?"
    *fake_choice
        #"If you're gonna yell at me, could you at least tell me what I did?"
        #"I have zero idea what you're saying."
        #"What the fuck are you even talking about?"     
                
    $!{cg} goes silent for several seconds. "Oh my god. You actually didn't realise it was me. You stupid motherfucker."
    
    "Uh…"
    
    She leans forward. "I'm Libra, idiot," she hisses. "We've been sparring how long? And you didn't fucking recognise me?"
    
    Oh. Ohhhh.
    
    *set cgstatus 2
    *fake_choice
        #Shit.
            *goto thatsbad
        #Fuck.
            *label thatsbad
            
            That's not good.
            
        #Oops.
            You grimace apologetically.
            
        #Try not to laugh.
            Like, that's funny, right? At least a little bit.
            
            $!{cg}'s expression suggests she wouldn't agree.
        
        #I feel cheated.
            What's the point of fighting $!{cg} without the satisfaction of knowing it? 
        
    She grinds the heels of both palms into her forehead. "Amazing. Fantastic. Guess I can tell Hypothesis not to worry about a betrayal on that last mission, turns out that our spy is just straight up dumb."

    @{cg_dislike You resist the temptation to flip her the bird.|Oof okay, harsh.}

    *goto cgcont

*elseif (libra = 1)
    *set trust_cg +2
    *set rel_cg %+ 10
    @{seeali You study her carefully,|You take a seat,} wondering what went down after your brief sighting of her yesterday.
    *choice
        #I wonder if she'll tell me she's Libra.
            *set instinctive %- 10
            "You gave me a headache yesterday," she says.
            
            "Oh yeah?"
            
            "Your team took out my contact. Now I have to start over from scratch." She's matter of fact, informing rather than blaming you.
            
        #I want to see her reaction to me figuring it out.
            *set instinctive %+ 10
            "So. Libra, huh?" you say nonchalantly.
            
            $!{cg} blinks, then narrows her eyes. "How?"
            
            You shrug. "Fit too well with your power and your side gig."
            
            "Right. Makes sense." She looks off into space for a couple of seconds before refocusing on you with a scowl. "Get that smug look off your face."
            
            "Smug? I would never."
            
            "Sure, $!{aka2}. You know you screwed me over, right? Flipping that guy wasn't easy."
            
    You sit back in your chair. "Well, it was that or we were going after you, so you're welcome."
    
    $!{cg} takes that in for a moment. "Huh." Her expression turns thoughtful. "Won't ask how you pulled that off, but thanks."
    
    *goto cgcont


@{seeali You watch her carefully, waiting for her to go on.|As you take a seat, she continues.}

*if (libra = 5)
    *set librabeatup true
    "By the way, you better be getting good intel from your team. I've still got bootprints all over my ribs."
    
    *goto littleheat
*elseif (libra < 5)
    
    *if libra = 4
        "For the record, I appreciate you not coming after me. Even if it was because... you know."
        
        Because you just murdered someone. You stare at the table.

    *else
        "I appreciate what you did back there. The intel I got really helps us."
        
        "Yeah?" you @{interest_cg fish, studiously not thinking about how she called you a gallant dumbass.|fish.}
    
        "Sorry. Can't."
    
    *goto cgcont
*elseif (libra = 8)
    "You know $!{aka2}, we could've skipped the hard part if you'd just thrown the fight in the first place instead of trying to be cute."
    
    *label littleheat
    There's surprisingly little heat in the comment. Observation more than accusation.
    
    "Sorry," you mutter. @{(defiance > 5) Even if you want to throw it back in her face, now's not a good time.|There's no good excuse. Best to keep your head down.}
    
    "What's done is done."
    
    *goto cgcont
*elseif (libra = 9)
    "You know, $!{aka2}, you really fucking screwed me jacking the intel like that."
    
    *goto littleheat
  
*elseif (libra = 10)
    "You know, $!{aka2}, your team's surprisingly difficult to give the slip. Thanks for that."
    
    *goto littleheat
*else
    *set librabeatup true
    "You know, $!{aka2}, I really could have done without getting the shit kicked out of me yesterday. My arm's holding together with stitches right now."
    
    *goto littleheat


*label cgcont

@{seeali You shift uneasily, conscious that Alistair is just a few yards away.|} $!{cg} can't only @{seeali be|have brought you} here to talk about the Altruists' run-in with her.
    
"The boss wants an all-hands tonight," she says. "And before you ask, I don't know what it's about."

That'll do it.

You nod. Not like you can excuse yourself from attending.

Again, your eyes skate across $!{cg}. Your mentor @{librabeatup is pretty damn worse for wear. Yesterday didn't treat her well.|looks exhausted.}

*choice
    #Wait for her to continue.
        You're waiting a while. Her eyes are unfocused, off in her own world.
        
    #Ask how she's doing.
        *set rel_cg %+ 7
        Your question takes a moment to sink in. She blinks, then meets your eyes. @{connectcg "This assignment isn't easy," she says. "I'm getting through it."|"You don't need to worry about me, $!{aka}."}
        
        @{connectcg She's worse at telling lies than she is detecting them. She's struggling.|Implicitly, that's an order.}
        
        Suppressing a sigh, you let it go. $!{cg}'s far too stubborn for you to get anywhere with this.
        
    *selectable_if (connectcg) #I think again about that fleeting connection we made.
        For a short conversation, you were people rather than tools.
        
        Is such a thing attainable? It feels like wishful thinking, trying to recapture that moment. You each have your roles.
        
    *selectable_if ((aro != 4) and (romance_cg != 1)) #Seeing her like this makes my heart twinge in a certain kind of way. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
        *set flirt_cg +1
        *set interest_cg true 
        
        Which speaks to more emotional involvement with her than is smart. @{t_cg But your feelings for $!{cg} have never been smart, have they?|}
        
        You can't help it. $!{cg} worn down and hurting makes your chest ache. Chastise yourself all you like, it's not going to change anything.
        
    *selectable_if (librabeatup) #@{cg_dislike I shouldn't feel bad for her, but I do.|Damn I feel guilty.}
        @{cg_dislike You're supposed to enjoy it when she gets taken down a peg. There's no satisfaction here, only frustration.|It should be easier not to care.}
        
        *if ((cg_dislike) and (libra = 6))
            Even the joy of beating her down yourself is soured, stale despite being only a day old.
            
        Despite everything with the Coven, despite you two's interactions not really counting as socializing, $!{cg}'s still probably the person you've spent longest with since that night. You weren't fully conscious for most of Hypothesis's attentions, and even when you were, he was talking over you, not to you. Catalyst hit you more often than he spoke to you.
        
        $!{cg} taught you how to protect yourself. Apparently, that matters enough for you to care she's hurting.
        
    *selectable_if (cg_shots) #Ask about those gunshots in the background of our call the other day.
        *set rel_cg %+ 10
        "Someone was shooting at you."
        
        "Yup." @{cg_dislike The corner of her mouth twitches up. "Disappointed they didn't take me out?"|She shrugs. "Was a little dicey, but I'm hard to kill."}
        
        @{cg_dislike "Please, I'd be disappointed if you got yourself killed that easily."|"Try not to test that?"}
        
        A laugh. @{cg_dislike "Fair enough."|"Aye aye."}
        
        
Around you, the café bustles. The two of you are silent. @{(instinctive > 55) You fidget restlessly.|You remain still and patient.}

*if (trust_cg > 2)
    "Hey." Her voice is quiet enough you have to strain to hear. "Do you trust me?"
    
    *if coven_history = 1
        You hesitate, studying her warily, searching for the trap.
        
        She breathes a soft sigh. "It's not a trick."

    *label loaded
    *choice
        *hide_reuse #@{(coven_history = 1) "Really?" I hate how small my voice sounds.|"Loaded question, much?"}
            @{(coven_history = 1) "I promise," she says, making steady eye contact.|She smirks, faintly lopsided. "Little bit."}
            
            So, do you trust her?
            *goto loaded
        #"Yes." I genuinely do.
            @{cg_dislike Odd to realise that you mean it. You suppose you don't have to like her to trust her.|She's the only one of them worth a damn.}
            
            $!{cg} takes you in for a long moment. Slowly, she smiles. "Means a lot." 
            
        #"Yes." It's what she wants to hear.
            *if (subterfuge < 55)
                $!{cg} lets your answer sit a moment, then nods.
                
                "Alright."
                
                *goto onceagaincg
            *else
                *set rel_cg %- 10
                She tilts her head. "Alright."
                
                *goto onceagaincg
        #"Not really." It's a flippant deflection.
            *set expressive %+ 10
            
            "Be serious a second, would you?" she snaps.
            
            "Who says I'm not?"
            
            That gets you an unimpressed glare. The question of trust remains open.
            *choice
                #"I guess I do."
                    She lets out a breath.
                    
                    "Alright. Thank you."
                    
                #Say nothing.
                    *goto shewaits
                #"Not really," I repeat.
                    *goto aflash
        #"Not really." Why would I?
            *label aflash
            @{connectcg A flash of—was that hurt?—runs across her face.|She tilts her head.} "Fair enough."  
            
            *goto onceagaincg
        *selectable_if (interest_cg) #...the hell with it. I'm telling her. "I more than trust you." @{ftone [Flirt]|}
            *set flirt_cg +1
            *set overt_cg true
            
            $!{cg}'s eyes widen, she looks down, then away. "Dime, I—you shouldn't say things like that."
            
            "What if they're true?" you @{(expressive > 55) fire back. You aren't going to change course now.|challenge, uncharacteristically bold. You've come this far…}
            
            "You—" She won't make eye contact. "You just shouldn't."
            
        #Don't answer.
            *label shewaits
            She waits.
            
            "Alright," she says at length. "Fair enough."
            
            *label onceagaincg
            Once again, she falls silent.
            *goto cgend
            
    *set cgtell true
    She leans forward, extending her arm across the table. With the opposite hand, she slides her jacket sleeve up a few inches. 
    
    Thick black veins wind along her forearm, standing out against the skin like wires. Unconsciously, you touch a hand to your @{feature bone-white hair.|cheek, just below one pallid eye.|shoulder, where your skin matches hers.|stomach, tracing the gnarled edge of your maw.} $!{cg} lets you take it in, then tugs her jacket back into place.
    
    $!{cg} always wore long-sleeved compression tops when you sparred.
    
    "Been spreading lately," she says quietly. "Doses aren't lasting as long. Slow or fast, this'll eat us in the end." Her hand hasn't moved. You see her fingers tightening their grip. "I'm trusting you. I hope you can trust me." There's the slightest tremor in her voice. She takes a moment, composing herself. "I have a plan. I can't tell you yet, and I won't ask for a commitment. Just… think about what you want."
           
    She falls almost to a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this alone."
    
    You stare at her.
    *choice
        #A ray of hope. Impossible.
            *set defiance +1
            It should be. 
            
            But that comes back to $!{cg}'s question, doesn't it?
            
            Do you trust her?
            
            And if you do, is this real?
            
        #There's no way out. She's fooling herself.
            *set defiance - 1
            Hypothesis overwrote your biology with his experiments. You can no more extricate your membrane than you could your entire skeleton.
            
            You don't know what the plan is, but it won't work.
            
        #If the trust question was a loaded gun, this is lit dynamite.
            She's testing your loyalty. She must be. $!{cg} wouldn't risk everything she's built with the Coven.
            
            Would she?
    
    Most of the Coven's on the Juice. You've always known that. Seeing the visible effects on another person is… different. 
    
    Hey, at least you won't die alone.
    
    You're glad she isn't asking for an answer. You couldn't muster one if you tried.
    
    *goto cgend
    
*else
    Her eyes suddenly clear. "I'll have something else for you soon. Keep up with what you're doing and I'll be in touch."
    
    *if observation > 30
        There's an odd cast to her expression. It takes a few seconds to place.
        
        Guilt.
        
    *else
        There's something you can't fully place in her expression.
        
*label cgend

*if (seeali)
    *page_break
    "Yo, I'm back—oh hey." Your blood runs cold as Alistair returns. His smile is pleasant, if a little bemused. "Friend of yours?"
    
    *goto combinedscene
    
*else
    *page_break
    There's a brief jingle. $!{cg} frowns and pulls out her cellphone, staring at it for a moment.

    "What the fuck," she says flatly. "Give me a minute." Without waiting for an answer, she gets up and makes a beeline for a corner booth, dialling and then putting the phone to her ear.
    
    You're not alone for long.
    
    "Yo, what?" A familiar voice rises from nearby. You turn and see—who else?—Alistair walking over to you, grinning incredulously. "What are the odds?"  
    *goto alifirst
  
  
*label combinedscene
"Uh, yeah," you say, @{seeali floundering while doing your best to avoid $!{cg}'s accusatory glare.|floundering. $!{cg} narrows her eyes at you. Desperately you try to convey with your own that you're not responsible for this.}

"Name's Alistair, good to meet you." He leans over the table, stretching out a hand to her.

$!{cg} shakes, letting go about as quickly as possible. "Mirella," she replies. "You know $!{aka2}?"

*if (aliname)
    *goto helpinghand
    
*else 
    There goes your air of mystery. @{pseudonym Was good while it lasted.|Is it your imagination, the slight widening of Alistair's eyes?}

    @{pseudonym He looks triumphant to finally learn your name.|Regardless, he soon moves on.}

    *label helpinghand
    "Yeah, just been offering a helping hand. Real glad ${mc_he}@{mc_singular 's|'ve} got someone watching out for ${mc_him}, though!"
    
    "Oh you know. Someone has to." She gives him a charming, knowing smile, and suddenly there's a relaxed twenty-something @{seeali sitting|standing} there, casually making a teasing joke. You didn't know she could [i]do[/i] that.
    
    Alistair laughs. Your eyes dart between them, trying to reconcile this $!{cg} with your unforgiving taskmaster. It's an act, right? It has to be.
    
    *if (seeali)
        It's hard not to feel both protective and defensive of @{aliventure him, the sudden compromise of your identity notwithstanding.|him.} Alistair has nothing to do with the Coven or your espionage. He's not even a mask. You think. (hope?)
        
        Point is, having a… @{interest_alistair  friend… type… person…|friend? Can you call him that? Do you want to call him that?} Having @{seeali a… someone|someone} separate from the parahuman stuff is a rare reprieve from the rest of your life.
        
    *else
        You feel like you're the only person here who understands how sketchy the situation is. @{aliventure Not only does Alistair keep showing up around you without explanation, he knows your identity.|Alistair keeps showing up around you without explanation.} You can't warn $!{cg} without tipping him off, and you don't know how to throw him off the scent. @{interest_alistair Doesn't help that your idiot heart keeps accelerating whenever you look his way, either.|}
    
    *page_break
    
    *if ((flirt_cg > 2) and (flirt_alistair > 2))
        You glance between Alistair and $!{cg}. Separate from @{seeali $!{cg} encroaching on your vague sense of normalcy,|Alistair being where he shouldn't,} you're uncomfortably aware that you're on some level attracted to both of them. This was not an intersection of foolish crushes you were prepared to happen.
        
        Preoccupied, you miss exactly what Alistair says next. You only get $!{cg}'s reaction, smothering a laugh in the back of her hand. Alistair in turn seems pleased, in an awkward, slightly embarrassed way. Both of them glance at you, and both smile, then find something very interesting about the décor to look at.
        
        You're not crazy, right? Even with $!{cg} putting up a front, she's leaving some cracks. And Alistair, he's not acting totally normal either. By rights, $!{cg} should @{seeali be making herself scarce, avoiding suspicion. Instead she's lingering, chatting, smiling.|be hurrying Alistair along but she's in no rush to do so, actively chatting with him.} There's something—call it chemistry—here.
        
        And you don't think you like it. Or you sort of like it, but also don't.
        
        *if ((aro = 2) or (aro = 3))
            The thing is, you know what you're about. @{(aro = 2) You're not a relationships—not romantic at least—kind of person. The physical side of intimacy is good for you, and of course there's some level of emotional connection, but emotional and romantic aren't always the same.|You're not a relationships kind of person. The cat and mouse of flirting is fun and all, but you're not interested in getting more intimate than that, physically [i]or[/i] emotionally.} Whatever's going on here, if you're even reading the signals right, isn't going to @{(aro = 2) click with the three of you falling into bed together.|see the three of you falling into something without a romantic connection.} $!{cg}'s too guarded to risk that kind of casual entanglement, and Alistair would probably get all gentlemanly about it.
            
            So… no three way dance here.
            
            *goto getgoing
        *else
            *choice
                #...Dammit, I can't pick between them. [Possibility of a future triad.]
                    *set polyflag_acg true
                    The thought clicks into place. This flustered-slash-anxious feeling is not wanting to be left out, not wanting them to like each other and not you. 
                    
                    …Embarrassing. 
                    
                    "So, uh, Alistair, $!{aka2}—"
                    "Hey, Mirella, $!{aka}—"
                    
                    The two of them break off and look at each other. $!{cg}'s got a despite-herself kind of grin on her face, which just feels [i]wrong.[/i] 
                    
                    (you want it to be wrong)
                    
                    @{(expressive > 55) "Wasn't expecting you guys to hit it off like this!" you say, unsure if you're forcing the cheer.|"Getting along?" You try to sound innocent. You don't think you succeed.}
                    
                    "Shut up," $!{cg} grumbles, still half-smirking. Alistair smiles shyly at you.
                    
                    You're feeling very warm all of a sudden, and you don't think you're the only one.
                    
                    Then there's an explosion of breaking glass.
                    *page_break
                    *goto bicycleBICYCLE
                #I'm not interested in sharing.
                    You're… still working out which of them you'd prefer not to share.

                    Astounding that you've conspired to somehow make a complicated situation even moreso. That's the $!{forename} way.
                    
                    *goto getgoing
                #Uh. This is straight up insane. No.
                    You've made many stupid decisions. Trying to date these two at the same time would crack the top three. There are endless reasons not to pursue this any further—if you're even reading the signals right—and none worth mentioning to give it a try.

                    So you're going to be smart. Occasionally you're capable of that. No dating of your handler and pasta stalker.
                    
                    *label getgoing
                    @{seeali "I should really hit the road," says $!{cg}. "$!{aka2}, remember what I told you." A meaningful glance.|"I should leave y'all to it," says Alistair. "Be good, y'hear?"}
                    
                    @{seeali "Sure," you start to say.|"We'll see." $!{cg} starts to laugh.}
                    *goto explosion
                
         
    *else
        *label stoleyour
        @{seeali "I guess I stole your place," says $!{cg}, neither sounding nor looking especially apologetic. |"Ah man, just realised that your first impression is me jacking your spot." Alistair looks embarrassed. "Sorry. Usually got better manners."}
        
        @{seeali Alistair laughs. "No biggie."|$!{cg} smirks. "I'll let you off, just this once."}
        
        *if (seeali)
            You'd really like her to leave you to it at this point. It's all too close to the wire, @{aliventure especially with what Alistair knows.|unpleasantly mixing Coven and non-Coven.}
            
        *else
            Okay, Alistair has to be about done here. @{aliventure You need him to be done here.|}

*label explosion
*page_break An explosion of breaking glass.
*label bicycleBICYCLE
You have to admit, a bicycle launching through the café's front window did not rank high on your list of possible interruptions.

People scream. Scramble for cover. Cry out in pain.

A brash voice cuts through the din.

"Listen up fuckboys!"

A woman clad in orange and crimson hops through the shattered window, long, neon red hair fluttering around her. A huge pair of sunglasses with flame-shaped lenses conceal her eyes, though the rest of her face—including the broad smirk of her painted lips—is fully visible. She idly tosses a golf ball from one gloved hand to the other, scanning the clientele.

And this would be Rocket. Leader of S.C.U.M.

Great.

"Here's how this is gonna go!" Rocket continues. "Y'all are gonna sit here like good little mice while my guys have a look around. We ain't stealing nothing, so just behave, don't be stupid, and I won't have to pop anyone's kneecaps, capiche?" She punctuates her speech with a flick of the wrist and an earsplitting crack. The golf ball blasts from her hand like it was fired from a cannon, impacting the ceiling in a shower of plaster.

The café is silent. Rocket calmly pulls another ball from the bandolier strung across her chest. Behind her, others enter through the hole: a woman caked in makeup wearing a mishmash of once-expensive attire, now tattered and stained, a man in a fedora, strips of leather wrapped around his face like bandages.

*if (tag)
    For a brief instant, the latter looks straight at you, and you're hit by an indescribable chill until his sunken eyes move on.
    
"Spring Breaker, Insider. You're up!" Rocket barks, rolling that ball between her fingers.

The members of S.C.U.M. begin moving through the room. At each table, the woman—Spring Breaker—grabs a patron, Insider leans in close to sniff at them, and then shakes his head, leaving Spring Breaker to roughly shove them away. Repeat for the entire table, then move on to the next. Beside you, Alistair is stricken, expression a mixture of fear and worry. The other villains get closer, and your heart pounds.
*choice
    #Okay, but there's no reason they should be looking for me specifically, right?
        Oh come on, $!{forename}, when have you ever been so lucky?
        *choice
            #Fuck.
                *label yeptheysureare
                They're definitely after you, aren't they?
            #...fuck.
                *goto yeptheysureare
            #I'm an optimist?
                No you're not.
                *choice
                    #...yeah okay.
                        *label prolly
                        They're probably after you.
                        
                    #I try to be.
                        …but your life's track record isn't great.
                        
                        *goto prolly
        
        
    #Alistair's either shady, or he has the worst timing known to man.
        How can one man stumble into this many masks by sheer fluke?
        
        You ignore the part where you're the common denominator of two of the encounters. He's damn suspicious either way.
        
    #I can't go full $!{mask} in front of a roomful of people!
        Your secret identity may not be much, but your life will become immeasurably more complicated if your face gets tied to your villainous persona.

Halfway between one set of patrons and the next Insider suddenly pauses, tilting his head back like he's scenting the air.
    
*if (tag)
    "There. Right there." He swivels, pointing over to your table.
    
*else
    "Getting closer…" he says. "That side of the room." He gestures in your general direction.
    
"Dammit," $!{cg} hisses. Her entire body is tense, a cat preparing to pounce. "Sit tight, it's about to hit the fan."
*choice
    #"What do you—"
        *gosub cgducks
        
        *goto aligrab
    #"Hold on—"
        *gosub cgducks
        
        *label aligrab
        Caught up with $!{cg}'s antics, you're not paying attention to the room, you're not reacting.  
        
        So, as she ducks her head under the table, leaping back up wearing Libra's mask, as Spring Breaker shrieks a warning, and another gunshot-like crack splits the air, you're completely exposed.
        
        "Get down!"
        
        Broad arms wrap around your shoulders, bearing you to the ground as Rocket's ball sizzles past your head. You hit the floor with a whoosh of air. Something heavy is on top of you, and it takes a second to process that you're nose to nose with Alistair. His eyes are wide with fear, screaming past the brave face he's attempting to don.
        
        You've never been so conscious of the man's size.
        *choice
            #Get off me, dammit!
                You immediately start struggling. Wearing a surprised expression, Alistair essentially does a push-up, allowing you to squirm free of him, glaring furiously.
                
            #Thank him. That was close.
                "Thanks," you mumble, a little abashed by your slow reactions.
                
                Alistair manages a strained smile.
                
            #Go completely rigid, panic building.
                He's on top of you. He's pinning you. He's going to start hitting and hitting and—
                
                "$!{aka}? Deep breaths. Easy. It's gonna be okay." The tremble in his voice fouls his soothing tone, but it serves to stem your rising agitation.
                
                He isn't attacking you.
                
                [i]Yet,[/i] adds a dark corner of your thoughts.
                
            #Just stay still.
                @{touchingokay You|You do your best to} brush off your @{touchingokay discomfort|swiftly mounting discomfort}. This is the safest place to be, even if you'd rather not have Alistair on top of you like this.
                
                Too many memories.
                
            *if (aro != 4) #...his body's pressing against me. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                *set interest_alistair true
                *set flirt_alistair +1
                You're hyper conscious of the physical, the [i]presence[/i] of him, @{touchingokay attention totally diverted from the chaos.|overriding even your usual instinctual aversion to touch.}
                
                His hand is on your shoulder, fingers leaving slight indentations. The weight of his chest presses into you. Both his legs touch yours, thigh against thigh.
                
                A knee between your legs.
                
                So, uh. Is it hot in here or…?
                
                Alistair, gazing into your eyes, seems to snap out of a daze, stammering an apology and rearranging himself into a less compromising position.
                
                With S.C.U.M. around, best not to have the distraction, you tell yourself, face flushed.
                
            *if (aro != 4) #He's so brave and selfless—wait. No! No swooning! Knock that off! @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                *set interest_alistair true
                *set flirt_alistair +1
                Your traitorous heart skips a beat and you furiously twist your head to the side, willing yourself to stop acting like a schoolkid with a crush. Alistair isn't your knight in shining armour, and you're no damsel in distress.
                
                So you can stop gazing into his eyes—soft, brown—and admiring his courage any second now.
                
                Any second.
                
                …
                
                For fuck's sake, $!{forename}.
        
        *goto cgsprings
    #Take cover.
        *gosub cgducks
        *set alicover 2
        Without a word, you dive to the floor. You're not getting in the firing line.
        
        *goto cgsprings
    #Shield Alistair.
        *gosub cgducks
        *set alicover 3
        
        Without a word, you grab Alistair around the shoulders.
        
        "Whoa—"
        
        @{(mc_height < 4) You don't think he expects someone of your size and frame to manhandle him, but that's exactly what you do, bearing|Paying his protest no mind, you immediately bear} him down to the ground. Tall and broad as he is, it's nothing your Juice-bolstered strength can't handle.
        
        *goto cgsprings

*label cgducks
$!{cg} ducks her head below the table.

"Don't move! Don't you fucking move!" Rocket roars across the room.

*return

*label cgsprings
@{(alicover = 1) Meanwhile, $!{cg} leaps back up to her feet,|And back up $!{cg} leaps,} Libra's mask pulled haphazardly over her head, hair bunched messily at the bottom.

"Fuck! Mask!" Spring Breaker shouts shrilly.

Everything happens at once.

Another gunshot-like crack. $!{cg} flips your table, Rocket's ball punching clean through, just barely deflected. @{(alicover = 2) Alistair hits the deck alongside you.|You and Alistair tuck into your scant cover.} Spring Breaker's hands whip up, dripping with moisture. $!{cg} hurls a chair at her, kicks another into Insider's path, then steps up onto a third, hopping onto the thin edge of your table with flawless balance. A third Rocket shot barely clips $!{cg}'s shoulder, tearing leather, drawing blood.
*page_break
"Motherfucker!" Rocket roars. "Who the fuck do you think you are!?"

$!{cg} doesn't care to banter, kicking off from her perch and breaking into a run across the café's tables, each step sure and certain amidst loaded plates and full glasses. Snarling her anger, Rocket whirls, sweeps the nearest table clear in a cacophony of shattering ceramic, then grips it with both hands.

"Think fast, asshole!"

It's almost too fast to follow.

With the loudest report yet, the table blasts towards $!{cg} like a cannonball.

She doesn't even slow down, vaulting into the air, touching down on the careening furniture, crossing it in a single step, then kicking off the far side. The table explodes against the back wall in a shower of splinters. $!{cg}'s still charging straight at Rocket.

You did not know her powers could do that.

@{(alicover = 2) Looking|Extricated from Alistair and looking} on from behind your table, your mind is awhir, trying to piece together your next move. Can $!{cg} do this alone? If she can't, should you intervene? Revealing $!{mask} alongside Libra will be impossible to explain—

*if (tag)
    *set doubt_alistair +5
    "Gotcha."
    *page_break A hand falls on your shoulder.
    *set pinch true
    You assumed Insider would be focused on $!{cg}, same as you.
    
    Now his clammy hand clasps you like a vice as he fixes you with an overstretched grin.
    
    "Didn't you hear? I always find my mark," he boasts.
    
    Details on Insider are sketchy. He's supposed to have some kind of information-based power, but that's largely speculation.
    
    Far more concrete is his unnatural strength as you twist in his grip, unable to pull free. Insider's too-wide smile somehow grows even further and he begins to squeeze, bending your body further and further back. Pain radiates from his grasp, and your shoulder grows number and number.
    
    *if (fighting_style = 1)
        Too bad for Insider that he's right in your range.
        
        Out lash your legs, snagging his ankle between them. He tries to wrench you back in line, but it's already too late. You roll your body, swipe his other ankle, and bring him down to the ground in the cleanest of sweeps, breaking his hold of you in the process. Before he knows what's happening you launch yourself on top of him, elbow first. You connect, bouncing his head off the floor with a thunk.
        
        @{accidentkill Your stomach lurches, but there's no blood. No crunch. He'll be fine.|Easy as pie.}
        
        *goto damndude
    *elseif (guts < 20)
        *set doubt_alistair + 5
        Your powers may boost your strength, but that only takes you so far with a body as weak as yours. Try as you might, you can't wriggle out of his hold. 
        
        Insider's fingers clamp yet harder onto your shoulder while he just keeps gloating. "I can see you wondering: 'how did he know!?' but trust me, you're about to have much bigger problems." 
        
        You beat helplessly at his hand, disgust and fear rising in your gorge. Your membrane boils beneath the surface, desperate for an opening. It'd handle him no problem… and bring a hundred new problems in his stead.
        
        He's almost forced you down to the floor. Your vision swims with pain.
        
        "Regret messing with us yet—" He drops like a sack of bricks as a chair smashes into his back. Alistair appears in his place, looking almost sheepish with the remains of the chair in his hands.
        
        *label alididnt
        "Sorry. Didn't know what to do," he mumbles. "Y'alright?"
        
        @{(alicover = 1) Twice in a row he's saved you now.|You didn't think he had it in him.}
        
        *goto imfinealistair
    *else
        But membraneless isn't helpless. Your powers feed your strength, and he's underestimating you.
        
        *choice
            #Rise into an uppercut.
                Insider clearly believes he has you subdued. 
                
                You're more than happy to demonstrate otherwise.
                
                In one motion, you power to your feet, bringing your fist up with you.
                
                Knuckles meet chin. Insider's head snaps back and he slowly topples over.
                
            #Punch him in the balls.
                All's fair in love and café brawling.
                
                Besides, you're crouching. Perfect height.
                
                Making a fist, you wait one, two…
                
                …and swing around to hit him where it hurts.
                
                Emitting a high-pitched noise, Insider folds up.
                
            #Stay calm, bide my time.
                *set instinctive %- 15
                Pain is temporary. If Insider could take you out quickly, he would have already.
                
                You grit your teeth and deal with it.
                
                "Let ${mc_him} go!" Alistair barks, the maddest you've heard him.
                
                Insider glances around. "Shut up, or I'm gonna test how long it takes your friend's bones to br—"
                
                Opening.
                
                You twist, tuck your legs to your chest, and launch a two-footed kick up into Insider's abdomen. He doubles over with a whoosh of air. You repeat the motion, connecting both feet straight to his dome.
                
                He goes down.
                
        *label damndude
        "Damn! You're a @{(mc_gender = "nonbinary") badass!"|bad, bad ${mc_man}!"} Alistair gushes, wide-eyed. "Y'alright? Guy didn't hurt you, did he?"
        
        *label imfinealistair
        "I'm fine," you say, massaging the feeling back into your shoulder.
        
        *label insiderangy
        "Fucking—gonna break your legs and watch you crawl—" Insider snarls, trying and failing to drag himself upright with a chair.
        
        *goto rocketbellows
                               
*else
    "That guy's coming our way," Alistair says, voice low and urgent.
    *page_break Look around.
    Rather than helping Rocket, Insider has continued to move steadily through the room, checking one person after another. More and more his search has narrowed, and now he's heading for you and Alistair, ignoring the other tables around him. If he just was going after Libra's 'friends' he would have rushed to you two immediately, so that can't be it.
    
    No time to speculate. Insider's course is unerring.
    *choice
        #Cheese it!
            You're not waiting to let him get his hands on you.
            
            "Go!" you bark to Alistair, then rush deeper into the café, weaving between frightened bystanders, chairs, and tables.
            
            "There you are!" shouts Insider.
            
            With little room to manoeuvre, you're soon at risk of cornering yourself against a wall. A quick backward glance confirms Alistair's keeping pace, but Insider's hot on your heels and gaining.
            
            Rocket's covering the exit. Only one thing for it.
            
            Banking the hardest turn you can, you gun straight for the service counter and take a running vault across it, coins scattering everywhere as you slide past the register.
            
            "Sorry!" Alistair hollers as he joins you with a crash, nearly flattening the staff member cowering behind the counter. You're already regathering yourself, stumbling towards a nearby door into a back area. From the corner of your eye, you see Insider rushing to intercept.
            
            "You can't escape me! I always—"
            
            He slips on a displaced tray, skids, and splats onto the ground, arms windmilling like a cartoon character. You pause in the doorway.
            
        #Strike first!
            *set instinctive %+ 10
            It'll be the last thing he expects!
            
            Before Insider can close the gap you charge at him. His eyes bug wide, hands rising too late to guard.
            
            *if fighting_style = 1
                *set doubt_alistair + 5
                *set rel_cg %+ 5
                Too easy.
                
                Leaping, you plough your knee into Insider's face, dropping him cold. Recovering, you reset to a fighting stance, but then relax. It's clear at a glance that he's in no condition to get back up.
                
                *label damndaniel
                "Damn! You're a @{(mc_gender = "nonbinary") badass!"|bad, bad ${mc_man}!"} Alistair gushes, staring in admiration.
                
                "Uh, thanks," you mutter. @{(expressive > 55) Not that you're a self-conscious person, but he might ask questions.|More unwanted attention.}
                
                *goto insiderangy
            *if guts < 20
                Your fist connects solidly with his cheek, snapping his head to the side and… that's it. Your knuckles blare with pain.
                
                Bad time to forget how reliant you are on your membrane. Weak.
                
                "That all you got?" Insider laughs, voice cracking. "I got hit harder in middle school!"
                
                *if expressive > 55
                    "Lot to unpack there," you quip, backing away.
                    
                    "Oh, we'll talk allll about it later, rat."
                    
                *else
                    You back away, rubbing your knuckles.
                    
                    "Nowhere to run, rat."
                
                Rat? Rude. Insider advances on you, a too-wide grin stretching under his mask.
                
                "You're in over your head," he gloats. "I'm gonna—" His intentions are lost in a cry of pain as a chair slams into his face. 
                
                Beside you, Alistair lowers his arms from throwing position, meeting your eyes almost sheepishly.
                
                *goto alididnt
                 
            *else
                Your fist connects flush, dropping him cold. He clutches his face, moaning and swearing, and you back up to a safe distance. That wasn't anything too crazy, right? Nothing beyond the abilities of an ordinary person.
                
                *goto damndaniel
                
        #Don't overreact. This doesn't necessarily mean anything.
            *set instinctive %- 10
            *set breakoff true
            
            Surely he's encroaching closer and closer on you by coincidence.
            
            …Yeah no, you're not fooling anyone.
            
            @{(instinctive > 45) You restrain your instinct to bolt with some effort.|You keep your feet planted and avoid looking at Insider.} Patience. No outing yourself until it's the only option.
            
            He's still walking straight at you. The options are narrowing in real time.
            
            Alistair steps into Insider's path. "Hey. Let's be cool—"
            
            "Shut up!" Insider demands. "You don't talk! I talk! Now stand still and—"
            
            You don't get to hear what he wants.
            

*label rocketbellows
"'Sides!" Rocket's voice bellows. "Hounds're crashing the party! Bug out!"

You whirl around just as Rocket bails through the front window, wiping a smear of blood from her face. Spring Breaker follows, clearing the path with sharp bursts of water. @{breakoff Insider breaks off from Alistair with a loud curse and sprints after his comrades.|Finally, Insider sprints over to join them, cursing up a storm the whole way.}

$!{cg} watches, then slowly lowers her fists and doubles over, shoulders trembling, hands on her knees. Scuffs and tears mark her clothes; Rocket's work, no doubt.

There's a moment of strange, still silence, like the entire room is holding its breath. 

Then a ragged cheer goes up around the café.
*page_break
With Alistair in tow, you move over to $!{cg}. Keeping your distance seems pointless; you've already been seen with her, and people definitely would have noticed the whole altercation with Insider. You can only hope that your face doesn't end up plastered over too many mask discussion boards. There's pretty strict rules about the media showing possible associates of known masks, but the internet's the internet; your average fanboy doesn't give a damn about privacy.

Alistair looks a little overawed. "Can't believe you're friends with a hero," he murmurs. @{(rel_cg > 45) You suppose technically you are.|Hah. Friends. Yeah.} 

You simply shrug in response.

*if ((aliname) and (not (pseudonym)))
    Trusting Alistair is up in the air. @{seeali He knows about your past, and that's a major fucking problem.|Conveniently showing up where you happened to be meeting $!{cg}? Knowing your past? That's not an alarm bell, that's an alarm klaxon.}
    
*else
    Trusting Alistair is up in the air. @{seeali Yes, even after agreeing to meet him.|Conveniently showing up where you happened to be meeting $!{cg} is suspicious as hell.}
    
On the other hand, he didn't do anything back there that an average if somewhat buff guy couldn't do. On the third, mutant hand—maybe a tendril?—neither did you.

$!{cg} straightens as you reach her. She's breathing pretty hard, and you spot flecks of blood on her jacket. She motions outside with a thumb. "Away from the gawkers."

Nodding, you follow her through the café's shattered front window.
*page_break
The street has all the telltale signs of a mask fight, from scorch marks and debris to camera flashes and huddled bystanders. So much for avoiding the gawkers.

Oh, and the superheroes, those are also a pretty good indicator of a mask fight.

Kneeling, Portrait carefully bandages the arm of an injured civilian. Nearby, a painted gorilla pins a gawky man wearing an armour-plated costume to the floor. On the opposite side of the street, Arcade is chatting amicably with a slowly-assembling crowd, gradually moving them away from the scene.

"Got here fast," $!{cg} notes. "Must've been patrolling nearby. Did wonder if the rest of S.C.U.M. were along for the ride."

That'd make gorilla cushion over there Conqueror, the prodigal child of the DPR veteran Quartermaster. Someone's going to get an earful from dad.

"Real quick, M—Libra," Alistair catches himself. "You kicked ass back there, girl! Lotta people woulda got hurt if you never jumped in." @{polyflag_acg There's a sheen in his eyes that you aren't sure how to read.|}

@{polyflag_acg Similarly inscrutable is the sudden pulse of jealousy in your chest.|}
*if (polyflag_acg)
    "That's—sure." Wait, is she flustered? Why is she flustered? Again your chest twinges.
    
    …Are you jealous of $!{cg} for getting Alistair's attention, or Alistair for putting $!{cg} all aspin?

*else
    "Don't make a big thing of it. I did what I needed to do."
    
    "Naw, you did the right thing. S'a difference."
    
"Hello, hero of the hour!"
*page_break
*set scum true
Arcade comes jogging over. You tense automatically, but his attention passes straight across you and onto $!{cg}.

"Libra, right?" $!{cg} nods. Arcade smiles, and it's dazzling. "You did a good thing today. Taking on S.C.U.M. all by yourself is" — he laughs. — "Okay, some people would say reckless, but I'll go with courageous, admirable." 

"I couldn't just sit by and watch," says $!{cg}. It's strange to watch her demeanour shift, hear the changes in tone as she melds into her hero persona. "If not me, then who else?"

Arcade's smile broadens. "Preach." He glances to you and Alistair. "Are you folks okay?" It's subtle, but you've heard Arcade in hero mode enough to recognise practiced PR from him.

@{(instinctive > 45) "We're managing," you say, then scold yourself near instantly. He's heard [i]your[/i] voice too, idiot.|You nod quietly, wary of speaking. Familiarity cuts both ways, and your membrane doesn't alter your voice that much.} 

Alistair adds a "Holding up."

"Wonderful. Bet you weren't expecting this sort of heroics from your friend, huh?" Arcade laughs and winks, perfectly manufactured. Thankfully, that's the extent of his scrutiny as he turns back to $!{cg}.

Meanwhile, Alistair catches your eye. "We dreaming?" he murmurs.
*choice
    #"Feel like we would have woken up when the furniture started exploding."
        "What, that a regular thing for you?" he jokes. You hope.
        
        "My dreams don't have explosions," you say. Just dead friends and accusations. @{dreamforget |And apparently children, as of last night.}
        
        "Mine neither." He exhales. "Wow. It's real."
        
    #"I don't dream of superheroes, no."
        "Yeah? What do you dream of?"
        
        *if (interest_kay)
            "Sheep, mostly."
            
            *label causeurdownbad
            …Why was that the first thing to come to mind?
            
        *elseif (interest_teddie)
            "Skeletons."
            
            Alistair laughs.
            
            *goto causeurdownbad
        
        *else
            @{(subterfuge > 30) "I don't really remember them, honestly," you say, dishonestly.|"Mostly I get nightmares." It slips out without meaning to. Dammit.}
            
            @{(subterfuge > 30) "So maybe you do dream of them, just don't remember."|He looks at you sympathetically, which is almost worse than suspicion. "Sorry to hear."}
            
            @{(subterfuge > 30) That conjures a smile out of you.|"It's whatever," you mutter, glancing away.}
            
    #You shrug. Probably rhetorical anyway.
        *set expressive %- 7
        "Naw prolly not, huh?" he continues.
        
        See? Rhetorical.
        
    *if (aro != 4) #"Well, you're here, so it's definitely a possibility." @{ftone [Flirt]|}
        *set interest_alistair true
        *set overt_alistair true
        *set flirt_alistair + 2
        He stares at you, jaw hanging open.
        
        @{(expressive > 60) You—yup! That sure was a thing you just said!|Alright. Back to the Zone. You've got a chasm to hurl yourself into.} 
        
        "I—uh—right." Alistair looks away, laughing nervously. You seek out an alternate target for your attention, lest you die on the spot. 
        
    *selectable_if (pinch) #"Insider already pinched me so I'm going to say no."
        Alistair laughs, then looks guilty for it. "Yeah, aight."

Arcade and $!{cg} aren't so far away that you can't overhear their conversation, and you promptly begin eavesdropping.

"It'd be a massive help if you swung by our headquarters. We'll have to write up a report, and your perspective would be valuable." Arcade's still putting on the sell.

"I see. Yeah, I can do that."

"What about her friends?" Portrait asks.

"Uh" — Arcade cranes his neck to look at you and Alistair. — "They can come too if they want, it's no big deal."

With a nod to his teammate, Portrait heads over to you both. "Sorry, but we're borrowing your friend for a little while." His voice is soft, gentle, and as best you can tell, genuine. "If you'd like, you could join her at our building? There's no obligation; it's the least we can do after those supervillains ruined your afternoon."

Movement. $!{cg}, past Portrait's shoulder, is nodding.
*choice
    #Looks like my hands are tied. Again.
        Same as it ever was.
        
    #Great. How the fuck will I explain this to the others?
        Oh sure, went out for a coffee, wound up strolling into the Glory Hounds' base. Totally normal afternoon.
        
    #I sure do love getting ordered around with no say in the matter.
        You glare mutinously at $!{cg}. Would it have killed her to ask what you thought?
        
        Whatever. Stupid of you to expect anything different.
        
    #Actually, I genuinely want to go.
        Come on, when are you ever going to get the chance to see what the Glory Hounds' base is like? Besides, you probably aren't getting deeper than the foyer.
        
    *if (ephalanx) #What happens if I run into Beth?
        A pit of dread opens in your stomach. There's every possibility that she's there. And then…
        
        Fuck. Fuck you are so screwed. You've got no excuse to defy $!{cg} this time.
        
        Hopefully Phalanx is off… heroing. Right.
        
        [i]Fuck.[/i]
        
        "Fine by me. Alistair?" Somehow, you manage to keep yourself from sounding like you're on the verge of screaming.
        *goto soundsgooda

"Fine by me. Alistair?" You can't really ignore him right in front of Portrait.

*label soundsgooda
"Sounds good," Alistair replies, grinning like an idiot. @{interest_alistair An adorable idiot.|}

"Fantastic," says Portrait. "We'll have a van here in a few minutes to drive everyone over." 

Right, of course they have their own vehicles. The image of Surpass hailing a cab to get to a mask fight passes through your mind.
*page_break
The wait, thankfully, is as brief as promised. A van with Glory Hounds branding edges past the makeshift cordon on the street and pulls up alongside the café. The passenger side disgorges Enfilade, who meets $!{cg} with a flinty stare. There's a tense few seconds of eye contact, then Enfilade swaps her attention to her teammates.

"The support crew are ten minutes out. Acceptable?"

"Sure. You and Portrait can hold the fort until then," replies Arcade. "Not really S.C.U.M's style to double back after bailing." He flashes a grin at $!{cg}. "Especially not when our friend here took on Rocket three to one."

"You're giving me too much credit, but thank you," $!{cg} answers quietly.

"Credit where it's due!"

The front of the van is a three-seater, leaving Arcade and $!{cg} to hop in alongside the driver, a lean man in a red polo. Portrait opens the sliding side door for you, giving a slight bow.

"Safe journey," says Portrait. "Take it easy, alright? You've been through a lot." His earnest expression tips the scale away from condescending over to sincerity. You don't have much to say to him, just a nod and a murmured 'thanks' from Alistair.
*page_break
The back of the van is divided from the front, a narrow shutter serving as a viewing slot. You buckle up and try to swallow your unease. It's like you're locked up in here.

As the vehicle rumbles into motion, you brace for a 'gotcha!', for Alistair to flash some kind of Glory Hounds badge, for Arcade to declare in triumph that he knows you're $!{mask}, and he can't believe you were so stupid as to willingly blunder into custody.

You brace. And you brace. And you brace.

The van bumps over a pothole. Arcade calls, slightly muffled. "Just checking you're awake back there!"

Cute.

*if (flirt_cg > 2)
    Further into the trip, Alistair speaks, voice low enough not to carry through to the front. "So, you an' her… that's like a thing, huh?" @{polyflag_acg He sounds...wistful?|}
    *choice
        #Get defensive.
            "What makes you think that?"
            
            Alistair tilts his head. "I mean. how y'all acted together. I figured—so you're not a thing?"
            
            "I don't have to answer that!" you snap.
            
            Alistair smirks. You sharply turn your head away.
            
        *selectable_if (t_cg) #Get [i]really[/i] defensive.
            "What? Why would you say that? Don't be stupid."
            
            Alistair looks at you.
            
            Alistair smirks.
            
            You fold your arms and study the van door.
            
        #What!? No!
            You don't even have to say anything, your expression tells all.
            
            "Huh," says Alistair. "I figured with how y'all act around each—well, it don't matter." 
            
            How you act—what's that supposed to mean!?
            
        #I wish. Wait—uh.
            Thoughts derail. 
            
            $!{cg}'s effect on you is getting to be a problem. You're about ten minutes from longingly sighing as you pine for her return.
            
            You realise how conspicuous your silence is around the time Alistair breaks into a broad grin.
            
            "Shut up," you mutter.
            
            The grin broadens.
            
        #Unconvincingly laugh it off.
            "Me and Mirella? No way." Your smile, you suspect, could be drawn on with clown makeup.
            
            "For real?" Alistair tilts his head. "Huh."
            
        *selectable_if (polyflag_acg) #Would he be disappointed? @{ftone [Flirt]|}
            *set flirt_alistair + 1
            *set flirt_cg + 1
            "Feeling left out?"
            
            Alistair finds anywhere to look except straight at you. "I mean—I wouldn't wanna interfere with—uh. A…anyway."
            
            This isn't so much playing with fire as chicken with a live grenade.
            
            And it's far more exciting than it has any right to be.
                  
    
*else    
    "Crazy," Alistair mumbles. "Crazy ass day."
    
    @{aliventure You think about the too-much that he knows.|You think about S.C.U.M. tearing through the café.} He and $!{cg} in the same place at the same time.
    
    Yeah. 'Crazy' is the least of it.
    
    
Eventually, the van rolls to a stop with a muffled "We're here!" from the front.

You step out onto tarmac, a secluded private parking lot behind a sturdy midrise adorned in blue and white. The building has its fair share of battle scars, from chipped and warped bricks to a misshapen scorchmark high on one wall.

*finish Welcome to Glory Hounds HQ.