*set vials +1
*set juice -10
*set mc_health 1
*set injurydesc 1
*set surpass_stomach 1
*set recovery 1
*set remotemembrane 1
*set vantagebeating 1
*set getspiked 1
*temp silentstill false
*temp cannibalscore 0
*temp rocketprogress 0
*temp juicingup 0
*temp gotviolentcan false
*temp advantage false
*temp juicedrocket false
*temp takingitslow false
*temp thebasics false
*temp gooped false
*temp carapaceuse false
*temp blahblahvariable false
*temp nocrowdwil false
*temp springscore 0
*temp wompwomp false
*temp goodteamwork false
*temp brutalspring false
*temp failbypass false
*temp failspringfight false
*temp coopwyrd false
*temp boxing false
*temp goalie false
*temp fakefall false
*temp rocketstall 0
*temp rocketscore 0
*temp humbleabode false
*temp hurtfeelings true
*temp fastflurry false
*temp theworldspettiestvariable false
*temp owehimone false
*temp tiredofsecrets false
*temp lethimvent false
*temp talkedleavebe false
*temp talkedgrowth true
*temp rocketprogress2 0
*temp outsidejuicerocket false
*temp possum 0
*temp indoorfight false
*temp lostandretain 1
*temp ilivehere false

*label startch11
With an explosion of splintering wood, you're launched out onto the street.

Wind knocked out of you, it's a few seconds flat on your back gasping for air before you're able to press your tendrils to the concrete and push yourself upright.

By which time you've already got a cyberware-studded maniac barrelling towards you like a runaway train.

*choice
    #Move!
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        Hell no!
        
        You hurl yourself to the side in the nick of time, landing hard on the ground.
        
        It smarts, but you'll take a little pain over getting pulverised.
        
        Scrambling up again, you whip around to see your assailant skidding to a halt, kicking up sparks in the process. They wheel, then pause, staring you down.
        
    #Meet them head on.
        You plant your feet, aiming your shoulder square at their chest.
        
        *if speciality = 3
            With an almighty crunch, you collide, metal meeting carapace in an impact that sends you both reeling in opposite directions.
            
            As you each regain your balance, you stand off, staring one another down.
            
        *elseif guts > 50
            With a bone-rattling crunch, you collide, throwing all the strength you've got into checking their charge. The impact sends you both reeling in opposite directions, your assailant's jaw dropping in shock at your sheer power.
            
            Taking a moment to regain their composure, they stare you down.
            
        *else
            The theory is sound. The reality is not.
            
            With a bone-rattling crunch, you're hurled from your feet and sent flying through the air to go crashing onto the concrete for the second time in a row.
            
            At least they knocked you far enough back you manage to get up again before they can close the distance. As you regain your footing, they hang back, staring you down.
            
    #Look before I leap.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        You have half a moment, but half a moment is just enough.
        
        Sidestepping smartly, you @{(fighting_style = 1) snap out a hand, snatching their wrist and popping your hip to convert their momentum into a massive throw. They slam into the concrete with a crash, flipping over from the force.|give your assailant a good hard shove by way of your tendrils, sending them careening past you. They nearly go flat on their face into the concrete, but manage to catch themself, skidding to a halt in a shower of sparks.}
        
        @{(fighting_style = 1) Their eyes are wide with shock as they scramble back up, staring you down.|They whip around, stopping to stare you down.}
        
A barrage of curses emanates from somewhere back in the two-storey brick home in a row of other two-storey brick homes you were recently evicted from. Your attacker favours you with a shark-toothed grin. Mismatched cybernetics protrude from all over their body, each movement accompanied by the groan of overtaxed machinery twisted far beyond its intended purpose. They're both the Frankenstein and the monster of Augment science, cramming modification after modification into themself with no regard for safety or sanity.

It takes some doing to be the most wanted member of a gang like S.C.U.M., but Cannibal clears the bar handily. A reputation for breaking down dead or incapacitated augments for parts will do that.

Why did you agree to handle them, again?
*page_break Cannibal takes a clanking step.

Looks like you're out of time to rue your role in Architect's latest plan. You @{speciality extend your senses, and are relieved to feel the familiar itch of a pair of nodes at the fringes of your consciousness. It'd have been a total waste if they'd got squashed three minutes into the fight.|shift from foot to foot, still getting a feel for the fresh alterations to your body. Two extra tendrils nested below the first pair, an elongated torso, splay-clawed feet, and a broad, jutting jaw aren't the wildest your changes have ever been, but nor are they easy street. Especially with a set of eyes dappling your chest and refracting your vision.|roll one armoured shoulder, then the other, shaking off the last of Cannibal's original attack. Good thing you were already suited up.|dummy}

*if speciality = 2
    You imagine it's not often Cannibal gets competition for most monstrous parahuman.
    
Another step. There's a hydraulic hiss from somewhere in Cannibal's leg.


*choice
    #Banter. Maybe I can get into their head.
        *if expressive < 70
            "I've been wondering, shouldn't you be called 'Scavenger' or 'Chopshop' or something?" you call out. "It's not like you eat people."
            
            Cannibal pauses midstride, giving you a strange look. 
            
            The tragically familiar feeling that your one-liner is not quite the barb you thought it to be descends upon you.
            
            *label cannibalnamecomments
            *if (mask = "thorn")
                "Look who's talking. Last I checked, you don't have any spines, Thorn."
                
            *elseif (mask = "chironex")
                "I'd question your own mask, but I suppose Chironex suits you well enough."
                
            *elseif ((mask = "manticore") or (mask = "Chimera"))
                @{(speciality = 2) "I'd question your own mask, but I suppose in fairness I see where $!{mask} is coming from."|"Look who's talking. I don't see anything particularly chimeric about you."}
                
            *elseif ((mask = "Goop") or (mask = "Symbiote"))
                "I suppose your own name is fairly illustrative. @{(mask = "Goop") But we can't all be as on the nose as you."|It says interesting things about that membrane of yours."}
                
            *elseif ((mask = "Sidestep") or (mask = "Skitter"))
                "Look who's talking. @{(mask = "Sidestep") What are you sidestepping, exactly?"|"I don't see you doing much skittering."}
                
            *elseif (mask = "Tentacle Beast")
                "I suppose when your own name is about as on the nose as it gets, you hold others to the same standard."
            
            *elseif (mask = "Scylla")
                "And am I to take it that you were transformed into a monster?"
                
                *label tooclosetohome
                *if (expressive > 69)
                    That hits a little too close. You hesitate. Cannibal avails themself of the opportunity to charge at you.
                    
                *else
                    *gosub literallyoneline
                    More importantly, that hits a little too close. You hesitate. Cannibal avails themself of the opportunity to charge at you.
                
                    *goto donewdialogue
                
            *elseif (mask = "Nyx")
                "Look who's talking. You aren't the night, $!{mask}."
                
            *elseif ((mask = "Maw") or (mask = "The Maw"))
                @{(speciality = 2) "We can't all be as on the nose as you, $!{mask}. Thought long and hard about your mask, didn't you?"|"And you have no mouth, yet here we are."}
                
            *elseif (mask = "Agonizer")
                "And? Your powers aren't any more related to pain than anyone else who uses them in combat."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Carnifex")
                "Should I take it that your own mask is literal? Are you claiming to be my executioner?"
                
            *elseif (mask = "Eldritch")
                "Look who's talking. I see nothing eldritch about your powers. Clearly, you understand abstraction."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Vessel")
                "And? What is it that you are a vessel for, if we're being literal today?"
                
            *elseif (mask = "Leviathan")
                "And you are undersized for a leviathan, yet here we are."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Omen")
                "In that case, perhaps I should ask you what you portend, Omen."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Voidmaw")
                "And as best I can tell, you have no mouth to the abyss, Voidmaw."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Abyss")
                "It's not like you're a hole in the ground, Abyss. You're more oil dark than fathomless dark, too."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Outlier")
                "And in what experiment are you the outlier?"
                
                *goto tooclosetohome
                
            *elseif (mask = "Aberration")
                "If we're being literal today, should I be concerned for your self-esteem, Aberration?"
                
            *elseif (mask = "Carrion")
                "Look who's talking. You don't look like roadkill to me."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Faust")
                "Oh? And which devil is it you've struck a bargain with?"
                
            *elseif (mask = "Tyto")
                "Looks who's talking. Owls have wings, last I checked."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Paradox")
                "And? What's so paradoxical about you?
                
            *elseif (mask = "Eclipse")
                "Yes, and best I can tell, you're neither the sun nor moon, Eclipse, yet here we are."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Arachnid")
                @{(speciality = 2) They tilt their head, taking a moment to reply. "I suppose you do have the correct number of limbs for your own name..."|"Says the person with two fewer limbs than fits their name."}
                
            *elseif (mask = "Coleoid")
                @{(speciality = 3) "And? Shouldn't you have a soft shell? Glass houses."|"I suppose your own name is fairly illustrative, Coleoid."}
                
            *elseif (mask = "Patroclus")
                "So you mean to say I should be worried about an Achilles."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Ghosdeeri")
                "Yes, and best I can tell, you're neither a ghost nor a deer, Ghosdeeri, yet here we are."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Blackstar")
                "Look who's talking. You may be dark, but you're not a star. Clearly, you understand abstraction."
                
            *elseif (mask = "Warp")
                "And are you a teleporter? No? Well then."
            
            *elseif (mask = "Vivisect")
                "Then am I to take your own name as a confession? If you mean to operate, I've beaten you to it."
                
            *elseif (diming)
                @{(mask = "Dime") "And you're not a coin, yet here we are."|"And? What paradigm are you meant to represent?"}
                
            *else
                "I could ask the same of you, $!{mask}. Wouldn't 'tentacle beast' be more appropriate?"
                
            *if (expressive > 69)
                "Fair enough, maybe we both need to take it to the workshop—"
                
                *goto donewdialogue
                
            *gosub literallyoneline          
            
            You hesitate, trying to come up with something else to say and drawing a blank. Cannibal avails themself of the opportunity to charge at you.
            
            *goto donewdialogue
            
        *else
            "Damn, buddy, are you due an oil change or something?" you call out. "If you need to make a pit stop, I think there's a gas station a couple blocks from here."
            
            Cannibal pauses midstride. Something reminiscent of a quizzical smile crosses their metal-split face.
            
            "You talk a lot for @{speciality a beached squid."|a walking circus sideshow."|an oversized beetle."|DUMMY}
            
            *gosub literallyoneline

            "And here I was watching out for your maintenance. Heck, while I'm giving advice, wouldn't something like 'Salvage' be a better fit? It's not like you eat people."
            
            *goto cannibalnamecomments
            
            *label donewdialogue
            @{(expressive <31) Fortunately, you see it coming.|Done with the the dialogue, Cannibal charges.} From a standing start, it takes a hair too long for them to build momentum, and you're able to evade with ease, pivoting away and allowing yourself to fall back. You've immediate cause to be grateful you made your profile as small as possible, as a crackling arc of electricity splits the air inches from your face. Cannibal has a lot of tools in their kit.
            
            Yeah, you suppose talking the mecha-mutant to distraction was a long shot.
            *set expressive %+ 10
            
            *goto cushion
            
    #Lock in. No distractions.
        You're not going to talk Cannibal to death. @{(expressive > 70) You can save the choice one liners for another time.|Words will only be a distraction.}
        
        Holding position, you let them advance, giving off your best 'implacable mask' aura. 
        
        Surprisingly—Cannibal doesn't strike you as the type to be intimidated—they draw to a halt a couple of metres back, eyeing you quizzically.
        
        "I do wonder what makes your powers tick," they murmur.
        
        *gosub literallyoneline
        
        Yet soft as their words are, the clinical air sends a chill down your spine. You interacted with Hypothesis far too recently to tolerate scholarly interest.
        
        You react almost too late. Cannibal rushes you, and you pivot away from the charge, allowing yourself to fall back and clear of them. Moments later, a crackling arc of electricity splits the air inches from your face. They've got a lot of tools in their kit.
        
        If you'd been caught up talking to them, you don't think you'd have moved in time.
        
        *goto cushion
    
    #Go still and silent, giving off no tells. I'll bait them in.
        *set silentstill true
        You don't need a poker face with your membrane how it is, but you don one anyway. It's about the mentality.
        
        Cannibal advances. You don't move a muscle.
        
        You're @{speciality the statue of a mad sculptor.|a stitched-together exhibit at the circus sideshow. Only this monster is real.|an empty suit of armour.|DUMMY} You watch Cannibal, and you wait.
        
        They halt.
        
        "If you're trying to intimidate me, you're wasting your time," they say.
        
        *gosub literallyoneline
        
        You hold your reaction. They've strayed closer than they think, almost, almost in your range. One step, perhaps one and a half.
        
        *if expressive > 70
            "And if you're trying to catch me by surprise," they continue. "Your tentacles are moving."
            
            What? [i]Dammit![/i] You quell the involuntary motions too late, and in that moment of distraction, Cannibal rushes at you.
            
        *else
            They consider you a moment. Then break into a charge.
            
        *set expressive %- 10
        It's from a standing start, and they take a hair too long to build momentum. There's no opportunity for a counter attack, all you can do is pivot to the side, allowing yourself to fall back and clear of them. Moments later, a crackling arc of electricity splits the air inches from your face. They've got a lot of tools in their kit.
        
        Looks like you'll have to do this the hard way.
        
        *goto cushion
   
        

*label literallyoneline
Their voice is a gentle tenor, fully at odds with the mechanical bulk of their cyborg frame.
*return

*label cushion
You cushion yourself on your tendrils, avoiding another close encounter with the asphalt. Cannibal's shoulder, open and exposing a rat's nest of wires—you don't want to know how that manages to shoot lightning—crawls like a living thing, crackling with its current. Behind them, glass shatters as an object whizzes through a window, too quickly to identify. Seems Architect and Fracture haven't pinned Rocket down yet.

Technically, you shouldn't be facing off against Cannibal alone. The original plan had you and Rampage dealing with them as a pair. Unfortunately, Rampage never even made it to the rendezvous; a 'concerned citizen' recognised her en route and called in the Hounds. The only option was to bail before the heroes came down on her head. She's probably halfway across the city by now.

@{(instinctive < 35) You'd have called the mission off. Reset and execute properly on another day. Architect had other ideas.|Surprisingly, Architect had chosen to go ahead with the mission anyway.} You thought him more cautious than that. Maybe you should consider it a vote of confidence in your abilities.

Alternatively, he's throwing you to the wolves. @{(expressive > 60) Cyber-wolf.|}

*if (juice < 11)
    As for you, knowing you had a fight on your hands and running on just about empty, you reluctantly took your Juice ahead of time.
    *choice
        *selectable_if (vials = 2) #@{(vials = 2) Good thing I made my supply last. I drank the regular Juice.|Unfortunately, I didn't have any of the regular Juice left.}
            *goto regularjuice
            
        #@{(vials = 1) The 'enhanced' Juice was my only option.|I drank the 'enhanced' Juice.}
            *goto enhancedjuice

*else 
    As for you, knowing you'd have a fight on your hands, you chose to…
    *choice
        #Drink the 'enhanced' Juice.
            *label enhancedjuice
            *set vials -1
            *set juice 100
            *set enhanced1 true
            And it was a rush like nothing else.
            
            The energy spike of the regular Juice doesn't even come close. In the moments after drinking, you felt like a car on rocket fuel, like you could punch through walls with your bare hands. The rest of the world almost seemed to move in slow motion.
            
            There's always been a delay between dosing and getting into the action. You drank so recently the buzz has barely faded. @{silentstill No wonder your tendrils gave the game away; it's a miracle you could even stand still.|You're practically vibrating in place.} @{speciality Producing your nodes was, you hesitate to say smooth, but probably the closest you'll ever get. And you're... tuned into them, cutting out their noise into pure signal. |Keeping the mutations under control was even harder than usual. Just as well they're what you want. And the changes were very nearly painless. Nearly.|Forming your carapace was smooth, without the slightest strain. You can scarcely feel the weight of it.|DUMMY}
            
            You've harnessed the storm. Better keep a tight grip on those reins.
            
            *goto firstcannibaloption
        *selectable_if (vials = 2) #Drink the regular Juice that I'd conserved from earlier. @{(vials = 2) |What's that? I didn't? Guess I didn't drink it either then.}
            *label regularjuice
            *set vials -1
            @{(juice < 11) The cravings were getting to be unbearable, your powers' hunger gnawing at you relentlessly, hunting for sustenance.|The cravings had been surprisingly manageable, something you endured rather than suffered through.}
            *set juice 100
            
            You've got the familiar thrum in your veins. You've never dosed and then immediately got into the action before. Your pulse is racing like a maddened squirrel. @{silentstill No wonder your tendrils gave the game away; it's a miracle you could even stand still.|At least you've got a target for all these nervous energy.}
            
            @{speciality For once, making the nodes was relatively smooth. Relatively.|Letting the mutations out was very nearly painless.|Forming your carapace was about as easy as it's ever been.|DUMMY}
            
            *goto firstcannibaloption
        #Avoid drinking Juice anyway, even if I knew I'd be running on fumes.
            *set runningonfumes true
            *set dependence -2
            And you really, [i]really[/i] are. Though you're putting your best foot forward, fatigue is already dogging your heels, weighing you down despite the fight barely having started. A sharp-edged hunger crowds at the edge of your senses, prickling across your skin. @{speciality Getting those nodes out|Feeding these fresh changes|Armouring yourself|DUMMY} took a massive chunk out of what reserves you had remaining, but not using your powers to their full extent would have been too suspicious.
            
            @{speciality [i]eat. eat. hungry. eat. eat.[/i]|Hopefully your altered body obscures that its tremors are nothing short of exhaustion.|Hopefully you don't collapse under the weight of your own armour.|DUMMY}
            
            *if ((juice > 50) and (halpmecg = false))
                It's… dispiriting to have taken such pains to depend on your powers—and by extension the Juice—as little as possible and still ended up struggling in this way. Even still, you'd like to think that it's not your imagination that the cravings are not quite so intense as in the past.
                
                They're not, right?
                
                *if (juice > 70)
                    *set dependence -2
                    
                *else
                    *set dependence -1
                
            Concentrate. Cannibal's only getting closer.
            
            *goto firstcannibaloption

    

*label firstcannibaloption
*choice
    *if (instinctive > 70)
        #Push the pace, not allowing myself to overthink any move I make.
            *set advantage true
            It's what you do best.
            
            You don't wait for Cannibal to close in. Your turn now.
            
            A brief flash of surprise on their face. Then, eagerness. Doesn't matter. You ram bodily into them hard enough to knock them back a step. They grab hold of you, tossing you aside, but you just rebound and reposition with your tendrils and launch straight back onto the offensive. Cannibal reacts late, and you nearly put them on the floor with a low, diving dropkick into their misproportioned knee. Another tendril boost bounces you away from any counter-attack, leaving Cannibal to lurch unsteadily upright.
            
            It's not recklessness, nor mindless aggression. You're attacking because it makes sense to keep them off balance. They could have any number of secret weapons and dirty tricks up their non-existent sleeves. You can't counter those, so the next best thing is to prevent their use.
            
            That's intuition talking, anyway, and you heed it, pressing and pressing again. You strike from every angle, smoothly flowing from one position to the next, mixing up close quarters combat with little bursts of tendrils and @{speciality the nodes as extra sets of eyes, warning of the blows you don't see coming.|mutation-bolstered striking.|carapace-boosted bodychecks.|DUMMY} Cannibal is faster than they look, but they're also cumbersome, and you're not allowing them an inch of space to operate. A blade flashes from one arm, another arc of electricity jolts from their shoulder, they swing for the fences with rights and lefts, and they still can't land a solid hit on you.
            
            Then they roar in frustration, and their arm unhinges, revealing the barrel of a huge embedded gun.
            
            Inches from your face.
            
            Ah.
            
            Survival instincts kick in and you hurl yourself to the ground as the weapon fires with a thud-thud-thud, putting fist-sized holes in an SUV on the opposite side of the street. You continue evasive action, getting well clear of that particular piece of hardware, heart hammering a thousand miles per hour.
            
            Okay, well, proves the point about secret weapons. Does that still technically count as up their sleeve if it's inside their arm? Is their arm, technically speaking, their sleeve?
            
            Questions for later, you just hope it doesn't reload too fast. You've done good work so far, but it's not over yet.
            
            *goto round2cannibal

    *elseif ((instinctive < 30))
        #Take a measured, defensive approach, aiming to pick them apart.
            *set rocketprogress +1
            With no @{runningonfumes backup and almost an empty tank,|backup,} it pays to be cautious. Slow and steady may not win the race, but nor will it crash straight into the souped-up death car waiting at the finish line.
            
            That's how rally racing works, right?
            
            You hold your ground, and Cannibal needs no further invitation, charging once again. It's ungainly, lopsided, and far faster than you'd ever expect. Still, poised and ready, the only way the headlong rush will connect is if you let it.
            
            Which, obviously, would be stupid. You dart clear of Cannibal with enough time to spare that they don't even bother going for the electrical attack again, just grind themself to a lurching halt.
            
            Filing a mental note about the likely range of that particular ability, you set yourself opposite Cannibal again. They look mildly irritated now, and their next advance is more cautious, stymieing any further bullfighting from you.
            
            Time to get your hands dirty.
            
            For the next few minutes, you frustrate and thwart, passing up any opening that isn't one hundred percent clean. Cannibal swings and you block. They deploy a weapon, and you evade. When chances present themselves, you strike with pinpoint precision. It's a nigh flawless defensive display, and Cannibal grows increasingly scrappy as you continue to deny their every effort. The more reckless they get, the more opportunities you have, and still you keep patient, refusing to overreach or take risks.
            
            Cannibal throws a punch so wild they nearly spin a 180. You spring forward for a counterstrike—with a howl of gears, they about face, impossibly quickly, grasping to rip you limb from limb—
            
            You allow yourself a smile. Saw it coming.
            
            Before Cannibal can lay a hand on you, your tendrils strike like vipers, slamming into their head from both sides with a crunch. Metal buckles under the impact, and they stumble, almost falling, knocked loopy.
            
            Still you hold back, and it's well you do, because Cannibal's arm suddenly unhinges, and you're facing down the barrel of a gun. You twist, and one, two, three blasts go wild, putting fist-sized holes in an SUV on the opposite side of the street. 
            
            As if you needed any more incentive to keep your guard at maximum. Cannibal steadies themself, shaking off the cobwebs, firming their stance back up. It's going to take more than one good hit to put them down.
            
            *goto reloadpow
            
    *else
        #Remain flexible and balanced, ready to go on offence or defend myself as necessary.
            *set rocketprogress +1
            There's no point putting all your @{(speciality = 1) nodes|eggs} in one basket. So early in the fight, it'd be foolish to commit all the way to one strategy.
            
            Keep calm, and take the opportunities as they arise.
            
            In truth, staying flexible results in a largely defensive effort. It's difficult to set Cannibal on the back foot when they can deploy another weapon at any moment and any angle. On multiple occasions, you think you've got a clean shot, only for their body to disgorge a spike, shift its armour, or simply fail to register the impact of a hit. Shaking feeling back into a hand reverberating with a misplaced punch, you grimly reflect that Cannibal's reputation isn't for show. Can't forget that this is somebody that the DPR specifically stopped sending augments against, lest they end up on the receiving end of Cannibal's mecha-butchery.
            
            Thankfully, it's pretty difficult to interpret your own powers as cybernetic. You don't need them getting any more incentive to take you apart.
            
            But just in case, you'd best not give them the chance. They might decide to check there's nothing mechanical beneath those gooey outer layers.
            
            A blade flashes from Cannibal's arm, and you contort out of its path with a clip to the shoulder just shy of inflicting some real damage.
            
            Case in point.
            
            Wounding you, even superficially, has Cannibal scenting blood in the water. They press aggressively, slashing the armblade with more and more power, putting you on the retreat. Each slash scythes through the air in front of you, inches from biting home.
            
            Back up much more, and they'll corner you. Can't let that happen.
            
            Dodging again, you feign a stumble. Cannibal seizes on the bait, winding up for an overhead slash fit to cleave you in twain.
            
            Obviously, you're not there when they swing, ghosting to one side. Cannibal slams the blade into the ground with force and a discordant metal screech, and as they reel, off-balance and out of position, you unleash a flurry of pinpoint blows, picking out the spots you know are flesh and blood.
            
            There aren't many, but there's enough to make it hurt, pounding a fist into their throat, a kidney, square on the nose. They're struggling to defend themselves or cover up as you press in, relentless, nearly knocking them down with a brutal side kick. Almost, almost— 
            
            *goto beforeanyideas
            
    #@{(brutal < 3) Cannibal's dangerous and I can't afford to go soft on them. Get vicious.|I've been itching to get violent with someone. Cannibal can take it.} @{(psycho > 1) And if they can't...|}
        *set cannibalscore +1
        *set brutal +2
        *set gotviolentcan true
        @{(psycho > 1) ...that's not your problem.|}
        
        *gosub gettingviolent
        
        *label beforeanyideas
        Before you can get any ideas about finishing them, Cannibal's bladed arm suddenly unhinges at the elbow, revealing the barrel of a gun, point blank. You duck as the weapon roars, narrowly missing out on blowing your head clean off, and you keep moving as it fires twice more, scampering clear as best you can. 
        
        Their shots fired, Cannibal faces you again, @{gotviolentcan breathing hard and bleeding heavily,|breathing hard and clearly hurting,} but still very much active. This isn't done just yet.
        
        *goto reloadpow
    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 3) and (fighting_style = 2)) #Trust my carapace to keep me safe while hunting for an advantage. [Combo: Carapace + Adaptable]
            *set harmony +1
            *achieve synergy
            *set juice -10
            *set cannibalscore +1
            *set carapaceuse true
            In theory, your carapace @{(instinctive > 60) allows you to fuck around longer before the finding out|affords you broader tolerance for risks.}
            
            For some reason, that reassurance rings a little hollow when a metal hulk is throwing fists at your skull like jackhammers. Heck, from the sounds of hissing pistons and clanging iron, that may even be literal. The good news is that the armour is indeed proof against the worst of Cannibal's punches. The bad news? It's [i]kind of hard to concentrate[/i] on clever ploys while getting pounded like a cheap steak.
            
            @{(expressive > 70) You almost laugh at your own phrasing before another bone-rattling hit reminds you this [i]is not the time, $!{mc_name}[/i]|Uh, phrasing—oh shit they're swinging at you again—} 
            
            In those moments your inner monologue is neither screaming nor making questionable analogies, you hunt for something, anything that can give you the upper hand. You defend yourself of course; you're not just going to stand there and let them hit you, but there's little bite to your own strikes; you wouldn't be shocked to hear you're hitting more plating and reinforced synthskin than actual flesh and blood.
            
            Hm. They're stitched together. Patchwork. That—you dip your head to avoid getting smacked in the face—that could be something. If you don't get brained first.
            
            Exchanging a thumping blow to the chest for a couple seconds' inspection of Cannibal's ramshackle hide, the neurons start firing. Yeah. Yeah. Alright.
            
            Soaking another hit on the armour—can't take too many more of those—you step into what would be grappling range if you @{(expressive > 45) also happened to be a sumo.|were about three feet taller and a hundred-fifty pounds heavier.}
            
            The rest is all anticipation.
            
            Cannibal swipes at you, hand crackling. Instead of dodging, you slam both arms into theirs, deflecting the strike down. Directly into their own oversized leg. 
            
            An augment with an electrical ability would be insulated, grounded. An augment with an electric weapon bolted onto them, not so much. Cannibal howls as they shock themself. Something explodes with the pop of a blown fuse as Cannibal goes reeling backwards, wrenching their sparking hand away with considerable effort and a slew of curses.
            
            *goto beforefinish
            
    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 3) and (fighting_style = 3)) #Utilising my powered expertise, subtly strengthen my carapace and bait Cannibal into overextending. [Combo: Carapace + Wielder]
            *set harmony +1
            *achieve synergy
            *set juice -10
            *set cannibalscore +1
            *set carapaceuse true
            Day after day of practice, experimenting with the thickness of your carapace, the shape, how quickly you can form and retract it. Having a goal kept you sane, kept your mind from wandering too far. $!{cg} trained you in the best use of your powers, and you took her training a step further.
            
            It wasn't as if you had anything else to do.
            
            When you first started out, any improvements to the armour's strength came at the expense of bulk and weight, leaving you to flail helplessly as $!{cg} ran rings around you, too slow to keep up. Over time, you refined your technique, learned how to temper the alterations and make the carapace more protective without turning yourself into a tortoise on two legs.
            
            As you and Cannibal circle one another warily, you concentrate on your shell, feeling it as a part of you. Steadily, you suffuse it with more and more energy, making the armour denser and sturdier while sacrificing little in the way of mobility. And, more importantly, without altering the outward appearance. All the while, you feint and jockey for position with Cannibal; you can't have them suspect you're up to something.
            
            Maintaining this level of focus isn't easy. Your carapace actively pulls against you, wanting to snap back to its natural state, straining like a taut elastic band.
            
            No time to lose.
            
            Stepping towards Cannibal, you throw a testing combination of punches, swiping a tendril at them for good measure. They simply tank every hit, shrugging them off like so much rainwater and forcing you to retreat before they take your head off with a counter.
            
            *if guts < 20
                Honestly? About what you expected.
             
            *elseif guts < 40
                Damn. You didn't pull those either.
                
            *else
                You're glad you have a plan, because considering how strong you are, that's faintly terrifying.
                
            Getting in close and breaking the deadlock is what matters, though, and now that you're in reach, Cannibal seems more than happy to stop circling and start swinging. You defend yourself, blocking viciously powerful strikes in succession. Then, an opening. Cannibal goes for a body blow and you let it happen. Their fist slams into your chest, and stops dead as it thunks into the extra-dense carapace.
            
            Surprise registers on their face in the moment before you jam a clawed hand into it. They curse and splutter, staggering back with blood streaming into their eyes, and you gouge a deep furrow into their side.
            
            *label beforefinish
            Before you can finish the job, Cannibal's lower arm unhinges, and you're facing down the barrel of a gun. You twist, and one, two, three blasts go wild, putting fist-sized holes in an SUV on the opposite side of the street. 
            
            You, ah, are not sure the carapace would have held up to that. @{(speciality = 3) Speaking of… allowing your grip on its density to lapse brings tangible relief as it reverts to normal; the trick is played, and you don't want to exhaust yourself.|Especially not with the beating it's already taken. You're unharmed, but you need to regenerate a bit before tanking more damage.} You resume facing off with a Cannibal who doubtless now has a much healthier respect for the threat you pose. 
            
            *label reloadpow
            Hopefully that thing in their arm doesn't reload quickly.
            
            *goto round2cannibal
               
            
    *selectable_if (enhanced1) #Let's see what the new Juice is capable of, shall we?
        *set juicingup +1
        
        Power and potential course through membrane and flesh. Cannibal only managed to punt you out here because it's your job to keep them busy. If you'd wanted to dig in your heels, you could have fended them off.
        
        You can do anything you want.
        
        In. Out. In. Out. Each breath a ripple of what lies at your fingertips.
        
        Cannibal continues to advance, and you let them come. Earlier wasn't serious, nothing but mind games. Cannibal winds up their next attack with the confidence they've already seen what you're capable of. 
        
        Their mistake.
        
        *label juicecannibal
        It's effortless. Your tendrils slam down into the concrete ahead of you, thick as treetrunks at the weight of a thought. Cannibal slams into the newfound barrier and you [i]pulse[/i], the tendrils erupting with ichorous spikes, thudding into Cannibal's flesh. They retreat, snarling in pain, and you withdraw your tendrils as easily as breathing, shrinking back to their usual size and shape in seconds. Before Cannibal can attempt anything else, you propel yourself at them, almost gliding. Cannibal swings, and you catch their arm like a child's, grabbing the other with similar ease. Their shoulder again disgorges its livewire cargo, and you merely envelop it with an extension of your membrane, smothering it like a fire blanket. Electricity crackles through the membrane. You barely feel it. Certainly doesn't hurt.
        
        Cannibal stares with something like horror. "You aren't—"
        
        What you are not supposed to be is rendered a mystery as you drag them inward into a rocket-launcher of a kick. Metal and bone crack as part of their torso crumples, the impact sending them skidding halfway up the street on their back. See how they like it.
        
        You set your foot back on the ground almost delicately, the vestiges of the Juice-amplified attack fading with a tingle. It's hard not to get giddy, hard not to let yourself run away with the power. But heck, can't you indulge a little? You didn't even hit Cannibal as hard as you could have; you're practically restrained.
        
        So.
        
        Who's next?
        
        *goto insidersection
        
    #I'm confident I can win in a straight fight.
        How tough can they really be? They're practically held together with duct tape.
        
        Cannibal advances, and you move to meet them head-on.
        
        As that predator's grin stretches back across their face, they wind up to throw a jackhammer of a punch. They're expecting you to dodge, not block.
        
        *if ((guts > 30) or (fighting_style = 1))
            *set cannibalscore +1
            And if they expected you to block, they did not expect that you would manage to intercept the blow with both arms, and stay standing.
            
            Stunned by the resistance, Cannibal's a sitting duck for a counter; you aim high on their torso, where the plating is sparser, are rewarded with the thud of your knee against ribs, rather than cold steel.
            
            You continue to press, relying on @{(guts < 31) technique as much as muscle.|muscle and grit.} Cannibal's strikes are met with sturdy parries, their weaponry @{(guts < 31) by outright forcing the attacks aside; they can't swing an armblade at you if you're grappling the arm itself.|neutralised with clever grappling; they can't swing an armblade at you if you've got their arm all tied up with your own.} Cannibal doesn't seem to know how to handle you standing toe-to-toe, much less that you're absorbing the punishment and paying it back in kind. @{runningonfumes Sustaining this is taking a lot of the little you have left to give,|Truthfully, you're not sure how long you can keep it up,} but you can tell how rattled they are to be @{(guts < 31) overpowered|outmatched in hand-to-hand}.
            
            Their crumbling composure is pretty damn satisfying to see.
            
            Cannibal's head snaps forward. Skulls collide with a crack, and suddenly you're stumbling, off balance, ears ringing. A fist pistons on unerring course towards your head—  
            
            You catch it, punch Cannibal's throat with a tendril, then slam an elbow into their face so hard you hear something crack. They stagger, teeter, somehow manage not to fall, even with their lower jaw now hanging at a visible misalignment.
            
            Credit where it's due, they're one tough bastard. 
            
            *goto beforeanyideas
            
        *elseif guts > 20
            The full force of the blow slams into your raised arms, almost dropping you to the ground.
            
            Ah.
            
            Mistakes may have been made.
            
            Stumbling aside from Cannibal's next strike barely construes a dodge, but it's just enough to avoid a smashed skull. Unfortunately, having waded into close quarters, there's no easy way out of their reach. Nothing for it but to fight and wait for an opportunity.
            
            It's not the most fun you've had in a brawl. Cannibal is brutally strong and faster than they look; any hit that lands sticks hard, and you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Evasive action prevents you from fighting back, blocking a blow requires planted feet and a combination of arms and tendrils just so you don't get knocked down, leaving you without a limb spare to strike. Whatever sparse punches and kicks you throw are mere nuisances. Turns out the duct tape is holding Cannibal's cybernetic body together good and tight.
            
            Something needs to change, or they're just going to grind you @{runningonfumes down.|down. And there isn't all that much to grind.}. They've barely used any of their weaponised augments, beyond taking swipes with a blade emerging from an arm.
            
            *label swingsforyou
            Cannibal swings for you again. @{(mc_health = 2) Abandoning all defence, you go for broke. The punch thuds into your ribs with brutal force, but you've finally got an opening, hammering your fist into their throat. Choking, Cannibal falters, and you know it's the one shot you're going to get, ramming|Instead of blocking, you wrap your tendrils around their arm and hold it, ignoring the pain as the blade digs deep into your flesh. The punch thuds painfully into your ribs, but crucially, your hands are free. It's the one shot you've had, and you make it count, slamming an elbow into Cannibal's throat,} a knee into the single soft section of their gut, and then smashing that same knee into their head as they double over.
            
            There's a spray of sickly pale blood from their nose as your knee snaps them back upright, stumbling and reeling. Scenting vulnerability, you press the attack, relentless—
            
            *goto beforeanyideas
            
        *else
            *set mc_health 2
            *set injurydesc 6
            *set rocketprogress +1
            Though, frankly, calling the defence you mount a 'block' is too generous, as Cannibal's swing crushes through your raised arms and drives you to the ground.
            
            Okay, you won't lie. That confidence may have been misplaced.
            
            [i]Move![/i] 
            
            You roll to the left. Cannibal's fist thuds into the space you just vacated, spraying fragments of broken asphalt. Scrambling aside and upright, there's not a moment to breathe as Cannibal rounds on you and keeps coming. Having waded into close quarters, you find yourself trapped at that range, unable to disengage; as soon as you turn away, they'll break you in half.
            
            Not that it's much better to be stuck in a brawl against an opponent you're swiftly realising is both far stronger than you and a lot faster than they look. Again and again, Cannibal's punches break through your defences to thump home, and it's all you can do to stay upright; go down again, and you're not getting back up. Forget winning the fight, you're in pure survival mode. Each narrow dodge piles atop the mounting desperation. Cannibal's not even using their weaponised augments, beyond taking swipes with a blade built into their arm.
            
            One such slash scores across your shoulder, @{(speciality = 3) biting through the plate|parting the membrane}. Cannibal lifts their arm, displaying the ichor dripping down the blade, and smirks. They're toying with you.
            
            This keeps up, you'll be smashed to paste and cut to ribbons. Something needs to change.
            
            *goto swingsforyou
        
    #I've got my powers, I know how I fight. Let's count on the fundamentals.
        
        *set juice -5
        
        *if fighting_style = 1
            *set thebasics true
            @{speciality You don't need the nodes for this. You're a fighter, and Cannibal is a machine.|You've had a little time to acclimatise to the latest mutations and you're feeling if not comfortable, then [i]situated[/i]. Crucially, you know where your body's weight is sitting and your centre of gravity, and that opens you up to brawl without the risk of a faceplant.|The carapace isn't for show. If it can't soak up some punishment while you fight, then what's the point?|DUMMY}

            Closing the distance of your own accord, you throw out a testing combination of strikes, @{speciality ensuring your footwork stays agile.|exploiting this body's extended reach to give you an edge.|positioning yourself such that the thickest parts of your carapace are forward.|DUMMY} Cannibal absorbs the impacts easily enough, but absorbs is just the word; there's no hand-to-hand technique whatsoever. They barely put up a guard.
            
            It's just like $!{cg} told you; a lot of parahumans can't throw a punch worth shit.
            
            Finding your range, you pepper Cannibal like a heavy bag, working them over with lefts, rights, elbows, knees. Where they strike back, you shift gears, utilising tendrils to block or make space, sticking well clear of whatever weapons they attempt to deploy. You're none too interested in testing your membrane against that razor sharp blade emerging from the back of their arm, for instance.
            
            Downside: despite teeing off on Cannibal, you're not inflicting significant damage. For every blow that connects solid, you thud twice into unforgiving plating or reinforced synthskin, and they continue to stand tall.
            
            You grimace. Technically, you only need to keep Cannibal busy, and all these hits are going to add up eventually, but it's going to be a long, exhausting grind.
            
            While you contemplate shifting tactics, Cannibal jumps the gun. As you clobber them in the jaw with a tendril, Cannibal stumbles, and then one of their arms suddenly unhinges at the elbow, the barrel of a weapon yawning open like a pit. You hurl yourself aside as it fires with a thud-thud-thud, punching fist-sized holes in an SUV parked across the street.
            
            @{(expressive > 40) Heh. 'Jumps the gun'.|Too close.}
            
            @{(expressive > 40) You shake yourself. Focus.|} Climbing to your feet, you face them again. Definitely breathing more heavily, so you are getting somewhere, just not very quickly.
            
            *goto reloadpow

            
        *elseif fighting_style = 2
            @{speciality You don't bring the nodes in just yet; there's plenty in your environment without playing the trump card so early.|You've got a whole new body to play with. Adaptability is your speciality, so... time to adapt.|While in theory you could buy time with the carapace, soaking up punishment while hunting for opportunities, letting Cannibal tee off freely on you sounds like just about the least fun you can have in a fight.|DUMMY}
            
            Keeping Cannibal at arm's length is straightforward; you're vastly more agile, and though you're tempted to go for a quick knockout, you know that their augments will make them far too durable for that. So, for the time being, you stall, sounding out their capabilities, defending and studying in equal measure. Despite their bulk, they're faster than they look, and several of their pistoning punches or arm-blade slashes come far too close for comfort.
            
            There's no technique to Cannibal. They're brute force and an overflowing arsenal; throw enough weapons at the opponent, and something will stick. The relentless, reckless offence affords several easy opportunities for you to counterpunch or strike with a tendril, though true to expectations, you're more stinging them than damaging them. It swiftly grows clear just how much of Cannibal's body is either armour plated or coated in reinforced synthskin.
            
            You'll need to up the ante.
            
            *gosub fullmount
            
            *set thebasics true
            Wrestling with an arm now bending in all the wrong places, you hold the weapon at bay just long enough to abandon ship. It fires with a thud-thud-thud as you scramble clear of Cannibal, the projectiles whistling past your head, barely missing on taking more than a few inches off the top. If not for them trying to aim from the ground, you'd be swiss cheese. Needless to say, you show Cannibal healthy respect and a wide berth as they slowly clamber back to their feet, the fight resetting to neutral. @{(instinctive > 60) Have to watch out in case they pull a rocket launcher out of their ass next.|Need to be wary of any more unpleasant surprises.}
            
            You're not sure how effective that really was. Cannibal seems winded at best, sporting just a handful of welts and bruises. The skin on one cheek has split open, but they're not even bleeding. Given the underwhelming damage and their enhanced caution, you might end up burning a lot of time while you search for openings. Good if you only want to keep them busy, not so great if you want to dispense with them and lend your teammates a hand.
            
            *goto reloadpow

        *else
            *set thebasics true
            @{speciality No need for the nodes just yet, not when you've got room to be creative. Besides, your powers stretch much further than just nodes, don't they?|You didn't let your mutations off the leash so they could serve as a conversation piece. Nor are they the only weapon in your arsenal.|Armoured up as you are, it's easy to fall into a trap and forget that you still have access to all the rest of your powers. In actuality, the extra protection affords you more options than ever.|DUMMY}
            
            Cannibal moves in, and you send a ripple through your tendrils, testing and twisting them. There's a shape they want to be, a shape they default to, but that's far from immutable.
            
            You've done this before.
            
            Another ripple. Cannibal gets closer. You spot a glint on, inside one of their arms; a blade embedded in the flesh. They're drawing back, preparing to slash at you.
            
            Your tendrils, hardened and sharpened through will alone snap forward. Cannibal's weapon clashes into them, rebounding with a reverberating clang. You spare yourself the smallest smile at the surprise on the cyborg's face, and then go on the offensive, tendrils weaving through the air, slicing and dicing. In the face of such commanding reach, Cannibal can only yield ground as you lash at them with one knife-edged tendril after another.
            
            Downside: they're quick enough to stay mostly clear and resilient enough that when you do manage a cut, it's only surface level. Worse yet, the shallow grazes barely seem to bleed; some augment or another no doubt. While keeping them on the back foot is better than being on the defensive, you're not inflicting much damage at all. You imagine you'll eventually manage to corner them and come out on top, but chasing them down is going to eat up a lot of time and energy. Fine if you only want to keep Cannibal busy, not so great if you want to dispense with them and lend your teammates a hand.
            
            As you continue to harass Cannibal with the tendrils, their eyes narrow. Your next slash thuds into a raised arm, biting deep, but then they bring up the opposite arm, which unhinges at the elbow to reveal the barrel of a gun. You've a split second to react, shedding the embedded tendril tip and diving aside as the gun discharges with a thud-thud-thud, punching fist-sized holes in an SUV parked across the street. 
            
            Too damn close.
            
            You regroup at a respectful distance, rolling your truncated tendril with a grimace. That hurt, but better a little pain than your organs becoming an open-air arrangement. Opposite you, Cannibal's looking mildly worse for wear. There's nothing stopping you from picking up where you left off, it just won't be a quick fight.
            
            *goto reloadpow
            
    *selectable_if (runningonfumes) #I need to conserve as much energy as possible. Play it safe.
        *set rocketprogress +1
        *set takingitslow true
        Ideally, you'd blitz through Cannibal and get right to helping the others win this fight. Realistically, there's a genuine risk that you'll keel over if you push yourself too hard, and the second [i]that[/i] happens…
        
        Well, Cannibal's not the only one who'd take any opportunity to feast, are they?
        
        *gosub takingitslow
        
        Cannibal lunges and manages to snatch you by the shoulder. You twist in their grasp and bring your tendrils to bear, prising yourself loose like a slippery, bipedal eel—weird mental image—and then using the appendages to boost clear of Cannibal's reach.
        
        Which, apparently, was what they were waiting for.
        
        Cannibal's arm unhinges at the elbow, revealing the barrel of a huge embedded gun. You hurl yourself aside as it fires with a thud-thud-thud, punching fist-sized holes in an SUV parked across the street.
        
        Yeah. Energy conservation takes a backseat to not getting aerated.
        
        Cannibal glowers at yet another failed attack. You run an eye across them, noting that they're breathing hard, even sweating a little with exertion. Either that or they've sprung a coolant leak. You're getting somewhere, despite the lack of offence.
        
        You really hope that thing in their arm isn't quick to reload.
        
        *goto round2cannibal
    
    
*label round2cannibal  
    
*choice
    #@{gotviolentcan They're wounded. Why change what's working?|Clearly, I'm going to have to get more vicious to beat them.} @{(psycho > 1) Besides, the fighting has my blood up.|Whatever it takes.} 
        *set brutal +2
        *set cannibalscore +1
        
        *if (gotviolentcan)
            *set psycho +1
            This is no time for misplaced honour. You've clawed an advantage and you're damn well going to take it.
            
            Despite their injuries continuing to coagulate rapidly, Cannibal is favouring their wounded side, maintaining that angled stance to guard against further damage.
            
            Their mistake is assuming you intend to continue targeting the weak point.
            
            You caused that vulnerability in the first place. What's preventing you from tearing open another?
            
            Feinting a lunge at Cannibal's wound, you stop short, punishing their instinctive defensive movement with a quick jab to the throat. They try to reset their feet, and you flash your claws at their face, forcing them to jerk backward or get raked in the eyes. As they reel off balance, you jam a tendril into their mechanised leg, wedging it between the components and then beginning to prise.
            
            Nothing.
            
            Cannibal roars, striking furiously at you, but the angle is awkward and their footing unstable, robbing their attacks of much of their power. With the luxury of additional limbs, your defences remain sturdy while you continue to dismantle Cannibal's leg. The tortured metal creaks, buckles, and your tendril presses deeper. 
            
            Absolutely.
            
            Cannibal continues beating at you ineffectually as something [i]cracks[/i]. A strangled cry, and your tendril is suddenly inundated in a warm flood. Cannibal screws their eyes closed, draws themself up, and then swings for the fences with their arm blade. Just what you've been waiting for. Retracting the tendril in a shower of wrong-colour blood, you pivot, ducking under the blade, and then ram a fist directly into their injured side. Metal crunches under your knuckles, a gout of blood bursting around them. Cannibal makes a choked noise, their eyes roll, and they collapse with an almighty crash, tearing your hand loose in the process.
            
            Nothing.
            
            Your mouth twitches into a satisfied smirk. 
            
            *goto canonfloor
            
        *else
            Keeping the moral high ground will avail you nothing if you wind up [i]in[/i] the ground.
            
            *gosub gettingviolent
            
            Alarm flashes across Cannibal's face as they lurch away. Sundered cabling sparks within the wound, blood bubbling, cracking, and popping. You must have hit something important. They attempt to open up some space with their blade, but with literal blood in the water, you've no intention of letting them regain their footing. Ducking beneath Cannibal's swing, you ram a fist directly into their injury. Metal crunches under your knuckles, a gout of blood bursting around them. Cannibal makes a choked noise, their eyes roll, and they collapse with an almighty crash, tearing your hand loose in the process.
            
            @{(expressive > 69) Hey, you found their force reset button.|Okay. That works.} Your hand is fully coated in their wrong-coloured blood, and with a grimace, you try ineffectually to shake it off.
            
            *label canonfloor
            On the floor, Cannibal is motionless save their shallow breathing. Given how quickly they seem to coagulate, you're reasonably confident they'll be fine without intervention.
            
            *goto downnotdone
            

    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 2) and (fighting_style = 1)) #I've got enough of a handle on these mutations to combo them with my best hand-to-hand techniques. [Combo: Mutations + Hand-to-hand]
            *achieve synergy
            *set juice -10
            *set cannibalscore +1
            *set harmony + 1
            You shift thoughtfully from foot to splay-clawed foot. 
        
            @{thebasics That was a practice run just now. You know the limits and the boundaries of the shape you've taken. Time to push them.|Yeah. You're good to go.}
        
            Seizing the initiative, you bound at Cannibal in loping strides. They brace, cybernetics humming, and you flow into a running front kick, catching them full in the chest, claws digging shallow divots in their flesh. You touch down, fully stable thanks to the sturdy base of your restructured foot, then transition directly into a back roundhouse. A little flashy, and pivoting is hard for the same reason landing was easy, but the altered configuration of your torso and hips allows far more torque. You connect, and Cannibal almost collapses, folding into the force of the impact.
            
            You move to continue the onslaught, and Cannibal lashes back with their bladed arm. @{gotviolentcan Again, you flip forward all four tendrils, and again|You flip all four tendrils forward and} the blade cuts deep, just shy of splitting your skull. Ichor drips onto your face as you struggle with them, blocking out the pain to hold them at bay. You drive a knee into their gut, force the arm and its blade to the side, and lunge, clamping their shoulder between your mutated jaws.
            
            It tastes of metal and oil. Acrid fluid hits your tongue, and even within a membranous maw, the taste is almost enough to gag.
        
            Cannibal roars in pain and you bite down, exerting every ounce of force in this outsized jaw. 
            
            First, buckling. Then, tearing.
            
            You wrench back, ripping out a chunk of their shoulder. Sparks and too-pale blood rain across your upper body and onto the ground. Cannibal lets out a choked noise and then drops, clutching at the wound.
            
            *if ((brutal > 3) or (psycho > 2))
                Grim satisfaction fills you. Try walking that off.
                
            *else
                That's… a lot more damage than you meant to inflict.
                
            You spit out the flesh in your mouth. It hits the asphalt with a clank. Any concerns over Cannibal's state are set to rest with a brief glance; they're coagulating absurdly quickly, and don't look at risk of bleeding out. You don't even want to think about how they managed to self-install that kind of hardware.
            
            *goto downnotdone

    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 2) and (fighting_style = 3)) #These mutations have untapped potential, and I'm going to wield it. [Combo: Mutations + Wielder]
            *set juice -10
            *set cannibalscore +1
            *set harmony +1
            *set gooped true
            
            *if (harmony = 1)
                *achieve synergy
                
            From the moment your latest changes manifested, you've felt a certain malleability within them. Altering the texture or configuration of your membrane is one thing, reshaping your tendrils another, but you can take it one step further.
            
            Become conscious of your body—all of your body—and breathe. Weave through membrane, flesh, and bone and, like a sculptor, apply the shaping touch, precisely where it is needed.
            
            Focus. Don't fight the change, move in tandem.
        
            Your tendrils shudder like a whole cluster of snakes.
        
            It feels like an upset stomach, clenching and convulsing. Just. In your tendrils. All four of them.
            
            Perhaps Cannibal realises you're up to something, starting towards you, but before they close half the distance, your tendrils curve to your front and unfurl, opening like blooming flowers.
            
            Or the hoods of cobras.
            
            With a gurgling chorus, you unleash a volley of ichor, each tendril spitting in tandem. Completely unprepared for such an attack, Cannibal takes the entire barrage full-on, the ichor splattering them in a rusty brown shower.
            
            You pause, regarding them with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Just because it came out of you doesn't mean you know its effects. @{(expressive > 69) Knowing your luck, it's some kind of mega-steroid and you're about to get pulverised.|At best, you can be reasonably confident it's not going to be anything pleasant.} Cannibal stumbles a couple of steps, regains balance, and then starts clawing at their goop-coated face. The ichor clings to their fingers and stretches, tacky as gum, and they snarl their displeasure. @{(psycho > 1) No flesh melting? A little disappointing.|It's not melting flesh then. There's a relief.}
            
            Still, they're blind and distracted. Opportunity. You charge, unleashing fists and tendrils—the latter trailing more gunk in their wake—in a full assault, battering Cannibal relentlessly as they struggle to cover from an attack they cannot see. @{(instinctive > 55) Nice to uncork for a change.|There are times to attack carefully, and this isn't one of them.} Desperate swipes of their blade whistle past, trivial to evade.
            
            Needless to say, what's left of the fight is short and ugly. With Cannibal almost defenceless, you simply demolish them, tripping them with tendrils they've no chance of countering and then standing over them and striking over and over again until they stop moving.
            
            You step back, breathing heavily. That unpleasant nausea still bubbles in places nausea really doesn't belong, and you swallow bile in too many gullets. A quick scan of Cannibal confirms that the ichor isn't obstructing their airways—you'd prefer not to leave them to suffocate—and then you turn your attention elsewhere.  
            
            *goto downnotdone
        
    #@{thebasics Relying on the basics has worked so far, I'll stick to that, even if it isn't the fastest.|I fall back on the basics. Powers and training have to be good for something.}
        *set juice -5
        *if (thebasics)
            *set rocketprogress +1
            Despite not exactly slapping Cannibal around the street so far, there's something to be said for finding something that works and staying the course. It beats squandering your advantages trying for something flashy.
            
            It's not your responsibility to single-handedly carry the Altruists. If you deal with Cannibal, you've done your job.
            
            With that in mind, you return to the same strategy you were using before Cannibal whipped out their arm cannon.
            
            @{fighting_style Back to volleys of striking, staying loose and limber and tremendously annoying as you dance around the edges of Cannibal's reach. Nothing too risky, nothing heavy duty, just the consistency of stick and move, stick and move.|You dance around the edges of Cannibal's reach, stinging here and there when opportunities arise and biding your time. They're clearly wary of you going for the legs again, angling their stance so as to shield the weak spot. Unfortunately for them, that gives you a perfect mind game; you don't have to take the leg if they flinch so hard from every feint they leave themself wide open. Protect the sweep, get cracked in the head with a tendril or fist.|Out come the tendrils again, freshly whetted with a moment's concentration. Then it's back to the hacking and slashing.|DUMMY}
            
            *if ((fighting_style =1) or (fighting_style = 3))
                Cannibal's composure quickly cracks with frustration. They know full well what you're up to. Too bad they're still just as incapable of doing anything about it as you steadily wear them down. They try, at one point sending you into full defence by levelling the arm cannon at you again, but you soon deduce they're bluffing and can't actually fire. In the absence of any other ranged options, their only choice is to make increasingly desperate lunges at you with weapons you're far too savvy to let near. Patient, steady, safe. 
                
                *if (fighting_style = 1)
                    *goto takeapart
                
                *else
                    *goto chipaway
                
            *else
                Feint, punish, feint, punish. Cannibal doesn't bite as you move low again, so you follow through on it, wrapping their leg in your tendrils and hauling. They teeter, overcorrect, and giftwrap an opportunity for you to rise up and uppercut them so hard in the chin it leaves your arm tingling. Cannibal's head snaps back and looking skyward, they topple like a felled tree.
                
                You kick them in the head for good measure. Anyone else you'd be confident they're completely out cold. Cannibal, you wouldn't be stunned to learn has some kind of forced reboot built into their skull.
                
                For now they're not moving. It'll have to do.
                
                *goto insidersection
                
        *else
            *if fighting_style = 1
                @{speciality You don't need the nodes for this. You're a fighter, and Cannibal is a machine.|You're getting pretty acclimatised to the latest mutations and you're feeling if not comfortable, then [i]situated[/i]. Crucially, you know where your body's weight is sitting and your centre of gravity, and that opens you up to brawl without the risk of a faceplant.|The carapace isn't for show. If it can't soak up some punishment while you fight, then what's the point?|DUMMY}

                Closing the distance of your own accord, you throw out a testing combination of strikes, @{speciality ensuring your footwork stays agile.|exploiting this body's extended reach to give you an edge.|positioning yourself such that the thickest parts of your carapace are forward.|DUMMY} Cannibal absorbs the impacts easily enough, but absorbs is just the word; there's no hand-to-hand technique whatsoever. They barely put up a guard.

                It's just like $!{cg} told you; a lot of parahumans can't throw a punch worth shit.

                Finding your range, you pepper Cannibal like a heavy bag, working them over with lefts, rights, elbows, knees. Where they strike back, you shift gears, utilising tendrils to block or make space, sticking well clear of whatever weapons they attempt to deploy; they're very eager to bring that blade in their arm back into play, for instance.

                Downside: despite teeing off on Cannibal, you're not inflicting significant damage. For every blow that connects solid, you thud twice into unforgiving plating or reinforced synthskin. Nevertheless, you're committed, and maintain the pressure. Doesn't matter that it's slow if it's working.

                *label takeapart
                Bit by bit, you take them apart. Small impacts add up over time, and the slower and more hurt they get, the more opportunity you have to line up hits. Simple elbows evolve into full-tilt smashes, knees into their flying variants.

                Crashing a fist into Cannibal's jaw, they stumble, their eyes glassy and punch drunk. 

                Perfect.

                With pinpoint precision, you kick them in the head. They drop, hard.

                You reset your feet. Wait a moment. Cannibal doesn't move, out like a light. Good to know your fists—with a little tendril assist here and there—can hold up against an overclocked cyborg.

                *goto downnotdone

            *elseif fighting_style = 2
                @{speciality You decide against bringing in the nodes; it's hard to see them having any real impact and you'd rather keep them in reserve.|You've got a whole new body to play with. Adaptability is your speciality, so... time to adapt.||DUMMY}
            
                *if (speciality = 3)
                    @{carapaceuse You've already made use of the carapace to buy yourself time and you'd rather not subject it to further punishment. It's fine. You have other strings to your bow.|While in theory you could buy time with the carapace, soaking up punishment while hunting for opportunities, letting Cannibal tee off freely on you sounds like just about the least fun you can have in a fight.}
            
                Keeping Cannibal at arm's length is straightforward; you're vastly more agile, and though you're tempted to go for a quick knockout, you know that their augments will make them far too durable for that. So, for the time being, you stall, sounding out their vulnerabilities, defending and studying in equal measure. They continue to exhibit the same deceptive quickness, and several of their pistoning punches or arm-blade slashes come far too close for comfort.

                There's no technique to Cannibal. They're brute force and an overflowing arsenal; throw enough weapons at the opponent, and something will stick. The relentless, reckless offence affords several easy opportunities for you to counterpunch or strike with a tendril, though true to expectations, you're more stinging them than damaging them. It swiftly grows clear just how much of Cannibal's body is either armour plated or coated in reinforced synthskin.

                You'll need to up the ante.

                *gosub fullmount

                Again and again you hit them, hammering your fists into their face with every ounce of strength. 

                Heh, who's brute force now? Does it still count if you got them on the ground with quick thinking—the whip lashes from their shoulder and you jerk aside, a hair's breadth from electrocution—okay maybe not the time. Its charge spent, the augmentation retracts. Something else to watch out for.

                You keep punching until Cannibal stops moving, popping them in the jaw once more for good measure. Their face is a bloody mass of bruises, which frankly says more about their durability than anything else. You'd have caved in a regular person's skull by now. You @{runningonfumes dismount slash tumble off of them, sucking wind like there's no tomorrow. That asked a lot of your faltering stamina.|dismount, breathing heavily. That asked a lot.}

                *if (enhanced1)
                    But with a couple of deep breaths, the energy surges right back into your body. A smile etches onto your face. Damn but that feels good.

                *goto downnotdone
            

            *else
                @{speciality You decide against the nodes; you can't see them having much impact, and you've got room to be creative. Besides, your powers stretch much further than just nodes, don't they?|You didn't let your mutations off the leash so they could serve as a conversation piece. Nor are they the only weapon in your arsenal.||DUMMY}

                *if (speciality = 3)
                    Armoured up as you are, it's easy to fall into a trap and forget that you still have access to all the rest of your powers. @{carapaceuse Heck, you don't even have to use them in conjunction with your carapace like earlier.|In actuality, the extra protection affords you more options than ever.}

                Cannibal moves in, and you send a ripple through your tendrils, testing and twisting them. There's a shape they want to be, a shape they default to, but that's far from immutable.

                You've done this before.

                Another ripple. Cannibal gets closer. Their arm blade is extended again, and they pull back their arm to swipe at you.

                Your tendrils, hardened and sharpened through will alone snap forward. Cannibal's weapon clashes into them, rebounding with a reverberating clang. You spare yourself the smallest smile at the surprise on the cyborg's face, and then go on the offensive, tendrils weaving through the air, slicing and dicing. In the face of such commanding reach, Cannibal can only yield ground as you lash at them with one knife-edged tendril after another.

                Downside: Cannibal's nimble enough to keep clear a lot of the time, and even when you do connect, the cuts are mostly superficial. @{gotviolentcan As before, any wounds clot quickly, further reducing the damage you inflict.|Any wounds clot quickly; some augmentation or another.} Nevertheless, you persevere, keeping up the pressure and giving them no opportunity to counter.

                *label chipaway
                Bit by bit, you chip away at them. A slice here, another there. It all adds up. As you catch them across the face with a slash and they stumble, fresh adrenaline surges into your limbs. With a burst of energy you advance, tendrils lashing like a thresher.

                Cannibal, retreating further and further, backs into the wall of a building. Nowhere to run.

                A tendril feint buys Cannibal's attention, then you leap and dropkick them so hard in the head it cracks the masonry behind them. Their eyes roll up and they slide all the way down to the ground. You grin. Figuring out that you don't necessarily need the membrane coating in order to enhance your physical attributes was quite the revelation. 

                *goto downnotdone
            
    *selectable_if (enhanced1) #Eh, I'm done playing around. Tap into the new Juice and kick their ass.
        *set juicingup +1
        
        The rest was just preamble, a warm up. You're bored of holding back the reservoir of power buzzing in your veins; you may as well be fighting with both hands tied behind your back.
        
        You've got places to be, Juice to burn, and an unsuspecting cyborg in your sights.
        
        You almost feel sorry for them.
        
        In. Out. In. Out. Each breath a ripple of what lies at your fingertips.
        
        Cannibal advances. Your mouth splits into a feral grin.
        
        *goto juicecannibal
        
    *selectable_if (runningonfumes) #@{takingitslow Stick to slow and safe. An opening will come, and I can sustain this.|Slow things up and try and catch my breath. I can't push myself so hard with this little in the tank.}
        @{takingitslow You've both played a couple of cards, but the situation is unchanged. So far, Cannibal hasn't managed to hurt you, so why overcomplicate things and slash or exhaust yourself?|The brief is to keep them busy. Hanging in there [i]is[/i] winning, and you'll be no good to anyone facedown on the floor.}
        
        @{takingitslow Taking the passive approach is pretty forgiveable up against the most dangerous member of S.C.U.M.|chewed up. eaten alive. devoured from the inside out.}
        
        Admittedly, you're going from hoping against to banking a little on that arm cannon lacking a self-reloading mechanism, but you'll cross that bridge when it opens fire at you.
        
        *if (takingitslow)
            *set cannibalscore +1
            Exploding bridges notwithstanding, you revert to the exact same strategy as before. As the realisation dawns that you're going to continue making things difficult, Cannibal looks even more pissed off. Good. Angry is stupid.
            
            It's more of the same, dodging where you can, blocking when you must. Cannibal's attacks grow wilder and wilder as their frustration mounts, broad sweeping swings that are all power and no finesse. Simple to evade, too dangerous to attempt a dflection, which is worse than it sounds. It's more tiring to get clear than to parry, and under present circumstances that's a capital P Problem. Your lungs burn, chest tight with the effort of sucking down each breath. More than once, you chance that Cannibal's aim is off, moving only minimally, just so you can steal the tiniest respite. 
            
            Despite your best efforts to conserve energy, you can feel the fuel gauge running on empty. Your steps are sluggish, your limbs leaden and reactions dulled, and the sole bright spot is that as close as you are to hitting the bottom of the barrel you're scraping, Cannibal may be just the tiniest bit closer. Their movements have grown lumbering and almost clumsy, the machinery of their body hissing and clanking in ways that sound none too healthy. @{(expressive > 55) If they were a car, you'd be praying you could get them to the garage before it's too late.|While you aren't familiar with the inner workings of augments, you know mechanical distress when you hear it.}
            
            With a hydraulic thunk from somewhere in their legs, Cannibal propels themself at you. You force your uncooperative arms up, treacle-slow, barely in time to intercept their fist from crushing through your ribs. The impact still drives you back, struggling to maintain balance while your exhausted feet stumble and struggle for purchase. Overworked muscles scream in protest as you try desperately to maintain the slightest readiness to defend yourself. Cannibal draws a fist all the way to their shoulder, loading up tor a skull-crushing punch—
            
            Something crunches. Something else pops. Cannibal's eyes widen, and then a sizeable component blows out of their leg at a velocity Rocket would have been proud of. Cannibal lurches violently to the side, almost collapsing then and there.
            
            It's a gilt-edged opportunity deposited into your lap, and you gratefully accept, carried on a surge of adrenaline to slam a vaulting knee into their head. The connection is flush, and they keel over with a resounding crash.
            
        *else
            *set blahblahvariable true
            *set rocketprogress +1
            
            *gosub takingitslow
            
            Problem is, the 'not getting squashed' part is growing harder and harder the more tired you get. The toll on your stamina is lesser, but extant, and when you were already approaching the bottom of the barrel, there's precious little left to scrape. Each footstep is just a little slower, each reaction just a little later, and the near misses steadily grow nearer and nearer. Perhaps sensing your mounting fatigue, Cannibal presses aggressively, hunting for a breakthrough with augment and fist. You've no option but to give ground, and give ground again.
            
            You're in danger of this becoming a pursuit, and the moment that happens, you'll be in serious, serious trouble. Gritting your teeth, you plant your feet and dig in, lungs burning and chest tight with the effort of sucking down each breath. You force your uncooperative arms up, treacle-slow, barely in time to intercept Cannibal's fist from crushing through your ribs. The impact still drives you back, struggling to maintain balance while your exhausted feet stumble and struggle for purchase. Overworked muscles scream in protest as you try desperately to maintain the slightest readiness to defend yourself. Cannibal draws a fist all the way to their shoulder, loading up tor a skull-crushing punch—
            
            A small object strikes Cannibal in the temple with a metallic [i]ping[/i]. They stiffen, sway, then slowly keel over, collapsing to the ground with a resounding crash.
            
            You blink. The same object bounces along the street, then begins rolling merrily towards the gutter.
            
            A golfball.
            
            Freaking—friendly fire? The odds of a shot like that have got to be something like ten thousand to one.
            
            It's about damn time the universe paid you back a little luck.
            
        Sparing the slightest glance to confirm that they're out, you double over, panting and heaving. O-okay. That was. Tough. But you're dealing, you just, need a second.
        
        Far too soon, you straighten up. No time to sit around, not with the fight still going.
        
        So much for your only responsibility being Cannibal.
        
        *goto insidersection
    
    #I turn an eagle eye towards finding a chink in their armour.
        *if ((carapaceuse = true) and (fighting_style = 2))
            You already found one. There will be more. The hard part is pulling off the same close study without leaning on your carapace, what with the beating it just took. Probably can't rely on them zapping their own leg again either.
            
        *else
            Cannibal is completely patchwork, cobbled together. That can't fit together seamlessly. There must be a weakness somewhere.
        
        
        Keeping at range—just a little attention dedicated to tracking that gun arm of theirs—you start inspecting the cyborg, assessing the layout of their enhancements. Inevitably, you find yourself comparing Cannibal's misshapen, tacked on cybernetics to Enfilade's. Hers have had at least had an attempt to integrate with her body normally. Cannibal looks like a model miniature somebody kept glueing more pieces onto.
        
        Sadly, they're not going to stand idle while you critique their aesthetics. Within a few seconds, Cannibal has broken the staredown and is coming after you again.
        
        So far, you've got nothing. While the various armour plates and attached weapons are ramshackle to the eye, if Cannibal was an incompetent mechanic, they'd have killed themself long ago. You ready up a defence, stepping aside from Cannibal's swinging fists with relative ease, continuing to hunt for weak points whenever the opportunity is there. They're not really doing anything flashy, sticking to punching and the occasional swipe of their arm blade. A double-edged sword; no dangerous devices to dodge, but no further exposure of potential vulnerabilities.
        
        *if (observation > 35)
            *set cannibalscore +1
            There's a crackle as you block a punch, the sole warning for the electrical whip launching from Cannibal's shoulder again. You contort your body sideways, barely averting a high-voltage lash to the face, and then hit the floor with a roll, evading it on the way back. Cannibal's glowering when you reset yourself to face them; they're zero for two with that particular weapon.
            
            Actually, it'd be pretty hard for you to defend against a persistent assault with the whip. Even if they couldn't connect an attack, it'd be nigh impossible for you to land an attack; you'd be at constant risk of shocking yourself. Cannibal should know that.
            
            Your eyes flick to the mass of wiring in their shoulder panel. You'd assumed it would have a constant live current, but perhaps not? The whip has retracted, nestling within the wires, and the crackling electricity is absent. Blocking another of Cannibal's attacks, you circle to their right, taking one more peek at the open panel as you move. There's a little set of LEDs buried amidst the rest of the electronics, and all of them are dimmed. Does that mean it's recharging? Impossible to know; maybe the augmentation came with the lights when Cannibal jury-rigged it into their body, and they're defunct. But maybe not.
            
            This will be either rather clever, or very very stupid. 
            
            Forming the tip of a tendril into a spike, you jam it into the shoulder panel, piercing the thinner metal. Wires snap, whiplashing off in different directions. 
            
            *goto cracklejolt
            
        *else
            You keep looking. And then some more. Skirt a hammer blow of a punch. Keep looking.
            
            If it were possible through the membrane, you'd be sweating. Nothing is screaming 'hey! I'm a weak point! Hit me!', and short of wedging your tendrils in between some of Cannibal's cybernetic seams, you're pretty damn short on ideas. The wrong move in such close quarters could result in a very bad day.
            
            *if (observation > 30)
                The hesitation costs you. Cannibal intercepts you midway through a dodge, arm wrapping around your waist, and then you're airborne and upside down.
                
                Up and up and—they're going to slam you, aren't they? 
                
            *else
                *set mc_health 2
                *set injurydesc 6
                *set rocketprogress +1
            
                Wait. Right there!
                
                You lunge at the side of their torso, driving your fist into a discoloured patch of synthskin.
                
                Clunk.
                
                Ah. 
                
                That would be the wrong move.
                
                Cannibal punches you in the face so hard you momentarily black out. When you come to, you're hurting in several interesting places and Cannibal's hauling you bodily off the ground and into the air. Vertigo as you're flipped upside down, then up and up and—they're going to slam you, aren't they?
            
            
            In the split second before Cannibal dumps you on your head, you lash a tendril around a nearby street light, clinging to it like the lifeline it is and halting Cannibal for just a moment. Just long enough. Spiking @{(speciality = 2) a second tendril|the opposite tendril}, you jam it into Cannibal's exposed shoulder panel and [i]rip.[/i]

            *label cracklejolt
            Crackle. Jolt. A fireburst of pain. Cannibal manages the beginnings of a scream, cut off as something detonates under your tendril, shocks reverberating back along the limb. Suddenly, you're hurled clear, scudding over the concrete. As you come to a stop, you're instinctively cradling the singed tendril to yourself. That stunt burned off a good few inches of it, and the tip smokes, weeping ichor.

            Clenching your teeth, you scrape yourself off the floor and scramble into some semblance of a defensive stance, only to relax as you catch sight of Cannibal stretched flat out on their back, motionless. Black smoke plumes from their damaged shoulder.

            @{(observation > 35) Rather clever it is.|…That works. Unambiguously an utter fluke but… that works.}
            
            *goto downnotdone
            
    *if (enhanced1)
        #I'm itching to use the enhanced Juice, but I'll show some restraint and only bump my powers up a little.
            Tapping into your powers is easy, and that's exactly what makes it hard. Like a dammed-up river, they want to flow out of you in a torrential flood, and it's every ounce of control not to get swept up and washed away.
            
            *goto juicycannibal
    *else
        *selectable_if (runningonfumes = false) #@{runningonfumes I could finish this with my powers. If, you know, I had the slightest bit of Juice to spare.|Juice up and swing for the fences. I can take them out.}
            Immediately going full-bore was a little too much to risk, but you've taken enough of Cannibal's measure. You're ready.
            
            *label juicycannibal
            *set juice -10
            *gosub juicecheck
            *set cannibalscore +1
            The Juice flows through your limbs, lighting them up with sensation. You breathe in, then out, and the exhalation carries a trembling energy. Your focus sharpens to a pinpoint, hyper aware of every inch of tendril and membrane.
            
            @{(expressive > 55) Rock and roll.|You're ready.}
            
            Flowing into action, each movement is assured and poised as you begin the assault. @{enhanced1 Strange clarity settles in your mind, dissolving the jittery tension you've felt from the moment you drank the new Juice. There's no time to disseminate that;|So strange that this clarity can lie dormant beneath the surface, waiting to be called upon. When your powers cooperate. But this isn't the time to introspect;} you've an overclocked cyborg to defeat.
            
            It's the second time that your tendrils parry Cannibal's fists with minimal effort and no distraction that you see alarm beginning to spread across their face. It'd be easy to get overeager at the sign of weakness, but you rein yourself in, favouring unrelenting pressure rather than snatching at a finishing blow. Cannibal has too many tricks; you'd only give them an opportunity to catch you by surprise.
            
            So you don't allow them that chance. Your tendrils guard and your fists fly, amplified by the foreign formula pumping through your veins. It doesn't matter what Cannibal tries—and they try plenty, fresh cybernetics emerging from all over their body—you've got the answer, sidestepping or swaying or simply slamming membrane-encased knuckles into their jaw.
            
            It's the unflashiest, most businesslike usage of your powers you've ever performed. But who cares if it's plain? Snagging Cannibal's leg in one tendril, their arm in another, you hurl them bodily to the ground and put the exclamation point on the fight with a leaping, double-footed stomp directly to the sternum. Metal crunches, and Cannibal stills like a uncharged roomba.
            
            Crap. Did you overdo it? You crouch, checking them over. Still breathing. You make a mental note to adjust the force you use against the rest of the gang; that'd have caved in an unaugmented ribcage.
            
            *goto downnotdone
            
            

*label gettingviolent
Forming claws, you close in on your augmented foe. Their face—the flesh part of it anyway—lights up in unsuppressed glee. Wow, what are the odds that cyborg carrion-eater isn't the most stable kid on the block?
        
@{(psycho > 1) It's not hypocrisy. You never claimed to be any better.|Then again, you're here planning to beat them at their own game, so…}

Cannibal strikes first, throwing a fist with the hiss of a piston behind it. You contort yourself, stepping into and past the punch, whistling by you as a matter of inches.

There's no space for you to hit back, too close to Cannibal to properly wind up a counter. If you intended to stick to your fists.

You ram your claws into their torso, right at the gap in the metal plates. Flesh parts easily around your fingers as you dig deep, then rip out, gouging furrows. Sickly pale blood, almost pink, bursts from the wounds, dousing your hand. Cannibal howls in pain and swings back an elbow, deflecting off your shoulder with just enough force that you back off, considering the next move.

Cannibal's blood drips to the concrete. The light reflects from it unnaturally, glinting with a silvery sheen. Where it clings to your hand, the whorling, oily movement is almost akin to the membrane beneath.

You attend back to Cannibal before you can get too distracted. Disconcertingly, the slash already seems to be clotting, bleeding slowing to a trickle.

They are no longer smiling.

Another clash. You target the wound, but Cannibal guards against it, angling their body as to shield the injury. Your claws glance off augmented flesh with discordant screeches, and Cannibal retaliates in kind, swiping at you with a razor of a blade embedded in an arm, forcing evasive action. Violence begets violence, it seems.

That's fine. You can handle the heat. Cannibal slashes right at head height@{(mc_height = 2) —they have to lean down to angle that properly—| } and forces a lightning reaction, arrowing your tendrils from behind your shoulders to block. The blade digs @{(speciality = 2) deep, even with a tendril quartet,|deep,} and you grunt, face splattered with ichor. A little pain, though, is nothing: Cannibal is wide open, and you drive both sets of claws into them, mangling the torn flesh of their side and ripping a chunk from their abdomen.
        
*return

*label fullmount
Cannibal swings for you again, and you go low. 
            
Very low.

They're lopsided, one leg far bulkier with cybernetics than the other. Weak spot. You throw yourself bodily into their knee, @{(speciality = 3) the rigid carapace serving as a weapon.|stiffening the membrane as much as you can.} With a clattering impact, you take Cannibal's leg out from underneath them, snagging them with your tendrils as you go and bringing the both of you crashing to the ground.

It's less so knocking them over as, with one leg straining under hydraulics and struggling under its own weight, how difficult will it be to get back up?

Scrambling, you simply dive on top of Cannibal before they get a chance to orient themself, and then start flinging fists with wild abandon. Toughness doesn't matter when you've got them in full mount and can repeatedly hit them in the face. They struggle to dislodge you, but you've got extra limbs spare for grappling and keep @{thebasics them tangled up, reserving special effort for holding their gun arm well clear. Eat a point blank shot from that thing and you'll be going home in a lunchbox.|them pinned down, which is working great until one of the arms you're grasping unhinges at the elbow and you've suddenly got a gun aimed at you point blank.}

*return

*label takingitslow
Pushing past the phantom pain of gnawing teeth, you refocus on the cyborg, already perilously close. They wind up for a huge swing, and you backstep twice, letting their fist whoosh past. The overshoot is so severe that anyone else would have stumbled, but with those enhancement-infused legs of theirs, Cannibal's so heavy that they're able to correct, stomping a foot back into the ground with a resounding clank.
        
Then they keep coming.

You can't just dodge everything. Letting Cannibal chase you around will wear you out just as fast as standing toe-to-toe. The solution is a combination of both. Block some attacks, evade others. Whichever is the least exertion at the time.

As you deflect their blows, slip aside from this or that onboard weapon, Cannibal wears their mounting frustration plain upon their face. While it's not a walk in the park, to sidestep another electrical lash, to parry a pistoning punch, you're not burning through what's left of your stamina. @{blahblahvariable Like you were saying; that you're not actually winning the fight is unimportant, you're just|That you're not actually winning the fight is unimportant: the brief was to keep them busy, and you're} the annoying bug that refuses to get squashed.
        
*return



        
*comment need to have something establishing if you juiced or not. if juice is >10 don't force a top up but apply a 'condition' to dime and take away options to reflect they're close to tapped out. If it's 10 or lower force top up. can pick which juice if they had multiple. 
*comment if you took the enhanced juice we're keeping an eye on how often they use those options. three strikes and we're out. messily. om nom nom.
*comment overall success is whether or not rocket gets away. if she does this means we have to try and piece things together with information left behind and obviously we can't stay for very long. has a knock on effect to the later mission/wilstuff and probably alice stuff cause of not being able to figure it out in full.
*comment getting hurt removes certain options later on. it's not an automatic fail but it's narrowing stuff down.
*comment if you actually run out of juice you've gotta eat up your stuff to keep going and then you crash out afterwards. do this such that the omnom happens at the end of 'phases' so I don't have to factor it in absolutely everywhere
*comment fight staging: dime vs cannibal. Architect and Teddie vs. Rocket. Wil vs. Insider. Wyrd vs. Spring Breaker
*comment Dime initially slugs it out with Cannibal some and one way or another puts them down temporarily. more success points the more effectively you pull this off.
*comment briefly dip in on Wil vs. Insider. Insider seems eager to attack you specifically: put two and two together about his power and the tag. also ends up in the street. (options more flavour based here, this one's wil's show)
*comment wil slorps insider but freaks out about it and bails. nobody's happy about this -> future conflict, proper power/backstory reveal, potential hardening, dropping the barriers about touching.
*comment we note that rocket is really difficult to handle. make comparisons to arcade laser with her projectiles; she doesn't have to wind up, ricochets are surprisingly dangerous. Architect can defend effectively but rocket's clever about not getting hemmed in. wyrd's not having a fun time with spring breaker but doesn't appear to be actively dying so that's something.
*comment cannibal pops back up and tries to dome dime right as they're trying to help, so we have one more round with them. during this, a car gets flipped and it's leaking fuel with cannibal raining sparks everywhere. that's absolutely going to go up. options are to try and talk them down, try to steer them away, just fight, go full fucking psychopath and throw them into it, or intervene despite the danger, which lets you save them but also gets you fucked up courtesy of cannibal since you're not focused on them. I guess enhanced juice option to save the civilians also.
*comment beat cannibal x2. option to kill them.

*label downnotdone
@{gooped You're|In any case, they're down, and you're} far from done for the day. Better move on.

*label insidersection
*page_break

*if (juicingup = 1)
    *goto ghoultumble
    
*elseif (cannibalscore = 2)
    *goto ghoultumble

*elseif (cannibalscore = 1)
    *set rocketprogress +1
   
*else
    *set rocketprogress +2
    
*label ghoultumble

*if (runningonfumes)
    One foot in front of the other, just about dragging them off the ground. You're treading water in a sea of fatigue.

    
The building where this began is rocking, and not because S.C.U.M. is throwing a raging party. What's left of the front door hangs from its hinges, allowing the shouts and crashes from within to escape outside. 

As you reach the sidewalk, Ghoul tumbles through the ex-door and out into the street. Insider hops after ${whim}, rolling one shoulder, then the other. You're just enough to one side that he doesn't notice you and instead lunges for Ghoul, who scrambles clear, ${whis} costume's ribbons trailing in the air.

"Do you even know how to fight?" Insider crows, advancing on ${whim}. "All you're good for is looking scary, and that slime-covered weirdo is better at it than you." 

*choice
    #"Hey, at least I don't wear a gimp mask."
        *set expressive %+ 10
        Insider whirls, a hand going to the strips of leather wrapping his face. They do little to cover his indignant expression. "It is NOT a gimp mask!" 
        
        "Oh, so you just choose to look like that. Eesh."
        
    #"Scared of me, are you?"
        *set expressive %+ 7
        Insider whirls. "Where the—that is not what I said!"
        
        "Sure sounded that way."
        
    #This is not the time to quip.
        *set expressive %- 10
        You could have sworn you were outside Insider's peripheral vision, but he suddenly whirls to face you, jabbing a gloved finger. "Thought you could sneak up on me, huh? Can't be done."
        
        Seeing no point in dialogue, you remain silent.
    
Insider's expression shifts, eyes narrowing. "Wait a second. You're…" He leans forward, studies you a second, and then straightens back up. "Hah! Thought I felt a tag around here. Isn't that convenient?"

You shoot a glance Ghoul's way, wondering if they can make any more sense of his rambling. $!{whe} shrugs, similarly baffled. $!{whe}'s looking a little beat up; @{(poutcome = 4) which is a little surprising, given ${whe} fended off two Hounds on your behalf not too long ago.|not the first time ${whe}'s struggled with an opponent, come to think of it.}

"Figures you idiots don't know the first thing about me." Insider puffs out his chest and spreads his arms wide. "I always find my mark."

@{tag That's exactly what he said at the café, right after grabbing you. It could just be his favourite catchphrase, but...|There's something in the way he says it, and something other than 'behold my catchphrase', at that.}

His mark. A 'tag'.

With a jolt, you remember the strange, shimmering field in the facility beneath the Zone. Could Insider have placed it there? Is that the 'tag' he's talking about? At the café, @{tag he went for [i]you[/i]. Not $!{cg}, not Alistair. You, specifically.|he seemed to know who he was looking for, if imprecisely.} Ghoul never went into the lab. You did. Insider sensed you before, and he's sensing you now. 

*choice
    #Probe for information. See if I can get him to tip his hand.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        "And when exactly would you have had the chance to tag me?" you say.
        
        Insider smirks, tapping a finger to his temple. "That's the beauty of my power, I don't have to be there to tag you. I set a trap and you walked right into it, dumbass."
        
        Well, getting him to throw the entire hand across the table works too.
        
    #Just out and out state my suspicions. He's a gloater, he'll probably admit it.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        "So you're the one who made that forcefield," you say. "Didn't exactly hold me back."
        
        Insider scoffs. "Idiot! I didn't put it there to stop anyone, I put it there so I'd know who broke in!"
        
        Bingo.
        
    #That can't be all that his power does.
        Okay so not every parahuman ability can be exciting, but this feels too simplistic. Insider creates a flimsy forcefield and can track people who touch it? If that was the full extent of his power, S.C.U.M. wouldn't keep him around. Even if his gang somehow decided it was worthwhile teaming up with a guy who could be replaced by a well-trained dog and/or security camera, the Hounds would have put him behind bars long ago. His subpar showing back at the café notwithstanding.
        
        @{tag When he grabbed you, it was like he was radiating numbness from his hand, slowly freezing you down to the bone. That wasn't 'stronger than he looks', that was something else.|Pompous, overconfident, and questionably competent. But not without threat. Not dismissible.}
        
    #Who cares about the power itself? He knows my face!
        Whatever Insider's tag is, he's detected it on both ${mask} and ${aka2}. While you've barely got a civilian life to speak of, Insider could screw you beyond belief by letting the connection slip. Somehow, you don't think the gentlemen's agreement keeping parahumans from going after each other when they're not wearing the masks will be foremost in Beth's mind if it happens to get back to the Hounds that their new friend is a supervillain.
        
        This is bad news. Bad, bad news.

"Man it's good to be me," says Insider, playing to a non-existent crowd. "I didn't even have to find you this time. You just delivered yourself straight into my hands! Time to eat dirt, losers!"

With superhuman swiftness, Insider is on top of you, throwing powerful yet sloppy punches. Something's bolstering him—the proximity of his tag?—and he'd very nearly be landing hits if you were an untrained opponent. As is, you dance around his flailing fists, head movement and footwork sparing you from any harm. Maybe he's underestimating you. Maybe he's really shit at fighting.

*if (enhanced1)
    Maybe it's that, with the improved Juice coursing around your body, Insider almost looks like he's moving in slow motion.
    
    Tag or no tag, you have zero doubt that a short sharp application of that thrumming energy will be far more than he can handle.
    *choice
        #I'm gonna wipe that smug smirk from his face.
            *set juicingup +1
            *set enhancedvsinsider true
            The Juice pounds in time with your beating heart. As it bubbles up in you, you find a laugh wanting to join it.
            
            Insider swings again and, grinning broadly, you catch him by the arm. Insider grunts, but twists his hand to grip you in turn. 
            
            There's the faintest sensation of cold, a tingling numbness. "Now I've got—" Insider begins, before you headbutt him so hard his entire body stiffens up. 
            
            His grip slackens. Yours does not. You drive a fist into his stomach for good measure and he drops to his knees, eyes glassy. Grabbing him by the shoulder, you drag him—effortless, weightless—just upright enough to launch a knee into his face.
            
            Crunch. Out cold. It's that easy.
            
            That laugh still wants out. You let it. Have you ever felt this good?
            
            With a flourish, you flip Insider limp body overhead, striking a pose for an imaginary crowd.
            
            Behind you, there's an 'oof', then the noise of someone hitting the ground, then, silence.
            
            You hold the pose a moment longer. More silence.
            
            Frowning, you turn. You expected Ghoul to at least react—
            
            ${wname} crouches over Insider, trembling.
            
            *label wilfreakout
            "Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck," ${whe} mumbles, every word slurring together. "I-didn't-mean-to-do-that-I-wasn't-expecting-I-didn't-mean—"
            
            Trembling is the wrong word. Wil [i]vibrates[/i], @{ghouldvibrations and you remember with sudden clarity that it's just the same as in the Zone, amped up and buzzing with too much energy.|the edges of ${whis} form seeming to blur.}  $!{whe} must have caught Insider on the way down and used ${whis} power inadvertently. $!{whe} jitters and twitches, hands clenching and unclenching over and over again.
            
            *goto ghoulchoice
        #Ghoul's here to back me up. No need to overdo it.
            Fun as it would be and tempting as it is to knock Insider silly, why get carried away? No sense using a rocket launcher when a couple of fists will do.
            
            You continue dodging around Insider. He continues throwing more and more increasingly wayward punches.
            
            "Stop. Freaking. Moving!" Insider snarls, flailing a fist into the next zipcode.
            
            Tunnel vision. Perfect.
            
            *goto ghoulooms
            

*else
    Finally, Insider manages to latch a hand upon your shoulder. "Now I've got you!" he gloats.
    
    @{tag A slight sensation of numbing cold leeches into you, but it's nowhere close to what happened at the café. Of course, you lacked an insulating layer last time.|You feel the slightest sensation of cold numbness. Either Insider's trump card kind of sucks or you've got a built-in counter to a touch-based power.} Thanks, membrane.
    
    Insider does not appear to be aware that getting hold of you is not quite the gamechanger he's expecting.
    
    *choice
        #Punch him.
            *set instinctive %+ 10
            Your knuckles plough into Insider's jaw with a satisfying crunch. He yelps, staggering clear with his hands clutched to his face.
            
        #Be a distraction.
            *set instinctive %- 10
            You make a show of struggling without actually pulling free.
            
            @{(terminate = 2) The deepening chill is almost relaxing, like submersion in an icy bath. You could just let it happen.|}
            
            Insider's smug grin gets wider and smugger. "Too easy."
    
    
    *label ghoulooms
    Behind him, Ghoul looms up like ${whis} spectral namesake and wraps ${whis} arms around Insider's head. You glimpse Ghoul's pale fingers as they secure a grip, touching skin on skin.
    
    Insider lets out the very beginning of a curse before all energy seems to desert him. He sags against Ghoul and in short order goes completely limp. Ghoul lowers his inert body to the ground, but does not straighten back up.
    
    $!{whe}'s trembling.
    
    "Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck," ${whe} mumbles, every word slurring together. "I-didn't-mean-to-I-took-too-much—"
     
    Trembling is the wrong word. Wil [i]vibrates[/i], @{ghouldvibrations and you remember with sudden clarity that it's just the same as in the Zone, amped up and buzzing with too much energy|the edges of ${whis} form seeming to blur.} $!{whe} jitters and twitches, hands clenching and unclenching over and over again.
    
*label ghoulchoice
*choice
    #Tell ${whim} to snap out of it.
        $!{whe}'s letting ${whis} emotions run away. $!{whe} needs bringing back to earth.
        
        "Ghoul! Hey, head in the game!"
        
        No response. $!{whe}'s deaf to you.
        
        *label ghoulfuckno
        
        "Not-again-no-no-no-fuck-no," ${whe}'s babbling, shaking ${whis} head. For the briefest instant, you glimpse ${whis} pale eyes through ${whis} mask, glassy and staring at nothing.
        
        @{nocrowdwil Hanging back isn't working. You need to intervene. |}"Ghoul—" you start, drawing closer. 
        
    #Gently check on ${whim}.
        "Ghoul?" you venture, taking a couple steps towards ${whim}. "You alright?" 
        
        @{(romance_wil > 1) $!{whis} repetitive motions stop. $!{whe} tilts ${whis} head, like ${whe}'s listening to you from very far away. "$!{aka}, I—I can't—"|$!{whe} doesn't seem to hear you.}
        
        @{(romance_wil > 1) The momentary composure dissolves. $!{whe} hunches over, breathing ragged. $!{whis} hands clench, unclench, clench, unclench.|}
        
        *if (romance_wil <= 1)
            *goto ghoulfuckno
        
        *else
            "Wil—" you start, drawing closer.
            
    #Give ${whim} a second to work through it. I shouldn't crowd ${whim}.
        *set nocrowdwil true
        You hang back, watching carefully. Intervening in the wrong way might set ${whim} off even harder. Or give ${whim} a target.
        
        The strategy is ineffectual. $!{whe} doesn't calm, ${whe} gets worse.
        
        *goto ghoulfuckno


$!{whe} snaps up like a jack-in-the-box, the full whites of ${whis} eyes showing. "Get-away-from-me! You'll-die-too!" $!{whe} whirls away and flees, parahuman speed turning ${whim} into a black smudge tearing down the street.

*choice
    #Chase after ${whim}! We need ${whis} help!
        You break into a run, but Ghoul is far too fast. Within a few seconds, ${whe}'s out of sight.
        
        There's no way you're catching ${whim}. You slow to a halt.
        
        That's inconvenient. So much for making this into a five on two.
        
    #Chase after ${whim}. I want to make sure ${whe}'s okay.
        You don't think twice, and break into a run.
        
        Despite your best efforts, Wil's just too fast. Within a few seconds, ${whe}'s out of sight.
        
        You slow to a halt, grimacing. It stings to leave ${whim} in such a state, but what can you do? You don't have super speed. You'll just have to hope ${whe} doesn't do anything stupid.
        
    #Investigate Insider. Is he actually dead?
        Ghoul's beyond reach and moving far too fast to catch. A better use of your time is in checking whether ${whis} fears are grounded.
        
        Crouching next to Insider, you @{touchingokay tilt his head from side to side, finding no resistance and no strength. Grimacing, you place to fingers to his neck. After a moment, you find a pulse. Faint, but present. He's alive.|inspect his insensate body. After a moment or two, you detect the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His breathing is shallow, but he's alive.}
        
    #I should concentrate on getting back into the fight.
        Even if you somehow caught up to Ghoul—who for the record is already almost out of sight—there's no time to calm ${whim} down and two more members of S.C.U.M. at large. You have to prioritise.
        
    *selectable_if (rel_wil < 45) #You've gotta be kidding me. Is ${whe} scared of ${whis} own powers?
        $!{whe}'s supposed to be a villain, in case ${whe} missed the memo. Hell, taking out Insider is close to outright heroism. How is ${whe} flipping out over using ${whis} powers?
        
        Ridiculous.
        
        Even if you wanted to catch up to Ghoul and/or knock some sense into ${whim}, ${whe}'s almost out of sight already.
        
        *choice
            #So is Insider actually dead or what?
                A cursory inspection—and a well-placed kick—confirms that Insider is breathing shallowly.
                
                Great so we're freaking out for nothing.
                
                Whatever, nothing to be done about it now.
                
            #I've got a fight to catch.
                Two down, two to go. Chasing after Ghoul would just take two Altruists out of the fight instead of one.

You turn your attention to the battleground building, which appears to have had a new bay window installed at some point in the last couple of minutes. Through the hole, you see Rocket facing off with both Architect and Fracture. She darts around the room like a hurricane, occasionally dipping and dodging out of view as she evades the pair's attacks. On full display are the skills that have kept Rocket and her gang out of the Hounds' clutches for so many years; unlike, say, Arcade, her projectiles require no charging or wind-up. Every piece of debris or random household object is a cannon in her hands, and while Architect's barriers and Fracture's armour are keeping each of them relatively protected, Rocket's relentless barrage and constant movement are preventing them from effectively trapping her.

You don't see Wyrd or Spring Breaker, but between the shrieking and shouting echoing from somewhere else inside, you assume that could be going worse. Wyrd isn't actively dying, at least.

Enough standing around, you're getting involved—

*page_break Screeching tyres.
*set canniganked 2

*if (injurydesc = 1)
    *set injurydesc 9
*if mc_health = 1
    *set mc_health 2
    
*else
    *set mc_health 3

Crashing metal. Breaking glass. Screams.

You dive to the right, hitting the ground hard. An entire car skids through the place you just stood, grinding across the concrete on its side. As the vehicle slows, it lurches, overbalances, and rolls onto its roof. Momentarily you glimpse the terrified faces of the driver and backseat passenger, then a white hot line of pain explodes across your spine. You arch, crying out—@{(speciality = 3) straight through the carapace!|that's deep!}—and then will yourself past it to [i]move[/i].

Heavy impact upon the concrete, once again right where you were. You stumble upright, trying to regain your bearings and figure out what the fuck just hit you. 

Cannibal.

You don't know how they scraped themself off the floor, but the walking DIY project is back up and running. Between the sparking wires and groans of ailing cyberware, they're hardly at full strength, but you'd thought them out for the count.

Blood trickles down your back.

*page_break
Here, Cannibal jerks spasmodically, cybernetics whirring and grinding, still a threat, as the gash you're nursing can attest.

There, the others continue to battle S.C.U.M.. Could go either way, especially without Ghoul.

And right by your side, the overturned car. People trapped inside.

The air reeks with gasoline from a punctured fuel tank. Fluid spreads further and further across the street. Even without Cannibal crackling like a bootleg firework, a single errant spark could send it up in flames. You'd survive. Those bystanders certainly won't.

*label savepeoplechoice
*choice
    #Talk Cannibal into moving away from the danger zone.
        "People are trapped over here!" you call, gesturing with a tendril. They follow the motion, then snap back to you. "Unless we back off, we're both going to have blood on our hands!"
        
        Cannibal tilts their head one way, then the other.
        
        A heartbeat too late, you remember that their body count is in double figures.
        
        They charge. 
        
        You spring forward, throwing hands and tendrils into Cannibal's path, desperate to prevent the inevitable.
        
        Impact. Your feet skid as you struggle for purchase.
        
        *label sparkshower
        Sparks shower upon the ground.
        *label deathdeathdeath
        *set scum_casualties 2
        
        You hear the flame catch.
        
        It chases the gasoline along its trail.
        
        Back to the car.
        *page_break And...
        *goto explosiondeath
    #I'll fight carefully and steer us clear.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        Cannibal seems totally fixated on you. Provided you pick and choose how and where to engage with them, you should be able to prevent disaster.
        
        First things first, you need to open some distance from the car, evacuate the immediate danger area. Rushing towards Cannibal, you fake a headlong charge then, as they try to catch you out with a pistoning punch, you tuck and roll, diving underneath their outstretched arm and onto their far side. As planned, they turn around to keep track of you, and now their back is to the flipped vehicle.
        
        Feinting a strike, you back up as Cannibal moves to defend. Glowering, they advance. One step, another, a third, further and further from a deadly ignition.
        
        And then they manage to catch hold of your arm.
        
        One feint too many, or just a little too slow, or luck, plain and simple. Whichever it is, Cannibal drags you towards them, around, and hurls you right back to the area you've been trying to avoid.
        
        Their overclocked, overstretched cybernetics shower the ground in sparks.
        
        *goto deathdeathdeath
        
    #I don't see how that's my problem.
        *set psycho + 1
        *set noattempt true
        The people in that car saw a superpowered brawl and decided to drive straight through it. @{killthink At a certain point, that's on them, not you. Sure, you don't want to see anyone get hurt, but you're not exactly in a position to play hero.|Sucks if they get hurt, but you didn't put them there.|Any consequences are their own damn fault.} @{(killthink = 2) You've got other problems.|}
        
        *if (guiltkill)
            Each justification catches and tears at your attempts to swallow it down. @{(libra = 1) Watson's|The dead man's} broken body flashes in your mind 'til you force the shutters closed. That was different. 
            
        You stride towards Cannibal, tendrils at the ready. They step forth to meet you.
        
        *label headonfight
        The rejoined fight is an echo of the original, only with the brute force dial turned all the way up. Cannibal's out of tricks and you're out of patience, and for a moment, with their jury-rigged cybernetics collapsing at the seams, it seems a few hard shots is all it's going to take to put them down. A tendril slammed into their face, another their gut, jab, left cross. They reel…

        Stabilise in a cloud of steam and creaking, overwrought metal. They strike back, you evade, hit a leg kick, duck under another swipe. @{noattempt |You're trying to maintain the offensive momentum, but you can't just run facefirst into their sword.}

        Inevitably, Cannibal's straining augmentations strain too far.
        
        *goto sparkshower
      
    #I can't just let innocent people die. Save them, even if it gives Cannibal a free shot at me.
        *set grey +2
        *set blownup 2
        *if mc_health = 3
            *set mc_health 4
        
        *else
            *set mc_health 3
            
        *if (injurydesc = 1)
            *set injurydesc 9
        
        *if ((psycho > 2) or (brutal > 3))
            Suddenly, you're turning away from Cannibal and sprinting for the car. Call it a sudden attack of conscience.
            
        *elseif (guiltkill)
            @{(libra = 1) Watson's|The dead man's} broken body flashes in your mind. Letting this happen would be as bad as doing that all over again.
            
            *goto turnandsprint
            
        *else
            This isn't some abstract hypothetical; those people need help, and whether you assist or do not, you're making a decision.
            
            Inaction is a choice.
            
            And this is yours.
            
            *label turnandsprint
            You turn and sprint for the car.
            
        Cannibal wasn't expecting that, and you'll need to maximise the head start. Using tendrils for balance and to avoid dousing yourself in gasoline, you lower yourself alongside the damaged vehicle and begin prising loose the dented driver's side door. You block out the sound of Cannibal's clanking footsteps, focusing entirely on extricating the driver. He gapes at you, a thin line of blood trickling across his forehead, and it's a precious second before he accepts your proffered hand and allows you to tug him out of the wreck. Thankfully he's able to stand under his own power, which is as much thought as you can spare for him as you delve back into the car, reaching for the young woman wedged in the back, face daubed in blood.
        
        Sensing that time is running out, you resort to the brute force option, ripping what's left of the exterior apart like a tin can and scooping the woman into your arms. In that same moment, from the corner of your eye, flames.
        
        *page_break Oh, fuck.
        
        Kicking off with every ounce of strength in legs and tendrils, you hurl yourself clear, shielding the woman with your body. The explosion reverberates across the street, fire lapping at your back as you're tossed upon the shockwave like a discarded toy. You hold onto the woman as tightly as you can, fanning the tendrils wide to absorb as much of the force as possible. Pain shudders across your system, @{speciality the nodes psychically screeching their displeasure. |intimately acquainting you with the altered nerve endings.|even the carapace no proof against this detonation.|DUMMY}
        
        Then you slam into a wall hard enough to leave a dent and drop to the ground, stunned. 
        
        You blink a few times, trying to clear the stars away. Behind you, the car turned deathtrap is aflame, along with half the street. You don't see Cannibal.
        
        "Nat! Holy shit, are you okay?"
        
        *if ((aka = "Nat") or (mc_name = "Nat"))
            H-huh?
            
        The man you rescued rushes over, checking on the woman, who against the odds you managed not to drop. "Nat? Nat!"
        
        *if ((aka = "Nat") or (mc_name = "Nat"))
            Oh. Weird coincidence.
            
        "I'm—I'm alright, dad!" stammers Nat. Her expression is a combination of terror and disbelief, and you take the cue to loosen your grasp. 
        
        The man helps his daughter up, shooting you nervous glances. "I… thank you. We'd be dead for sure if it wasn't for you."
        
        Nat, leaning heavily on her father to stand, points past you. "Th—they're coming back!"
        
        You look around. Sure enough, Cannibal is trudging clear of the fires, looking no worse for wear. Of course it's too much to hope that they'd be caught in their own explosion.
        
        Grimacing, you shake yourself out, checking everything's still attached. The @{(speciality = 3) carapace|membrane} spared you @{(mask = "Chironex") becoming crispy-fried jellyfish|getting chargrilled}, but this shit [i]hurts.[/i]
        
        Cannibal's not gonna wait politely while you take a timeout, though, so one more glance at father and daughter…
        
        *choice
            #"Get out of here."
                "Good idea," says dad.
                
                He starts to add something else, but you're gone.
                
            #"Be safe."
                "We will!" calls Nat.
                
                She starts to add something else, but you're gone.
                
            #"Don't tell anyone I did that."
                "But—why?"
                
                Too late, you're gone.
                
            #"In future, don't drive through mask fights."
                "R—right," stutters dad.
                
                And you're gone.
                
            #...and I get moving.
                Hanging around will endanger them, and you didn't eat an explosion just to see them back in harm's way. You spin away, a startled 'oh!' coming from behind you.
                
                They'll be smart enough to get out of here, you hope.
            
            
        Gas burns off quickly, and the bulk of the fires are already dying down as you stride back into the centre of the street. The damage—other than the ex-car—largely seems limited to blown out windows and a felled streetlight; fortunate that there are no overhead powerlines in this part of town, or this could have been much worse.
        
        It almost was.
        
        You push past the thoughts of what could have been to focus on Cannibal. Hurt as you are, you can't afford any more lapses.
        
        Blocking out pain and doubt, you ready yourself for one final round.
        *choice
            #Hard and fast.
                *set instinctive %+ 10
                @{runningonfumes Tired and hurting?|Hurting?} Suck it up. Cannibal's waiting.
                
                One. More. Push.
                
                *goto cannibalbeatenagain
            #Calm and precise.
                *set instinctive %- 10
                Can't overreach for victory. Have to keep it steady. @{runningonfumes You're tired, hurting, and|You're hurting,} verging on collapse.
                
                Swallowing the pain doesn't remove it.
                
                Don't be careless, $!{forename}.
                
                *goto huntingforaplace
            #All of the above.
                You can't literally embody all of that at once, it's moreso a middle ground. Cannibal's dangerous even while damaged. Neither going all in nor hanging back seem like the right move.
                
                Both? Both is good.
                
                *goto cannibalbeatenagain
                
    #Civilian deaths would be the world's biggest headache. Save them, even though it'll cost me.
        *set blownup 2
        *if mc_health = 3
            *set mc_health 4
            
        *else
            *set mc_health 3
        *if (injurydesc = 1)
            *set injurydesc 9
        *set grey +1
        This battle is making it back to the Hounds sooner or later, and the heroes sure aren't going to chalk broiled bystander off as an accident. That's not something you're willing to leave to chance.
        
        Helping those people is the smart choice, and since you can't expect Cannibal to see reason, well…
        
        Better to play it out and let the cards fall where they may.
        
        *goto turnandsprint
    #Beat Cannibal down double-quick, before anything can happen with the fuel.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        Right, if you just take them down fast enough, you'll head off the chance of pyrotechnics.
        
        You spring towards Cannibal in long, loping strides, tendrils at the ready.
        
        *goto headonfight
    *selectable_if (enhanced1) #Save people, beat Cannibal; with this Juice, I can do both.
        *set juicingup +1
        *set grey +2
        *gosub juicing
        
        Psht. How about a challenge next time?
        
        Crossing to the overturned car in a single bound, you plunge your tendrils into the wreck, punching through metal like tissue paper. In a trice, you've peeled off the door and are prising a gap in the crumpled frame. The driver gapes at you, a thin line of blood trickling across his forehead. You try a reassuring smile. It comes out as more of a grin. Then you remember he can't see your expression in the first place.
        
        Behind you, movement, and with one flex of empowered muscles, your tendrils flip from front to back, thickening into great serpents guarding from intrusion. Your senses are afire, every nerve ending buzzing with alertness. You don't even need to look back to keep Cannibal at bay, rejecting their every advance with rapier swiftness. The tendrils are feather-light and stone sturdy, moving with an ease completely incongruous with their disproportionate size.
        
        The grin only grows, stretching your mouth wider and wider. Well. Not incongruous to you. No, the ease makes all the sense in the world, with the understanding, the connection you have to your powers. It's all so simple, and you have no idea how you never saw it, felt it before.
        
        Doesn't matter. You see and feel now.
        
        You rip the car the rest of the way open and scoop the driver out. He goes rigid, probably hurt, though you can't see many injuries.
        
        "Can you walk?" There's a resonant hum to your voice. You almost want to break into song. Cannibal attempts to charge past the tendrils, and you simply slap them away with @{(speciality = 2) all four at once|both}.
        
        "I—I th—think so," the driver stutters, and you take that as invitation to set him on his feet. At first he doesn't move, even when you nudge him with a miniature tendril extended from the back of your arm—oh neat, that's a new trick—as encouragement. Actually, he just shudders. You almost laugh. Is that really the most unpleasant experience he's had today?
        
        Ah. Wait. You know why he's hesitating. "Move," you say. "Don't worry, I'll help them." You illustrate by reaching into the car and tearing out the driver's seat with a single hand. Wedged in the back of the car is a young woman, maybe college-aged, face daubed in blood. Snapping her seatbelt, you ease an arm around her and tug her clear, downright delicately if you do say so yourself.
        
        "Thank god," the man breathes as you straighten up. You hand the woman—who you hazard a guess is his daughter, family resemblance—across with a flourish, and she manages to stand, albeit only by leaning against her dad.
        
        *choice
            #"Thank me."
                "Uh, y—yeah, thanks," stammers the man.
                
                *label zipaway
                With that, you zip away. You've got a date with a cannibal.
                
            #"Yeah, you're welcome."
                "R—right," stammers the man.
                
                *goto zipaway
            #"Get clear. This isn't safe."
                "We will, [i]thank you[/i]," says the man, face crumpling with relief.
                
                *goto zipaway
            #Heartwarming as this is, I should deal with Cannibal.
                Would be kind of galling to put all that effort into helping father-and-daughter only for them to get caught in the firing line.
                
                
        The tendrils have been operating pretty much on autopilot to ward off your cybernetic foe, though perhaps it's less that and more that you barely need to think to control them. You take your time strolling towards Cannibal, telling yourself you're giving the civilians as much opportunity to get clear as you can.
        
        But being honest, it's 50:50 between that and simple relish for the mounting frustration bleeding through into Cannibal's every move. They can't touch you, and they know it.
        
        Damn but this would be the perfect moment for a smirk. Tragic.
        
        Cannibal raises an arm and you pirouette elegantly to one side, neatly evading yet another of their weapons. It's like a parlour magician against Gandalf, cheap tricks vs. actual wizardry.
        
        Does leaping forward in an eyeblink, wrapping your tendrils around Cannibal's head, and then piledriving them into the concrete count as wizardry? Abra-ca-get-fucked.
        
        *if (overjuiced)
            *goto postcanoverjuice
        
        *else
            You nudge Cannibal with a foot and laugh. Whether or not it counts, you sure just put them to sleep.

            Although… a little of the giddiness subsides as you continue to watch them twitch and smoulder. They do seem pretty definitively out of it, but then, you thought that last time too.

            *goto makesuredown

    *selectable_if ((psycho > 2) or (brutal > 3)) #I'd rather weaponise the gasoline to take Cannibal out for good, collateral damage be damned.
        *if ((guiltkill) or (killthink = 1))
            You take a step forward, then hesitate.
            
            @{guiltkill Killing already sits heavy on your shoulders. Are you really prepared to do this again?|To this point, you've told yourself that killing is to be avoided.} Cannibal is dangerous, sure, but the calculus of sacrificing innocent lives for the sake of victory…
            
            There will be consequences for conscience and reputation both. No going back.
            
            The driver's face flashes through your mind.
            
            *choice
                #Cannibal has to die. I'll live with the rest.
                    *set noattempt true
                    The threat is too great. They've already managed to come back to bite you once. Next time you might not be so lucky. Next time, they could get at one of the others. 
                    
                    Maybe you're rationalising. Maybe not. Doesn't matter. Decision is made.
                    
                    *goto explodecannibal
                            
                #I still think Cannibal is too dangerous to leave alive, but I'll find a better way of finishing them off.
                    The destructive impulse is too reckless to indulge. You can kill Cannibal without going to the nuclear option.
                    
                    *label arethink
                    Time for a rethink.
                    *goto savepeoplechoice
                #I pull away from my murderous urges.
                    You swallow and shake your head, jaw clenched. @{guiltkill You don't know what it says about you that you're so ready to reach for violence again. Maybe that's the kind of person you are. The thought churns in your guts.|It seems that it's easier to believe you're not violent than to actually steer clear of murder. You don't like what it says about you that you're so ready to accept needless casualties.}
                    
                    *goto arethink
        
        *else
            @{(killthink = 2) You've always accepted the possibility of people dying. That day has come.|From the beginning, you've never considered killing a particularly egregious moral line.} Cannibal's going to keep being a problem unless you put an end to them.
            
            The driver's face flashes through your mind.
            
            *choice
                #No second guessing. I'm doing this.
                    *set noattempt true
                    You blot out the thought. Decision is made.
                    
                    *goto explodecannibal
                    
                #I—for fuck's sake. I can't.
                    As your jaw clenches, mind and body revolt in tandem. Your feet plant, rooting you to the spot. Round and round the thoughts whirl that this isn't right, that these are innocent lives you're plotting to expend. You try to push through those compunctions, to persuade yourself that the victory is worth the price, but try as you may, you can't bring yourself to put the plan into action. 
                    
                    You curse your own cowardice, sensing the opportunity slip through your fingers.  
                    
                    Compassion is not weakness, whispers a quiet corner of your mind.
                    
                    *goto arethink
            
        *label explodecannibal
        Teeth clenched, you psych yourself up. Pulling this off is one thing. Pulling this off without cooking yourself in the process is another.
        
        Cannibal takes a thumping step forward. More sparks shower the ground.
        
        Do it now, or Cannibal's going to do it for you.
        
        You act.
        
        Dip past their slashing blade, securing a tendril around their torso. Eat a short-armed punch right on the chin so you can anchor grip number two. Every available limb grasps on tight; a bear hug, if bears had tentacles. All the positioning and leverage you need.
        
        But you can't just toss them to the ground. Positioning, leverage, and [i]power[/i], and that's where this can fall apart in an instant.
        
        Too late now.
        
        Heaving with every ounce of strength @{runningonfumes your Juice-starved frame can muster,|in your body,} you drag Cannibal into the throw. Their legs part company with the ground, their face contorting in a snarl. You twist, rotating with the natural motion of the technique.
        
        Let the energy loose.
        
        Your tendrils surge with raw power, slamming into Cannibal's body like missiles, propelling them through the air, on collision course with your target. The force knocks you in the opposite direction and you scramble to keep moving, to get clear. @{runningonfumes Your legs are jelly, vision greying at the edges from expending reserves you simply do not have.|You feel a gnawing pang, hunger rushing to fill the void left by expended effort.} 
        
        Move. Move faster. Move—
        *set scum_casualties 3
        *set kill_cannibal 4
        *set brutal +3
        *set psycho +2
        *set juice -10
        *page_break A snatched scream.
        Detonation.
        
        Heat kisses your back as you hurl yourself to the ground and hunker down. The blast washes over you in waves, and for a moment you think you've dug your own grave.
        
        *goto firerecedes



*label explosiondeath
You hit the ground as the car goes up in a massive fireball. You feel the blast's searing heat lapping at your body, washing over you in waves, and for a moment, think it's the end.

*label firerecedes
But then the fire upon your back recedes. You manage a breath. You're scorched and stung, but thanks to your membrane, alive. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you peer at the street. The wrecked vehicle blazes like a bonfire, little more than a husk of twisted steel. The scent of burnt flesh hits the back of your throat, and you gag. Other than the ex-vehicle and those trapped within, the damage to the street is minor, limited to blown out windows and a single felled streetlight. It's lucky that there are no overhead powerlines in this part of town, or else things could have been much worse.

*if (kill_cannibal = 4)
    You realise you just tempted fate and brace yourself, but Cannibal does not emerge from the flames. You take a closer look at the burning wreckage, and think you identify a roughly humanoid silhouette, one leg much bigger than the other.
    
    Alright. Done. That's… done.
    
    Shaking your head as it crackles with white noise, you move back towards the scene of battle.
    *goto dollhouse
    

(Than two dead?)

@{noattempt You try to tell yourself you did not hear the screams.|Could you have done something else?}

There's no opportunity to dwell—that will come later—as Cannibal trudges through the flames, looking no worse for wear. The gas fire is already burning out, and Cannibal seems ready to pick up where you left off.

You clamber up off the ground.
*choice
    #Focus on the fight. Everything else is background noise.
        Beating Cannibal needs to be the one and only priority.
        
        *label cannibalbeatenagain
        They're neither unstoppable nor invincible. As you move in to engage yet again, you muster up all your reserves, and strike.
        
        Cannibal isn't rolling over, but they're growing increasingly sluggish. You punch, kick, and claw, hitting home over and over again. They let out a roar, electricity crackling along their arm blade, raised overhead—raised and far removed from guarding them.
        
        You take the chance, ramming your knee into their chest, where a thick cable weaves in and out of their body.
        
        *label itcrumples
        It crumples.
        
        And, with a wheezing gasp more like a dying generator than a person, Cannibal staggers. They take one step, then there's a staccato crack-crack-crack as their cybernetics give up the ghost in rapid succession. Each popping wire and blown fuse sends a jolt through them, jerking their body this way and that.
        
        Then at long last, they collapse in a heap.
        
        You pant, hands on your thighs. Finally.
        
        *page_break
        *goto cannibalfinaldecision
    #They can't have much left. Just need to apply pressure in the right place.
        Something has to be loadbearing in all that machinery, right?
        
        *label huntingforaplace
        You move in on Cannibal, hunting for a place to target. You're almost spoiled for choice, with the amount of grinding and groaning coming from your foe. That technology was never supposed to operate together, and after so much damage, they're starting to pay the price.
  
        They persevere nonetheless, continuing to throw laboured punches at you. Breath hisses between your teeth as you knock their arm aside; they're painfully hot to the touch, their body struggling to keep up with the demands of their cybernetics.

        *if (knowledge > 30)
           For an ordinary augment, temperature regulation would be covered by any number of sub-modifications and cyberfluid. What a shock that Frankenstein's augment wouldn't bother with the safety features. It's a feat of engineering that they can even operate under normal conditions, small wonder that an intense fight has them breaking down.
       
        *elseif (expressive > 45)
           Do they do coolant for augments?
           
        *else
            Feels familiar. Aren't you just as artificial, in a way?
            
        Then you spot it. The thick cable weaving in and out of their chest, connecting to their arm. It's shuddering, straining.
        
        *label aroundaswipe
        You dodge around a swipe of their blade, and take the chance, ramming your knee into the exposed cable.
        
        *goto itcrumples
        
    *selectable_if (enhanced1) #Alright, gloves off. Tap into the new Juice and make them regret it.
        *set juicingup +1
        *gosub juicing
        
        You could have used the extent of your powers and didn't. Now people are dead.
        
        No more holding back.
        
        Cannibal takes a single step towards you. It is, you imagine, quite a surprise for them when you blast at them like a torpedo from a standing start, the muscles in your legs surging with Juice-vigour.
        
        You slam into Cannibal at chest height, sending them toppling like a falling tree. They try to drag you down with them and you flow through their grasp like water. By the time they hit the ground you've already skittered around them on featherlight steps. Cannibal raises their arms to defend themself as you bring your fists down like hammers to the anvil, barely exerting yourself. 
        
        The clubbing blow smashes straight past Cannibal's arms and thuds into their head. You repeat the process. And again. And again. Their crossed arms falter. Again. They go limp. One more time.
        
        Alright, twice more. 
        
        You hit them, pause, tilting your head to the side to watch for movement.
        
        …Nope, they're out. 
        
        Some part of them smoulders. They got back up once. Could keep them down for good.
        
        *if (overjuiced)
            *goto kickedasstwice
            
        *else
            *goto makesuredown2
      
        
    *selectable_if (noattempt = false) #Rail at them for what they did.
        *set expressive %+ 7
        "Are you insane?" you cry. "You just murdered those people!"
        
        Cannibal regards you, blank-faced. "Wrong place, wrong time. Didn't see you backing down."
        
        *choice
            #"I—that's not..." I trail off, stomach churning.
                Their lip curls in a cold smirk. "That's what I thought."
                *choice
                    #Charge in and shut them up.
                        With a shout of fury, you charge at them.
                        
                        *label laughandbeckon
                        Cannibal laughs and beckons. They're ready for you.
                        
                        *goto ruthlessaggression
                    #Beating Cannibal is all I can do for those people now.
                        *goto cannibalbeatenagain
            #"Don't try to turn this around. You threw that car."
                Cannibal shrugs. It sounds like someone dropped a toolbox. "You chose this game. Little late to start moralising."
                
                It's pointless to argue. Accept blame or not, the dead are still dead.
                
                You ball fists and advance.
                
                *goto cannibalbeatenagain
            #With a furious shriek, I charge.
                *set expressive %+ 7
                As ever, Cannibal is ready to fight.
                
                *label ruthlessaggression
                But perhaps not for the raw aggression you show, or else they're just a lot closer to the brink than you thought. Their movement is sluggish, slow on defence and laboured on attack. @{runningonfumes Anger temporarily alleviating fatigue,|Fuelled by anger}, you go at them with everything you've got. They're unable to keep up, and you hit home again and again, punching, kicking, clawing. Reeling, Cannibal tries a desperate lunge, arm blade alight with electricity, a cable weaving through their chest pulsing and straining. You slip aside, see the opportunity before you.
                
                With a roar, you slam your knee into that exposed, overtaxed cable.
                
                *goto itcrumples
                
    *selectable_if (noattempt = false) #I'm taking this bastard out.
        They murdered two people and they don't even care.
        
        *if (killer)
            Hypocrisy? Buying back guilt? Either. Both. They're still going down.
            
        *else
            They're going down.
                 
        *goto laughandbeckon
    
    #This wasn't my fault. It wasn't.
        The mantra pounds at the inside of your skull.
        
        @{noattempt You didn't even try to save them.|You tried, didn't you? Doesn't that count?}
        
        The smell of burning meat seems to strengthen. Inescapable. Breathe it in or do not breathe.
        
        It wasn't your fault it wasn't your fault it wasn't your fault.
        
        As it rattles around your head like a marble, Cannibal comes at you from the haze. You defend yourself mechanically, arms and legs moving on autopilot to block, deflect, and dodge. Cannibal swims in and out of focus, like you're watching this happen through frosted glass.
        
        It takes Cannibal's blade scything across your @{(speciality = 3) arm and glancing off the carapce|arm, kissing the membrane and parting it in a thin line} for you to wrench yourself back into the driver's seat. Check out now, and Cannibal will see to it that you join the corpse pile. At the controls once more, you realise that Cannibal's movement is sluggish and laboured, probably the only reason you were able to fend them off while mentally absent.
        
        One hit. One good hit.
        
        A thick cable winds in and out of their chest and to their arm, straining and pulsing.
        
        There.
        
        *goto aroundaswipe
        


*label cannibalfinaldecision
*if (overjuiced)
    *label postcanoverjuice
    You inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The jittery energy doesn't leave. It's like you've got a full body version of wanting to bounce your leg. Your tendrils wiggle of their own accord, vibrating through the air.
    
    Glance at Cannibal, smouldering facedown on the asphalt. They got back up once. Could keep them down for good.
     
    *label kickedasstwice
    Eh. Doesn't matter. Kicked their ass @{(scum_casualties = 1) twice, even saved those people.|already.} Cannibal comes back for round three and you'll knock them silly. They're barely a speedbump.
    
    You rap your knuckles upon your forehead. Gotta focus. More stuff to do. The rest of S.C.U.M. to beat.
    
    No problem.
    
    You zip away from Cannibal, back towards the house.
    
    *page_break
    *goto dollhouse
  

*else
    Cannibal smoulders on the asphalt, facedown. They look pretty definitively out for the count, but you thought that last time too.

*label makesuredown
You could make sure they stay down. Permanently.

*label makesuredown2
*if (guiltkill)
    Unease churns deep inside you. Once again, you think back to the lonely corpse on the parking garage floor.
    
    You [i]could[/i], but…
    
*elseif (killer)
    @{accidentkill Last time was an accident. This would be conscious. Deliberate.|There's certainly more justification for it than your previous kill.}
    
*else
    And cross a line. Permanently.
    
*choice
    #Kill them. @{guiltkill No 'buts'. They're dangerous.|}
        *set kill_cannibal 3
        *set brutal +1
        
        You move around to their head, stepping one way, then the other, considering.
        
        Then you wrap a tendril around their neck, plant a foot on their back, and heave until it [i]snaps[/i].
        
        Cannibal's whirring cybernetics splutter and die. Their head lolls at the wrong angle.
        
        *if (killer)
            Another corpse. More blood staining your hands.
            
            *if (guiltkill)
                *choice
                    #They were a murderer. It's different.
                        Cannibal has—had—@{(scum_casualties = 2) killed, and tonight was not the first.|killed before.} Not only killed; mutilated and dismembered.
                        
                        This wasn't @{(watson = 3) some low-level gangster crossing the wrong people,|a rent-a-cop in the wrong place at the wrong time,} it was a dangerous parahuman wired with unstable cybernetics, who'd already managed to blindside you once.
                        
                        You've got all kinds of justifications. Maybe one of them will land.
                        
                        *goto sparecannibal
                    #I'm sick to my stomach.
                        *set guiltbal true
                        What is wrong with you? There's a death—a murder—already on your head, and you just… do it again? Is something in you just fundamentally broken?
                        
                        *label hityourself
                        You tremble from head to toe, eyes fixed on the body. Hit yourself in the left cheek. Then the right. Left again. One, two, three.
                        
                        Shattering glass. Your head swivels to the house. Right, you… you have somewhere to be.
                        
                        You stumble away, a fresh ghost biting at your heels.
                        
                        *goto dollhouse
                        
                    #I... I had better move on.
                        You turn around, jaw set.
                        
                        What's done is done.
                        
                        *label intoajog
                        You break into a jog towards the house. Away from the body.
                        
                        *goto dollhouse
                    #This feels easier than before.
                        *if (accidentkill)
                            Because it was intentional?
                            
                        *else
                            Because they were an actual threat?
                            
                        You're far from calm, but you're not actively freaking out either. 
                        
                        Good, or bad?
                        
                        …Not the time. You have somewhere to be.
                        
                        *goto intoajog
                 
            *else
                *choice
                    #Alright, that's done.
                        *set psycho +1
                        
                        Problem solved. No more ambushes.
                        
                        *goto twodown
                    #I'm pretty much doing the world a favour here.
                        *set psycho +1
                        This isn't the loss of some paragon of virtue. In fact, Cannibal comfortably sailed past amoral and straight into psychopathy.
                        
                        There on the ground lies someone who habitually mutilated and dismembered their victims. Killing them is one of your least villainous deeds to date.
                        
                        *goto twodown
                    #I... is this who I am? An unrepentant murderer? 
                        *set killdoubts true
                        @{accidentkill Fluke can just about account for one death—one murder. Two?|Killing one person can be a lapse, a mistake. Killing two?} That's a pattern. That's a [i]habit[/i] you're forming.
                        
                        Forget Cannibal being dangerous or deserving it. This was a choice. That matters.
                        
                        You press the heels of your palms to your temples, body trembling. You… you can't deal with this right now. You have somewhere to be.
                        
                        *goto sparecannibal
            
        *else
            *set killer true
            Straightening, you feel…
            *choice
                #Nothing, really.
                    You dealt with a threat. They won't be ambushing you again.
                    
                    *label twodown
                    Two down and two to go. For real this time.
                    
                    *goto sparecannibal
                #Instant regret.
                    *label instantregret
                    *set guiltbal true
                    *if psycho > 1
                        *set psycho - 1
                    They were helpless. They couldn't fight back.
                    
                    What have you done?
                    
                    *goto hityourself
                    
                #Satisfied.
                    *set psycho +1
                    They crossed you, hurt you, and you struck back.
                    
                    You don't have to sit here and take it. Not always.
                    
                    With a quiet smile, you turn and jog back towards the house.
                    
                    *goto dollhouse

                *selectable_if (scum_casualties = 2) #Justified.
                    *label doesnotbring
                    It doesn't bring the people back, but those are the last lives Cannibal will ever take.
                    
                    Your eyes linger on the twisted wreckage. You hope they can rest easy.
                    
                    A break would be very welcome. Process, get your head on straight. Too bad you've got somewhere to be.
                    
                    Always something else, isn't there?
                    
                    *goto sparecannibal
                
    *selectable_if (scum_casualties =2) #Cannibal just blew those people up. They deserve to die.
        *set kill_cannibal 2
        @{guiltkill First, anger, second, vengeance. What reason will you find next?|What Cannibal did was downright psychopathic. Nothing's stopping them from doing it again. Nothing except you.}
        
        So easily you cast judgement. Can you render the sentence?
        
        *choice
            #With pleasure.
                *set psycho +1
                *set brutal +1
                They have it coming.
                
                Perhaps your eagerness belies your justification, but that thought is far from your mind.
                
                Instead, a smile twists across your face as you manoeuvre around to Cannibal's head, wrap a tendril around their neck, and heave until it [i]snaps[/i].
                
                Cannibal's whirring cybernetics splutter and die. Their head lolls at the wrong angle.
                
                Mouth twitching, you leave the corpse where it lies and jog back towards the house.
                *goto dollhouse
            #Reluctantly.
                Necessary. It's necessary. Not because you want to, but to prevent any more deaths.
                
                Your breathing is ragged as you manoeuvre around to Cannibal's head. Your tendril trembles as it winds its way around their neck. You pause, heart thudding painfully in your breast, then close your eyes and heave until you hear the snap.
                
                Dying cybernetics whirr to a sputtering halt.
                
                *choice
                    #I did what I needed to do.
                        *goto doesnotbring
                    #Regret instantly consumes me.
                        *goto instantregret
                
            #...no.
                You're justified. They're scum, and not just because of their gang.
                
                Yet standing over Cannibal, you can't so much as twitch a tendril to put an end to them.
                
                Gritting your teeth, you turn away and jog back towards the house. Not here. Not today.
                
                *goto dollhouse
        
    *selectable_if (accidentkill) #I didn't mean to kill before. That's not who I am.
        You stepped onto this path because you were careless. That doesn't—shouldn't—mean you must kill and kill again just because the opportunity arose.
        
        Killing that @{(libra = 1) Businessman|security guard} was a mistake. You know it in your heart. Kill Cannibal, and you admit to yourself that the 'accident' was perhaps not entirely so.
        
        This is not who you are, and those murderous thoughts are not welcome.
        
        *goto sparecannibal
    #@{killer They're not a threat to me.|I'm not a murderer, and they're not a threat.}
        You've dropped them twice already. If they somehow manage to get up for round three, there's no way they'll actually be a factor in the fight. You'll just kick their ass all over again.
        
        *if ((killer = false) and (killthink = 1))
            And even if it were otherwise, you're not stooping to murder. Not for convenience.
            
        *elseif (guiltkill)
            And the nightmares don't need any more ammunition.
            
        *else
            @{killer Besides, going out of your way to kill them feels just a little too psychopathic for your tastes.|And killing for convenience and 'security', well, that strikes you as a slippery slope.}
    
        *goto sparecannibal
    #It's not worth the heat.
        Villains might kill each other on occasion, but that doesn't make it a good idea to invite all that attention. There's the Hounds, the DPR, your own teammates, even potentially the Coven; the unwanted eyes aren't worth the temporary convenience of removing an unconscious Cannibal from the board.
        
        @{(knowledge < 22) That's called a cost-benefit analysis. Uh. You think. Nobody better test you on it.|Hey, you can make good cost-benefit analysis. Sometimes.}
        
        *goto sparecannibal
    #@{killer I don't want people getting on my case for killing. Again.|The others might react badly if I kill them.}
        *if (guiltkill)
            You remember the judgement on Mal's face. Dion's quiet disapproval. Wil and Kay's dismayed reactions. Kill Cannibal, and you'll invite all of that and more.
            
        *elseif (killer)
            Excepting Teddie not really giving a fuck, nobody took it well last time. Doesn't matter how you feel about the necessity, or that it's a better justification, there's a track record from the other Altruists. You'd sooner avoid Mal's judgement and Dion's quiet disapproval. 
            
        *else
            You haven't forgotten that first briefing in the Altruists' pad. Both Mal and Dion expressed disapproval of killing without good reason, and finishing off a helpless opponent probably isn't going to cut it. There's enough bullshit to juggle without handing more suspicions over on a silver platter.
            
            
        Removing Cannibal from the board when they're unlikely to get back up in the first place isn't worth @{guiltkill it. Not even a little.|all that.}
        
        *goto sparecannibal
    #We're here for Rocket. If I kill her teammate, she won't cooperate.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        Can't lose sight of the goal. Rocket's already going to be a tough nut to crack without giving her further incentive to spit in your faces.
        
        *label sparecannibal
        Leaving Cannibal where they lie, you jog back towards the house.


*label dollhouse
*page_break
@{(expressive > 55) Okay, well. There was more… wall|There's considerably less wall than} the last time you looked at the building. It's like a full-scale dollhouse, @{overjuiced you think, and the analogy pulls a giggle from you. It shouldn't be this funny but it is; you can see straight through all those holes in the wall, and that's [i]just[/i] like a dollhouse.|with most of the front of the building now an open-air arrangement thanks to numerous holes punched through the brick. Getting launched through the front door was only the beginning; you'd be surprised if there was a window intact in the house.}

@{overjuiced And hey,|On the upshot,} you've got a pretty good view of the fight from here. Architect, Fracture, and Rocket have brawled their way to the house's upper level, though apparently the ceilings and/or floors have got in on the open plan design, as a lamp blasts from Rocket's hand and hits Architect in the head and not only knocks him down, but sends him tumbling all the way to the ground floor.

Fracture proceeds to bodily crash into Rocket, tackling her through yet another wall and out of sight. @{overjuiced How many walls can one building afford to lose? You kinda wanna find out.|You grimace. Hopefully that one wasn't load-bearing.} 

On the lower floor, separate from where Architect fell, Wyrd is struggling with Spring Breaker. They're soaked to the skin and on the defensive; she must have got a hold of them at some point, though Spring's frustrated scowl and running makeup suggest she isn't getting it all her own way.

@{overjuiced Aw, Wyrd's having a hard time. They can just stand back. You can take her out easy.|With Rocket's location uncertain it makes the most sense to lend Wyrd a hand. Architect took a hard hit, but you can see him moving around. He'll be back in action soon enough.}

Loping towards the @{overjuiced action,|fray,} you vault across the tasteful half-wall and into@{overjuiced —blah blah you don't care what this room was.|—actually you can't tell what this room used to be. It's far too trashed.}
    
*if (overjuiced)
    "Having trouble? Allow me!" you declare. You're fizzing like sunshine, floating on bubbles.
    
    "$!{mask}, she's more dangerous than she—" 
    
    *label shupwyrd
    You stop listening, bounding at Spring Breaker and barrelling her over. She snatches at you as she falls, and for a second you're drowning, lungs underwater, but you follow through and kick her away and you can breathe again. The bookshelf you threw her against teeters, falls, and she scrambles clear by the skin of her teeth.
    
    Spring Breaker screeches something you don't bother hearing as you shuffle from foot to foot like a boxer, coursing with adrenaline.
    
    *choice
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #She's no match for me. Keep it up and overpower her.
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #I'm feeling good. No harm in a bit of showboating.
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        #IT TASTES LIKE
            *goto youdonegoofed
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #I've had my fun, let's wrap it up professionally.
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #Keep pressing, but don't let my guard down.
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        #THE HEARTBEAT
            *goto youdonegoofed
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #H...hold on.
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        *selectable_if (overjuiced = false) #...something isn't...
            *bug okay Gremlink I see you editing variables. You shouldn't even be able to get to this option!
        #OF A DREAM
            *goto youdonegoofed
            
    
*else
    @{(expressive > 55) "Need a hand?" you drawl.|"I'm here," you say, clipped.}
    
    @{(expressive > 55) "Or a tendril,"|"That you are,"} Wyrd answers, visibly relieved. They're holding their bat one-handed, almost dragging along the floor.
    
    Spring Breaker glowers at you. "Two against one isn't fair," she whines petulantly. Her hair is damp and plastered to her forehead, droplets of water dripping from her fingers.
    
    "Don't fall for the act," Wyrd warns. "She's more dangerous than she looks."
    
    Spring Breaker's scowl somehow manages to deepen.
    
    @{runningonfumes You don't have the juice, literally, to drag things out.|} The longer you take to deal with this, the more likely Rocket is to wriggle away from the others. @{(scum_casualties >1) Those deaths would be for nothing.|}
    
    *choice
        #I'll work together with Wyrd to handle this.
            *set coopwyrd true
            
            'Unfair' or not, it makes sense.
            
            "Wyrd! Let's go together!"
            
            *if ((rel_wyrd > 70) or (hookup_wyrd > 1))
                *set goodteamwork true
                *set springscore +1
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
                "I'm all over it!"
                
                You move in sync with them, cutting off the room. Wyrd corrals the right, you take the left. Spring Breaker backs up, but there's only so far she can go before hitting a dead end. Realising she's about to get trapped in a corner, Spring makes the gutsy play of rushing towards you.
                
                Maybe she thinks she can incapacitate you with her power. Doesn't matter. You don't give her the chance to try, flashing out @{(speciality = 2) two|both} tendrils to intercept her. Spring Breaker attempts to stop short, but you simply continue your swing and smack into her chest, knocking her down.
                
                It's a solid hit, so you're a little surprised when she manages to pop right back up again. Wyrd's taken the opportunity to close in, and Spring avoids a swipe of their bat, yelping. Too bad for her that she's dodged into your range again, and you promptly club her in the spine. With a yowl, she dives into a forward roll, shockingly agile.
                
                For a woman who looks like she's stumbled out of the world's worst soiree, she can seriously take a hit. Still, between you on one side and Wyrd on the other, she's got nowhere to go.
                
                The moment you have the thought, a chunk of the floor gives way from under Wyrd's feet. They catch themself from taking a plunge into the basement, but it gives Spring Breaker just enough time to slip between the two of you and evade the jaws of the trap.
                
                *goto almosthadher
            *elseif (((rentcop = true) or (watson = 3)) or (rel_wyrd < 50))
                *set wompwomp true
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
                "Hold up—"
                
                You move. Wyrd, partway through arguing the plan, does not. Instead of corralling Spring Breaker into a corner, you're pretty much just going directly at her, and she's got more than enough time and space to scoot backwards and then to one side of the room, keeping you in her sights while ensuring she's not trapping herself in a corner. She's smirking as she pivots around you, thoroughly wasting your time.
                
                Frustrated, you try to cut the crap by pouncing straight on her, which of course is exactly when Wyrd finally gets their ass in gear, stepping in front of you right as your feet part company with the floor.
                
                It's not quite a head-on collision, but you clip them hard enough that they almost go down and you go completely off course, clattering onto the floor nowhere near your target. For her part, Spring Breaker cackles in glee.
                
                "Didn't realise we hired clowns for this party!"
                
                Shooting a glare at Wyrd you belatedly realise they cannot see, you rise, measure the distance, and launch yourself at Spring again. She shrieks, falling flat on her butt for another narrow miss. With a surge of anger, you renew your pursuit, chasing her all around the room. She moves damn fast in a dress.
                
                More by luck than intention, you wind up herding her towards Wyrd. She's retreating backwards, doesn't see them there, ready to lunge.
                
                *goto inopportune
                
            *else
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
                *if (speciality != 1)
                    *set wompwomp true
                    
                *else
                    *set springscore +1
                "Huh? Oh—yeah!"
                
                Ah yes. Words to inspire confidence in your ally. They move, but it's late, and instead of corralling Spring Breaker into a corner, you're pretty much in direct pursuit. She's got more than enough time and space to scoot backwards and then to one side of the room. Wyrd's not close enough to cut her off, and she slithers her way around the two of you before you can snap shut the jaws of the trap.
                
                Another attempt. Same thing again. Your teamwork isn't [i]bad[/i], exactly, just not quite good enough when all Spring Breaker seems interested in doing is waste your time.
                
                *if (speciality = 1)
                    [i]hunt. eat. hunt.[/i]
                    
                    Sensing—or receiving—frustration, the pair of nodes emerge from the shadows, their restless energy pulsing in your head. Spring's back is to them as they scuttle towards her. You keep up your pursuit and she retreats, retreats…
                    
                    [i]eat![/i]
                    
                    The lead node leaps, sinking its teeth into Spring's calf. You taste blood as she shrieks and staggers, twisting to see what's gnawing at her.
                    
                    "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" she screams, loud enough to shatter windows if there were any left. The second node jumps and she smacks it out of the air before grabbing hold of the one on her leg.
                    
                    *label sogginode
                    [i]wet? blood. eat.[/i]
                    
                    You feel water on your body, within your maw, diluting the coppery taste of Spring Breaker's flesh. The nodes don't—you think—actually breathe, but getting doused inside and out proves disorienting enough for it to loosen its grip and Spring to hurl it away, spitting an uninterrupted stream of curses.
                    
                *else
                    
                    At a pace one could charitably describe as @{(expressive > 70) 'fucking slow',|'inexpedient',} you manoeuvre Spring in such a way that her back is to Wyrd and she's retreating towards them. Wyrd tenses, ready to lunge.
                    
                    *goto inopportune
                    
        #@{(knowledge > 40) I'm pretty confident I understand how her power works. I should be able to avoid her tricks and beat her down.|Scrawny thing like her? Wyrd's worrying too much. Beat her down.}
            *if (knowledge > 40)
                *set springscore +1
                Although 'don't let her touch you' is a good baseline, you can do your tactics one better. You have the tools to prevent her even getting close.
                
                You advance on Spring, extending your tendrils out in front, a solid foot, foot-and-a-half longer than your arms. Spring blanches, realising what you're about to do.
                
                *label bulli
                It's the parahuman equivalent of a bully putting their hand on the short kid's head; Spring Breaker can't make contact for her power when there's a tendril ready to smack her every time she tries to close in. All you have to do is walk forward and use your reach advantage. Even when she manages to brush her fingers over a tendril midway through a swing or a shove, you feel no effect, the contact either too brief or too far removed.
                
                Just a matter of time before you walk her down.
                
            *else
                *set failspringfight true
                *set rel_wyrd %- 5
                You doubt she's 100 pounds soaking wet (so right now). Sure, Wyrd struggled, but Wyrd's less suited to a fight than you. This should be a cinch.
                
                Sliding into a fighting stance, you advance on Spring. A testing jab has her jerking back so hard she almost trips over her own feet. A follow up hook smacks into her hastily raised guard and still hits hard enough to almost knock her over.
                
                Yeah, this one's not even close.
                
                You ramp up the pressure with more combinations at a faster clip. It's not long before you make a solid connection with a body shot, sending air wheezing from Spring's body. You step in as she drops to her knees, feebly reaching out to wrap her arms around your leg.
                
                It's like getting blasted point blank in the face with a hose. Suddenly you're blinded and stumbling, water in your eyes@{(speciality = 2) —yes, [i]all[/i] your eyes.|.} You shake your leg wildly, flailing tendrils at your unwanted passenger, and after a moment she loses her grip. Almost immediately you can see again, though you're still swiping water from your face as Spring Breaker bounces back to her feet, flashing you a smug little grin.
                
        #Go at her full force. Wyrd probably won't like it.
            *set brutalspring true
            *set brutal +1
            *set springscore +1
            
            @{(rel_wyrd > 70) You do actually feel a mild twinge of guilt at the thought, but you brush it off.|Oh well. Wyrd can deal.}
            
            Giving no chance to react, you tendril-launch yourself at Spring Breaker, bodily crashing into her and bringing you both to the floor. Punching her in the face before she can even begin to respond, you feel her nose crunch under your knuckles with a gush of blood. Spring flails her arms around wildly and you vault backward and out of reach, denying her the opportunity to use her power.
            
            Surprisingly, she's both nimble enough and aware enough to exploit the opening, scrambling back to her feet while glaring murder. She touches fingers to her definitely broken nose and as they come away bloody, her expression contorts in fury.
            
            Not that you particularly care. Returning to the offensive, you feint a jab, drawing a flinch, then hit her with a leg kick, shin snapping hard against her calf. Spring buckles, even while trying again to grasp at you.
            
            Hey, good idea.
            
            You sidestep, coil your tendril around her hand, and squeeze until several somethings pop.
            
            Spring Breaker lets out an earsplitting shriek. As you relinquish your grip, she stumbles back, clutching her maimed hand. "FUCK! YOU FUCKING FREAK! FUCK!"
            
            Wyrd, midway through manoeuvring onto her blindside, catches your eye with a look that blends hurt, anger, and upset all at once.
            
            Glaring at you hatefully, Spring doesn't notice them. "I'm going to kill you slow," she hisses. "Nobody does this to me."
            
            Whatever objection Wyrd has to your methods, they haven't stopped moving. Now, with Spring Breaker's back fully to them, they lunge.
            
            *set rel_wyrd %- 7
            *goto inopportune
            
        *if (runningonfumes = false)
            *selectable_if ((speciality = 1) and (fighting_style = 1)) #Hear me out: Node gauntlets. [Combo: Nodes + Hand-to-hand]
                *set harmony +1
                *achieve synergy
                *set juice - 10
                *set springscore +1
                *set boxing true
                Spring Breaker's power is touch-based. Maybe she can bypass your membrane, but what if you add another layer?
                
                You reach across the mental connection and call to them.
                
                [i]eat. hunt. prey.[/i]
                
                The pair scuttle from the shadows and latch onto your legs. Their eagerness pulses through your mind, restless from lurking on the fringes for so long.
                
                Spring Breaker recoils. "How disgusting can you get? What are those [i]things!?[/i]"
                
                @{(expressive > 55) "Want a closer look?"|You ignore her.} Reaching down, you let the nodes scramble onto your arms. After a moment to wrangle them and 'explain' the command, they wrap their dendrites around your hands and cling there like a set of inky black boxing gloves.
                
                You don't give Spring a chance to figure out what you're up to, rushing in. Your punches are weighty and a little slow, but you adapt your technique on the fly, and Spring Breaker isn't half the hand-to-hand threat that Cannibal was. Her blocking is weak, her footwork clumsy, and her striking ineffectual. About the only thing you can say for her—as you slam a fist into her jaw and she stays upright—is that she can take a punch pretty well, though that's partially due to the nodes providing some padding. Which also transfers the unnerving sensation of simultaneously hitting yourself and ramming into something.
                
                [i]hit. pack! bite.[/i]
                
                Well, at least [i]they[/i] don't seem to mind getting squashed. Although they do keep trying to take chunks out of Spring on every swing, which you suppose in fairness isn't really a negative.
                
                At one point, Spring Breaker manages to get a grasp on one of your hands. Her face twists in triumph, then you knock her flat on her ass with the other fist, earning yourself an indignant shriek. A little water drips from the node, but that's all.
                
                Nailed it.
                
            *selectable_if ((speciality = 2) and (fighting_style = 2)) #Double the tendrils in an enclosed space? I've got all kinds of ideas. [Combo: Mutations + Adaptable]
                *set harmony +1
                *achieve synergy
                *set juice - 10
                *set springscore +1
                *set goalie true
                You don't get to play area denial often. Maybe you should start.
                
                Fanning your tendrils wide, it's stark just how much of the room you immediately fill. Spring Breaker's eyes widen as you unfurl to full size.
                
                "M-man, you really are a freak, aren't you?" she says, voice wobbling slightly.
                
                *if (expressive < 31)
                    You don't give her the comfort of a reply. With each breath you subtly expand, contract, expand, contract.
                    
                *elseif (expressive < 62)
                    "Careful. Might upset me, talking that way." You stretch just that little bit further, as if growing before her eyes.
                    
                *else
                    "And here you are, trapped in a room with me." You chuckle from multiple mouths. "Bad luck."
                    
                Spring Breaker swallows, retreating a step.
                
                And with that first step comes more. Your foe doesn't want to be anywhere near you, and with four tendrils and an extended body, 'near you' is a very large radius in a medium-sized room. Twice, Spring underestimates your reach and you punish her for it,  connecting hard with a swipe of the tendrils. Each time, she manages to pop back up before you can close in to capitalise. Despite being about 100 pounds soaking wet (so, right now), she can tank a hit like a champ.
                
        *selectable_if (runningonfumes = false) #@{runningonfumes Yeah I also don't have the juice, literally, to rely on my powers here.|Use my powers to take her on.}
            Wyrd's powers, unlike yours, aren't suited to direct combat.
            
            @{(content > 2) May|If you're stuck with them, may} as well use them as intended.
            
            *if (speciality = 1)
                *set springscore +1
                On which note, you've made the nodes sit in the shadows for long enough. They deserve a reward for good behaviour. You beckon across the mutual connection, and the low-level murmur itching at the back of your head buzzes to life.
                
                [i]eat. bite. hunt.[/i]
                
                The pair scuttles into view, scurrying over to lurk at your feet. Spring Breaker recoils. "What are those [i]things!?[/i]"
                
                @{(expressive > 55) "Want a closer look?" You don't stand on the quip, getting|You ignore her and get} straight into it, advancing on her. The nodes, impatient and eager, immediately break out ahead of you.
                
                [i]eat. hunt. prey.[/i]
                
                Spring lets out an ear-piercing shriek, frantically backpedalling. The prospect of a chase excites the nodes even more and they accelerate, bounding towards her on their spindly not-really-legs. Spring screams even louder, catching the first of them mid leap with a surprisingly agile kick, especially for someone in a dress and heels. But there comes node number two, springing up almost elegantly to latch onto Spring's leg partway through the motion. It bites into her calf and you taste blood. Spring completes the scream trifecta.
                
                "You fucking freak! Fuck! Get off of me!" Spring staggers, stumbling on her wounded leg, and grabs hold of the node happily gnawing on her.
                
                *goto sogginode
                
            *elseif (fighting_style = 3)
                *set juice -10
                *set springscore +1
                Shouldn't just go at her head-on; you don't know how her power—touch-based but non-localised—would interact with your membrane. Gotta be a little smarter than that.
                
                Your tendrils give you a commanding reach. With proper application, you can make that downright unfair. Concentrating, you pour some focus and some Juice into your extra appendages, and are rewarded with the sensation of growth. Even after all this time, sensory input from those limbs feels unnatural. They're wired into a nervous system that knows they shouldn't be there.
                
                Regardless, now you can advance on Spring Breaker, tendrils extended far, far ahead of you. She blanches, realising what's about to happen.
                
                *goto bulli
                
            *else
                *set juice -10
                Kicking off the ground with a juice-infused burst of speed, you charge straight at Spring Breaker, who screams and throws her hands out in front of her. You slam into her with enough force to bowl her over, then find yourself slipping and skidding on suddenly slick floorboards. You throw out your tendrils, attempting desperately to catch your balance, and just about save yourself from faceplanting. As you straighten and Spring Breaker pops to her feet with surprising agility, you feel moisture dripping over your membrane.
                
                It wasn't the floor that was wet, it was you.
                
                That's not ideal. Not being a little soggy—that's whatever—but the fact that Spring Breaker only had to touch you for a moment to affect you with her power. Could just be that she managed to get both hands on you at once but… best watch yourself.  
                
                You get back it more cautiously, using your powers in a passive role to bolster your speed, hit harder when you go for another swing. Spring Breaker keeps trying to snatch at your arms and tendrils as you strike at her, forcing you to pick your spots even more carefully.
                
                Luckily for you, you have an ally, and Wyrd isn't just sitting on their ass while you occupy Spring's attention. They've gradually manoeuvred onto her blindside, and now her back is fully turned. 
                
                They lunge.
                
                *goto inopportune
                
        *selectable_if (enhanced1) #The enhanced Juice is already bubbling inside of me. It knows its moment.
            *set juicingup +1
            *set doubt_wyrd +10
            *gosub juicing
            Tense, like your entire body is a clenched fist.
    
            Unfurl.
            
            It's so easy to loosen up control and let that lightning flow. It wants to flow, and your body wants to allow it, tired of holding back the storm.
            
            *if (overjuiced)
                *label relaxedsmile
                *set enhancedvsspring true
                A relaxed smile curls across your face. Everything's so bright and vivid, drenched in the afternoon sunshine.
                
                "I got this, Wyrd. Watch and learn."
                
                "$!{mask}, you can't just—"
                
                *goto shupwyrd
            
            *else
                *label warilywatching
                *set enhancedvsspring true
                Spring Breaker is watching you warily as you begin bouncing on your @{(speciality = 2) claws.|heels.} Heh, she thinks keeping her guard up is gonna matter.
                
                Power fizzes in your chest, pacing like a restless animal.
                
                You free it.
                
                Crossing the room in an eyeblink, you wrap a tendril around Spring Breaker and hurl her against the wall. She rebounds with a nasty thunk and you're there to catch her and throw her into the [i]opposite[/i] wall. You're humming faintly as you sprint over to catch her again. She snatches at you and for a second you're drowning, lungs underwater, but you simply toss her again. She slams into a bookshelf, spilling to the floor like a ragdoll. The furnishing teeters, then tumbles onto her with a crash.
                
                For no particular reason than it seeming kind of fun, you scuttle across the room on only your tendrils, then use them to push off the ground, pirouette midair, and come down atop the pile like an acrobat. Not a peep from Spring Breaker. Enemy handled.
                
                You bob your head to the joy singing through your veins, tendrils swaying gently in the air.
                
                "$!{mask}? You uh, you good?"
                
                Wyrd's voice makes you jolt. You'd kind of forgotten they were here. You look over to find that they're watching you with concern, eyes narrowed.
                
                "What? Yeah, I'm fine. Great, even."
                
                You sound… off. Too cheerful and energetic. That, more than Wyrd's scrutiny, snaps you back to when and where you're supposed to be. Right. S.C.U.M. Things to do. With a reluctant pang, you get the pulsating energy of the Juice back on the leash.
                
                "Okay, if you say so. Come on." Wyrd beckons you, slipping through a doorway into another part of the building.
                
                *page_break Follow.
                *goto rocketgreet2


@{failspringfight In the midst of that mess,|While you're occupying Spring Breaker's attention,} Wyrd has been manoeuvring onto @{failspringfight Spring Breaker's blindside. And that's a 'told you so' look on their face if you've ever seen one.|her blindside.} As soon as her back is fully turned, they lunge.

*label inopportune
It's, needless to say, an inopportune moment for a chunk of the floor to give way underneath them. Wyrd manages to catch themself from taking a plunge into the basement, but Spring Breaker hears the commotion, looks, and then scurries clear of the attempted flanking with a yelp of alarm.

*if (wompwomp)
    What even is this fight.
    
    *goto clamber

*label almosthadher
@{goodteamwork Sure. Okay. Why not.|}

@{goodteamwork At least having less room to manoeuvre should favour you and Wyrd rather than her.|Inconvenient, though you'd imagine having less room to move around favours you rather than her.} @{(mc_health >2) On the other hand, if you're talking advantages, the pain from your injuries is really starting to settle in.|}

@{(mc_health > 2) No choice but to gut through it.|}

*label clamber
@{brutalspring Wyrd is frowning deeply|Wyrd flashes you an apologetic look} as they clamber out of the @{failspringfight hole—seems you're both getting your egos punctured today—|hole, }@{brutalspring and they gesture|then gestures} at Spring with their head before pressing both palms together.

[i]Pincer attack.[/i]
*choice
    *if (coopwyrd)
        *if (wompwomp)
            #They really want to try that again? Well, okay...
                Attempt two can only be an improvement.
                
                *label samepage
                @{wompwomp And wouldn't you know it, starting out on the same page makes a world of difference.|} You coordinate with @{goodteamwork Wyrd once again,|Wyrd,} moving in tandem to cut off what's left of the space. @{(speciality = 1) The nodes scuttle to fill any remaining gaps. Sure|Sure} enough, with a hole on one side and a wall on the other, Spring Breaker is swiftly boxed in.
                
                *label closebox
                That's the easy part. Closing the box? A little more challenging. As a wise man once said, you can't beat her up without getting closer, and she clearly knows it, extending one arm out in either direction. She's baring her teeth, eyes wide and white.
                
                "Back off! I'll fuck you up!"
                
                You exchange glances with Wyrd. 
                
                They smirk. "Oh nooo, @{(rel_wyrd < 50) I|we} might get damp whatever will @{(rel_wyrd < 50) I|we} dooo?"
                
                …Yeah you're absolutely giving her too much respect. @{(instinctive > 45) Wyrd's right; the worst that can happen is that you get kind of wet.|Her power isn't that threatening; Wyrd can put a stop to anything she attempts long before it will matter.}
                
                You charge, Spring's outstretched hand not even slowing you down as it slaps against your chest. Ploughing forwards, you slam headlong into her, dropping her like a sack of potatoes. One flailing hand snatches your wrist as she falls, but it's not like she's strong enough to drag you down with her—
                
                *set springscore +1
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 10

        *elseif (goodteamwork)
            #Makes sense. That was working until the floor screwed us over.
                It's only sensible to stick with success. Minus the floor part, obviously.
                
                *goto samepage
                
        *else
            #I suppose it was kind of working thanks to the nodes.
                Might not even need them this go round.
                
                *goto samepage
    *else
        #Works for me. Let's do it.
            @{(rel_wyrd < 50) Your coordination with Wyrd isn't exactly amazing, less springing into action and more a disjointed stumble from the starting blocks. Still, with a sizeable hole in the floor and Spring Breaker's back almost literally to the wall, you'd have to be an idiot to screw this up.|You and Wyrd move as one, coordinating effectively. You trust them just about enough to count on them for their end, especially when there's a sizeable hole in the floor and Spring Breaker's back is almost literally to the wall. Their competence has never been in question.}
            
            @{(rel_wyrd < 50) Synchronised—ish—with|Synchronised with} your teammate, you cut off what's left of the space in the room, swiftly boxing Spring Breaker in. 
            
            *goto closebox
            
    *if (goalie) #I'm just going to keep doing the thing with my tendrils.
        *set springscore +1
        Why change what's working?
        
        @{(rel_wyrd > 55) You give Wyrd a minute shake of the head|You don't even bother acknowledging Wyrd} as you fan your tendrils out once again. Spring Break lets out a petulant whine.
        
        You'd have some sympathy, but she did call you a freak.
        
        Given Spring's limbs haven't magically grown two feet longer in the last couple of minutes, the strategy is just as effective as before. Moreso, even, since Spring's now having to skirt around a hole in the floor while trying to dodge around a four tendril assault. You avoid overcommitting, ensuring that you've always got a tendril spare to block off any escape attempts, staying flexible and alert to your surroundings. Soon enough, you've herded Spring into a corner, trapped like a rat.
        
        You don't expect her to take that as her cue to charge, screaming at the top of her lungs. You react with your tendrils, slamming into her body one-two-three-four and sending her crashing to the ground at your feet.
        
        *label rollthedice
        One last desperate roll of the dice. Tenacious, you'll give her that much.
        
        *label SLENDERMAN??
        Slender fingers wrap around your ankle.
        
    *if (boxing) #I mean punching her with the nodes is working. So, you know. More of that.
        *set springscore +1
        Why end a good thing?
        
        @{(rel_wyrd > 55) You give Wyrd a minute shake of the head|You don't even bother acknowledging Wyrd} as you step forward again.
        
        [i]eat. bite. fight![/i]
        
        If you didn't know better, you'd say they're enjoying themselves.
        
        Just like before, Spring really doesn't have any counter to the admittedly bizarre fisticuffs, and just as you suspected, the great big hole in the floor prevents her from slipping past you. It almost feels unfair as you land repeated combinations of punches; she may as well have both arms tied behind her back.
        
        It [i]almost[/i] feels unfair.
        
        Battered and stumbling, a cut streaming blood into her eye, Spring Breaker suddenly dives at you, flinging her entire body into a last ditch lunge. You catch her hard in the head on the way in, but it's not enough to disperse her momentum nor put her out for the count. Her arms wrap around your waist, securing a proper hold of you for the first time.
        
        *goto drowning
        
    #She's just going to keep running away. Maybe I can lure her in with feigned weakness.
        *set fakefall true
        If you can't catch the target, have the target come to you.
        
        Spring Breaker isn't going to buy you just keeling over, and her powers aren't really something you can exaggerate an injury from. Need to be a little more indirect.
        
        Fortunately, Wyrd's spill gives you an idea. The key is making it look @{(subterfuge < 31) natural, which you already know is going to be the biggest obstacle. You do struggle with subtle at times.|natural.}
        
        First thing's first: positioning. You bound towards Spring Breaker, adjusting the angle to better line yourself up with the hole in the floor. Spring, of course, scurries clear of your approach. You juke—

        *if (subterfuge > 35)
            *set springscore +1
            *set possum 1
            —gasp, would you look at that, you appear to have misjudged your footing and slipped.
            
            Wyrd glances at you, expression pained. Damn, you're good.
            
            Spring cackles gleefully. "Clumsy, clumsy!" She saunters up to you, reaching out to grasp and apply her power.
            
            It's nice when they put their head straight in the trap. You launch yourself out of the hole and headbutt her in the face. Her head snaps back as you secure your footing, then you slam @{(speciality = 2) two|both} tendrils into her chest and knock her to the ground.
            
            Wyrd's gaping at you. "I uh, genuinely bought that you fell."
            
            *if (expressive > 60)
                "I know, I'm fantastic. Hold your applause."
                
            *elseif (expressive > 40)
                "I'll take that as a compliment."
                
            *else
                You shrug. Pats on the back can come later.
                
            *goto SLENDERMAN??
        
        
        *elseif (subterfuge > 30)
            —feign a slip into the hole, scrambling to 'catch' yourself.
            
            Wyrd glances at you, and you think you see a flash of understanding.
            
            Meanwhile, Spring Breaker smirks. "Clumsy, clumsy!" She steps forward, then hesitates, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
            
            Dammit. You pull yourself up and lunge. Spring reacts just in time and you fall half a foot short. Doesn't matter, still in range. You punch her in the stomach in the same moment her hand locks around your wrist. 
            
        *else
            *set rocketprogress +1
            —and. Well.
            
            Okay, in your defence, you were [i]really[/i] concerned you wouldn't be able to convincingly sell slipping into the hole.
            
            You may have overcompensated, because you have now actually slipped into the hole. Spring Breaker cackles as you scrabble to catch yourself. Thank you, tendrils.
            
            "You're kidding me," Wyrd groans. 
            
            Clambering back out costs precious seconds. Wyrd chases Spring fruitlessly, the brief advantage nullified. She's darting past as you manage to get back onto solid ground and you make a desperate lunge, trying to redeem yourself.
            
            You thud into her legs, securing a solid grip.
            
            Unfortunately, so does she on you.
            
    *selectable_if (enhanced1) #The enhanced Juice is burning a hole in my pocket, and this is getting old.
        *set juicingup +1
        *set doubt_wyrd +10
        *gosub juicing
        You're bored. She's boring you. Does nobody understand that you've got bigger fish to fry?
        
        Honestly, you think you're owed some kind of medal for keeping your foot off the gas so far. The Juice is hungrily insistent, and you've behaved so well.
        
        *if ((scum_casualties = 3) or  (kill_cannibal > 1))
            Some faint tinge of alarm that this is not a normal thought, that you've done plenty already. Easily quelled.
            
        *else
            Yes. Why shouldn't you?
            
        With a resonant hum, you stop holding back the storm.
        
        *if (overjuiced)
            *goto relaxedsmile
        
        *else
            *goto warilywatching
            
    #Pin her down from range so Wyrd can close in.
        *set springscore +1
        *if (gooped)
            Hey, the goop worked on Cannibal, and that capability hasn't gone anywhere.
            
            You grimace as the misplaced nausea bubbles back into your tendrils. Wouldn't be your powers without the making-you-feel-like-shit.
            
            Gut through it. Your tendrils unfurl. Spring Breaker and Wyrd both look and stare. Four throats gag, then four gullets open, vomiting a volley of ichor.
            
            "What the FUCK!?" Spring wails, almost falling on her ass in her haste to dodge. The ichor splatters against the wall behind her, catching her in the spray.
            
            With what feels like your entire body gurgling, you start wrangling your messed up physiology for another round. Wyrd, thankfully, is quick on the uptake, taking the opportunity to rush towards Spring.
            
        *else
            The entire room is scattered with debris. You've got ammunition and you're not limited to one throwing arm.
            
            It's unorthodox, but you left ordinary behind when you sprouted tentacles.
            
            Half a shelf in one tendril, an ex-lamp in @{(speciality = 2) another|the other}, and you hurl both at Spring Breaker. She yelps and ducks aside, stumbling on her heels. Meanwhile, you're already reloading, grabbing probably-a-paperweight as well as a chunk of brick.
            
            To Wyrd's credit, they're quick on the uptake, and by your second volley they're rushing towards Spring, bat at the ready.
           
        You don't need to keep the suppressing fire up for long, @{gooped which is good, because as you spit again, you start feeling woozy.|though suppressing fire i's probably too grand a term for pelting her with a steady stream of random junk. Regardless,} Wyrd's on top of her, nailing her in the back with a swing of their bat. Spring Breaker drops, but as Wyrd steps closer, she twists around and stabs them in the thigh with a jagged piece of metal @{gooped she must have grabbed from the room's debris.|you probably threw at her.} Wyrd shouts in pain and you react instinctively, charging in there to prevent any more damage. Spring tears the improvised shiv free with a spray of blood, then you're there, disarming her with a blow to the wrist.
        
        She cries out, twists again, and manages to wrap an arm around your calf.
        
    #At this point, we'll catch her by default so long as we're careful. Won't be fast, though.
        *set springscore +1
        *set rocketprogress +1
        *set instinctive %- 10
        There's something to be said for taking a guaranteed win. With two of you to keep all the angles covered, you can steadily close the distance without giving Spring Breaker a shred of a chance to escape.
        
        You take a calculated step, improving your position slightly. It's only a small shift, but now if Spring tries to get past while hugging the wall, she'll be in tendril range. You glance at Wyrd, trying to facelessly communicate your intent. They frown slightly, but mirror your movement. Looks like the pincer move is happening after all. Just… slower than Wyrd was probably thinking.
        
        It's a strange, dissonantly silent dance as the two of you gradually approach Spring. Each time she jinks in a direction, you or Wyrd adjust to compensate. She makes a couple of attempts to dart through the tightening noose, but you're ready with a tendril for the first, Wyrd with their bat the second. Desperation mounts on her face the closer you get, a pair of implacable walls closing in around her.
        
        The whole thing takes no more than a minute. As a lull in the midst of this frenetic battle, it feels like hours. Wyrd's expression is strained as the sounds of combat continue to drift through the walls.
        
        Finally, though, you're at arm's—or tendril's—reach.
        
        At which point Spring Breaker straight up just charges you. Poised to act, you instantly ram your tendrils into her body and send her crashing to the ground at your feet.
        
        *goto rollthedice
        
    #@{brutalspring She's already hurt. Finish it.|Go as hard as necessary to finish it here and now.}
        *set stoppedbywyrd 2
        *if (brutalspring)
            @{(psycho > 1) Messing up her hand is a good start, but there's plenty more to break.|You've made a vulnerability. No prizes for fair play.}
            
        *else
            The faster the better, right? @{(brutal > 3) Violence gets results.|Violence is a necessary evil.}
            
        *set brutal +1
        *set rel_wyrd %- 10
        Tendril-launching yourself at @{brutalspring Spring—hey, it worked once—instantly|Spring instantly} closes the gap, your knuckles ploughing into her @{brutalspring already-broken nose. She|nose. It crunches with a spurt of blood and she} wails in pain.
        
        No let up, no mercy. You drive a knee into her stomach, elbow her in the jaw—teeth go flying—and then kick her in the kneecap; there's an unpleasant squelching pop as it buckles and Spring shrieks again, dropping onto that busted knee. You measure her for another hit—her head's at exactly the right height—and then are sent stumbling by a hard shove.
        
        Wyrd's expression is appalled, anger pouring from them in waves. "That's [i]enough[/i], $!{mask}! You don't need to fucking brutalise her!"
        
        As you ready a choice retort, Spring Breaker clumsily flops forward, propelling herself just enough to wrap her arms around your legs.
        
    #Tear up more of the floor so there's nowhere left to go.
        *set breakshit 2
        *set springscore +1
        @{(instinctive > 60) Can't juke around you if there's nowhere to stand.  Science. Probably.|Movement is the only avenue Spring Breaker has. So take it from her.}
        
        Wyrd moves closer to Spring, she edges a little further in your direction, and you promptly slam @{(speciality = 2) two|both} tendrils into the floor in front of her, shattering the boards. She screams, leaping backwards, and you dig your tendrils into the wreckage and tear up what's left in a shower of wood scrap. Every step Spring takes, you're right behind to smash the room to pieces.
        
        It's oddly cathartic to just break stuff, flexing your muscles in a way that was never allowed in captivity. Anything you destroyed back then was on command, a trained animal demonstrating its tricks. @{runningonfumes Even tired, this is sort of fun.|}
        
        Does make you wonder exactly what happened to damage the floor in the first place. Not like Wyrd or Spring Breaker could have weakened it like that.
        
        Speaking of, you shouldn't let the joy of demolition distract you from the task at hand. Wyrd's picked up on what you're doing and helping you herd Spring into a corner, and while she's keeping clear of the destruction, her desperate expression shows she knows what's up as you put her on more and more of an island.
        
        Her face twists and she takes a running leap to clear the hole. You're ready and waiting on the far side, catching her in your tendrils and slamming her to the ground, doubtless causing no less than a dozen splinters.
        
        *goto rollthedice
    
    #Wyrd can block her off, but I'm taking her out myself. It's faster.
        Chasing her around is taking too long, and if she retreats to Wyrd's side of the pincer, they've already demonstrated they can't handle her alone.
        
        Aren't you the heavy hitter? time to act like it.
        
        You motion to Wyrd with your head. They nod, moving around to better cut off the retreat.
        
        @{failspringfight Head on didn't work properly before, but you just need to… not let her do that again.|}
        
        *if (runningonfumes)
            *set rocketprogress +1
            @{(speciality = 2) All four tendrils|Tendrils} spread wide, you stampede at Spring Breaker, but even as you leave the starting blocks, you realise that you're asking too much of yourself. You don't have the energy for the kind of rapid assault you drew up in your head, and your gallop is more of a trot.
            
            Suffice it to say, Spring Breaker has all the time in the world to see you coming. She dances well clear, all but blowing you a kiss on the way past. You correct, lumbering after her, but now you're in Cannibal's spot from earlier, faced with an opponent much more nimble than you. If you weren't so utterly exhausted—but that could go for hours. If you had normal powers, if you'd drank the Juice, if you'd picked another place to explore.
            
            Fortunately, Wyrd doesn't stand there watching you flail for long. They step in with a swing of their bat, narrowly missing Spring, but herding her straight into your clutches. You gratefully take the opportunity to wrap a tendril around Spring's chest and slam her to the ground.
            
            Which, of course, is when she stretches out an arm and grabs you by the calf.
            
        *else
            @{(speciality = 2) All four tendrils|Tendrils} spread wide, you stampede at Spring Breaker, full throttle. She reacts fast, leaping aside, though that's not enough to prevent you clipping her with a tendril.
            
            What you don't expect is for her to grab on and [i]stay[/i] grabbed on, even as you lash the grappled tendril around. Water splatters everywhere and, scowling, you bring in another tendril to join in and wrestle her to the floor. You slam her against the boards once, twice, three times, and all she can do is cling to the tendrils in a desperate attempt to hold you at bay.
            
            The tendrils. They're… wet.
    
*label drowning
*page_break
One moment, you're feeling moisture on your membrane, the next, there's water in your mouth. Somehow Spring Breaker has bypassed the barrier, but frantic thoughts can't fixate on anything other than drowning. @{(speciality = 2) Extra mouths avail you nothing with just the one set of lungs, and you [i]feel[/i] the water filling them|You [i]feel[/i] the water filling your lungs} as you choke and @{(springscore > 1) thrash, struggling to free yourself.|thrash, vision swimming in blackness.}

@{stoppedbywyrd |"BATTER UP!"} A harsh clank of metal striking bone, and Spring Breaker shrieks in pain, grip on you breaking as she clatters to the ground, clutching at her shins. You roll clear, gasping and heaving and flopping around like a beached fish. Muted crashes, shouts, and thumping footfalls reverberate around your skull, which still feels submerged.

Down on hands and knees and attempting to shake off the sickening sensation of dry drowning, you get a bleary-eyed view of Wyrd and Spring Breaker rolling across the floor, exchanging wild punches as Breaker screams bloody murder. @{stoppedbywyrd That she's managing this right after a brutal beatdown is astounding.|}

*if (springscore > 1)
    *label glimpseof
    *set wyrdgills true
    You catch a glimpse of something… off with Wyrd. Their neck is slitted, almost resembling gills, but protruding too far out for that to be fully accurate.
    
    As you look on, Wyrd, a fine sheen of water coating their skin, manages to snake a forearm underneath Spring Breaker's chin, secure a grip on their opposite bicep, and proceed to choke her out.
    
    They take a moment to confirm Spring's unconsciousness, then get up and shake themself like a dog. The gill-like ridges are gone from their neck. Those didn't fit what you know about their powers, and if you're not mistaken, Wyrd just deliberately hid them from you.
    
    "That sucked," they groan. "Are you okay, $!{mask}?" 
    
*elseif ((springscore = 1) and (observation > 40))
    *goto glimpseof

*else
    Trying to recover in any way you can is more important than keeping track of those two. If Spring Breaker can mess you up this @{stoppedbywyrd badly on one good leg,| badly,} then you don't like Wyrd's odds in a fistfight. Unless you get yourself back up and running, you're both in serious trouble.
    
    A gagging sound, then a heavy thud. You look around to see Spring facedown and Wyrd on top of her with an arm snaked underneath her chin, having just choked her out.
    
    Okay uh. Scratch the trouble, apparently. Wyrd gets up and shakes themself like a dog, a fine sheen of water coating their skin.
    
    "That sucked," they groan. "Are you okay, $!{mask}?"


You vomit water.

"Nice."
*set checkedonwyrd 2

*if (stoppedbywyrd = 2)
    *choice
        #Call them out for sabotaging me.
            *set rel_wyrd %- 5
            "Nice? This is your fault," you manage, through wheezes. "I had it handled."
            
            Wyrd's brow furrows, and they shake their head. "We're not doing this now."
            
            They don't give you the chance to argue, walking through a used-to-be-door into another part of the building.
            
        #Drop it; this isn't the time.
            *set stoppedbywyrd 3
            Arguments can be saved for after the mask fight.
            
            *label pulltogether
            Wyrd beckons, and you pull yourself together to follow them through a used-to-be-door into another part of the building.
            
            *page_break
            *goto rocketgreet
        #Drop it; I got carried away.
            *set stoppedbywyrd 4
            You hurt Spring Breaker pretty badly back there. Wyrd could have interfered in a way that didn't get you halfway drowned, sure, but you were pretty out of control.
            
            Topic for later, maybe. There's one more mask to fight.
            
            *goto pulltogether

*else
    *goto pulltogether
    

*comment Wyrd continues to have a hard time with Spring Breaker. Architect gets his bell rang by Rocket, but Teddie finally gets in close and crashes her through a wall.
*comment help Wyrd with spring breaker, fast or slow. if particularly slow rocket just gets away here. brutal options.
*comment SB is down. Teddie crashes down beaten up by rocket. architect blocks Rocket temporarily. she rockets a knife that hits Wyrd. Can either check on them or immediately join the fight
*comment if you've fought effectively up to this point, you can win while losing, mutually taking each other down. otherwise losing means she gets away. winning obviously is winning. 
*comment look for opportunities for combination moves to work on the synergy thing.
*comment as the fight concludes, uh oh, Hounds will definitely be here very soon.
*comment Architect nabs Rocket with Wyrd.
*comment alternatively, Architect nabs as much stuff as he can with Wyrd. Either way, Dime and Teddie are escaping together.
*comment the nearest place that makes sense to go to is... shipping container central. oh boy.
*comment alternatively alternatively, juiceless Dime collapses with exhaustion and has to mumble out where to go.
*comment alternatively alternatively alternatively, Dime comes back to lucidity covered in blood and manages to tell Teddie where to go. then remembers that they mcfucking ate her.
*comment scene w/teddie. potentially patching things up (even if you punched him). this is your last chance though. helping him out with the Bones (tm).
*comment yes this can segue into fucking
*comment damn bitch you live like this?
*comment work in getting to see your name for him in your phone. Kay shows up having shaken her tail. it is Very Awkward if you two just banged.
*comment swivel to interrogation or sifting through information. rocket caves instantly if you ate SB because uh of course she does.


*label rocketgreet
*if springscore = 1
    *set rocketprogress +1

*elseif springscore = 0
    *set rocketprogress +2
    
*label rocketgreet2
You emerge into an entry hall, barely recognisable as the room Cannibal launched you from to kick off the fight. There's so much wreckage that only the staircase leading up to the second storey landing rings familiar.

As you and Wyrd look to the upstairs, Fracture staggers backwards through a blown out wall, then takes a hit to the head from something moving too fast to follow, sending him thumping to the floor. A familiar neon red figure appears in the gap, her signature sunglasses askew and hair coated in dust.

"Son of a bitch," hisses Rocket, spotting the two of you. She starts sprinting across the landing, but a golden cuboid barrier rises smoothly up to block her path. She sticks out a foot, stopping herself from running headlong into it. "Get off my ass! Fuck!" she barks over her shoulder. Another glance your way—Wyrd's already starting up the stairs—and with a grimace, she pulls a serrated blade from her waist. "Sorry, kids, mama's not got time to play with you!"  

[i]Crack.[/i]

The knife flies from Rocket's hand in a glittering flash, burying itself high in Wyrd's chest. They crumple, falling backward down the stairs.


*if ((stoppedbywyrd = 2) or (stoppedbywyrd = 3))
    *choice
        #"Wyrd!" I'm pissed at them, but I don't want them hurt.
            *label checkonwyrd
            *set rocketprogress +1
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
            *set checkedonwyrd 4
            You're with Wyrd in an instant as they slide to the floor. The knife is slammed to the hilt—[i]past[/i] the hilt—right above their heart, just a couple of inches visible outside their body. You stare, not knowing where to even begin as blood oozes around the mostly-impaled weapon.
            
            *label blinkingrapidlywyrd
            Blinking rapidly, face pale, Wyrd meets your eyes. They shoot you a sanguine grin. "Aw. You do care." They don't sound nearly as pained as you'd expect for someone with a knife railgunned into their chest.
            
            "Not the time for jokes, Wyrd!" you snap, checking them over as if you'll find a magical knife-extraction tool upon their person.
            
            "$!{mask}, I'm fine." Your eyes flick back to their face, deadly serious now. "Trust me. Go get her." They [i]are[/i] in pain, you realise, but you sense no duplicity. They believe what they're saying.
            
            "Just… try not to move," you tell them, springing to your feet and hustling up the stairs, Wyrd calling a faint 'aye-aye!' behind you.
            
            *label thankfullythedelay
            *page_break
            
            *if (rocketprogress >= 4)
                The delay is costly. On the landing, Rocket has already loaded up with a golf ball in each hand. Dual cracks, one blasting at you, the other point blank into Architect's barrier. You hit the deck, the ball sizzling overhead while a stair jabs you painfully in the ribs.
                
                *goto waverandfade
                
            *else
                Thankfully, the delay isn't as costly as it could have been. You're halfway up the stairs by the time Rocket manages to crack Architect's barrier and resume running, almost at the top when she vanishes through a door. Architect emerges on your left as you reach the summit; you bank hard to the right and keep on running.
                
                *goto rocketscrabbling
 
        #Take care of Rocket first.
            *label takecarerocket
            If she gets away, all of this will be for nothing. Besides, you're no doctor, there probably isn't anything you can do to help.
            
            *goto pursuerocket
        #They have super durability, they're fine.
            *label durability
            You've seen Wyrd walk off getting trucked by Surpass. If they can handle that, they can handle a stabbing.
            
            *goto pursuerocket
                        
*else
    *choice
        #"Wyrd!" I rush to their side.
            *goto checkonwyrd
        *if (rel_wyrd > 65) #No, no, no.
            *set rocketprogress +1
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
            *set checkedonwyrd 4
            *set doubt_wyrd -5
            
            You freeze, staring as Wyrd slides to the floor. Blood oozes through their jacket and onto their chest, the knife slammed into them [i]past[/i] the guard, just a couple of inches of the hilt visible outside their body. 
            
            They're impaled right above the heart.
            
            It—it happened too fast. You couldn't—there wasn't time—
            
            A faltering step towards them, then another.
            
            Their head turns. Their eyes are sharp and focused, taking you in. They blink. Surprise? "$!{mask}. $!{mask}! I'm fine. Calm down."
            
            Your stuttering heart resumes beating. "Wyrd?"
            
            "Yeah. Don't worry." They smile. It's a little pained, but it's also honest. "I'm okay. Trust me. Go get her."  
            
            You swallow. You don't want to leave them there, but they're telling you to. "You… you better be telling the truth," you whisper, then hustle past them to head up the stairs.
            
            *goto thankfullythedelay
  
        #@{(rel_wyrd > 60) Reluctantly, I prioritise Rocket.|Take care of Rocket first.}
            *if (rel_wyrd > 60)
                It doesn't feel good to leave them there, but if Rocket gets away, all of this will be pointless. You're not a doctor. The best you can do for Wyrd is end this as quickly as possible.
                
                *goto pursuerocket
                
            *else
                *goto takecarerocket
        #I'm paralysed. What should I do?
            *set rocketprogress +1
            *set checkedonwyrd 3
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 5
            Wyrd's hurt. Bad. Rocket's trying to escape. You can't help them and stop her at the same time.
            
            You can't move, eyes darting between Wyrd on the floor and Rocket at the top of the stairs. It's a sickly sort of familiar. Blood oozes through Wyrd's jacket, the knife slammed into them [i]past[/i] the guard, just a couple of inches of the hilt visible outside their body. Now your eyes stay, transfixed on the wound. How could you even begin to… 
            
            "$!{mask}. $!{mask}, [i]hey[/i]." You blink, refocus. Wyrd's looking at you, their own eyes clear and unclouded. "Snap out of it."
            
            You stare at them. They seem… okay? There's pain in their voice, but they're calm enough.
            
            "$!{mask}, I'm alright. Go get her." 
            
            With difficulty, you shake off your paralysis and hustle past Wyrd to head up the stairs. They better not be lying.
            
            *goto thankfullythedelay
        #They have super durability, they're fine.
            *goto durability
        *if (rel_wyrd > 65) #...but what if they're not?
            *set rocketprogress +1
            *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
            *set checkedonwyrd 4
            You only make it one step—one thought—through brushing off Wyrd's wound before you're diverting course to their side. If their durability is proof against the knife, why is it [i]in their chest?[/i]
            
            It's lodged deep, too, slammed to the hilt—[i]past[/i] the hilt—right above their heart, just a couple of inches visible outside their body. You stare, not knowing where to even begin as blood oozes around the mostly-impaled weapon.
            
            *goto blinkingrapidlywyrd
        

*label pursuerocket

Leaping over Wyrd, you start racing up the stairs.

*if (rocketprogress >= 4)
    On the landing, Rocket has a golf ball in each hand. Dual cracks, one blasting at you, the other point blank into Architect's barrier. You think. You're a little busy hitting the deck—a stair painfully jamming into your ribs—to take a closer look.
    
    *label waverandfade
    You spring back up and see Architect's barrier waver and fade. Rocket charges the rest of the way across the landing and through a door. You're less than halfway up the stairs.
    
    Architect emerges as you resume rushing up there. He's limping, helmet marred by sooty streaks. You don't acknowledge him, taking a hard right as you finish climbing. @{(rocketprogress > 4) A flash of red vanishes in the window of the room beyond.|Rocket's at the window of the room beyond and vaults through it.}
    
    *if (rocketprogress >= 5)
        You dash to the window. Below is the short alleyway to the back of the house, and Rocket is already almost around the corner.
        
        *choice
            *selectable_if (enhanced1) #@{enhanced1 Harness the enhanced Juice. It's the only way I'm catching her.|Maybe I could catch her using the enhanced Juice, but without it...}
                *gosub juicing
                
                The frantic energy inside of you almost seems to swell in anticipation, like it senses your attention.
                
                You let loose its shackles, and your body and mind light up in humming chorus.
                
                Rocket's out of view as you burst through the window, but you catch yourself with a tendril on each wall and propel yourself forward, swaying from side to side as you alternate pushes on the left and right.
                
                You're fast. Fast enough that Rocket is still hurrying across the paved postage stamp of a backyard when you get around the corner in pursuit. She takes a flying leap at the wall on the far side and starts pulling herself over. You launch yourself like an arrow, tendrils pulsing with overflowing vigour.
                
                Brick explodes to dust as your tendrils utterly obliterate the wall with Rocket still atop it. You snatch her from the air before she can hit the ground, flourishing for an imaginary audience. @{overjuiced A giddy sensation thrums through your chest, and you have the inexplicable urge to ruffle Rocket's hair, even as she curses and struggles within your tendrils' embrace.|She curses and fights, an elbow thudding into your midsection. You barely feel it.}
                
                *goto juicedrocketoutdoors
            #It's too late. She's gone.
                *set rocketescaped true
                You clench your teeth as Rocket vanishes from sight.
                
                Footsteps from behind. You turn: Architect.
                
                "Rocket?" he asks, his defeated tone suggesting he already knows the answer.
                
                You shake your head.
                
                He swears. Then again, extra emphatic. "Come with me."
                
                Falling in behind him, you follow back to the main area of the house.
                
                *goto withinentryway
        
    *else
        You slam into the sill, Rocket's tumbling form barely eluding your grasp. Below, she lands hard, but not hard enough to prevent her from popping up and breaking back into a run.  
        
        *choice
            #After her!
                You clamber through the window, @{speciality the nodes scrambling to latch onto you,|struggling a bit with your awkwardly-shaped body,|carapace scraping against its frame,|DUMMY} and plunge down after Rocket, catching yourself with your tendrils just short of hitting the ground. You're in a short alleyway leading to the back of the house, Rocket just ahead, just rounding the corner.
                
                Taking off in pursuit, you're hot on her heels. As you reach the turn, Rocket has scrambled through a wooden gate and into a paved over postage stamp of a backyard. Crossing the yard in a blink, Rocket launches herself at the wall on the far side and starts pulling herself over. Teeth clenched, you push the pace even harder.
                
                *if (runningonfumes)
                    At which point your straining, Juice-starved body simply gives up on you. @{(mc_health > 2) Between your empty reserves and your injuries, it's a miracle you lasted so long.|}
                    
                    *label collapsinghard
                    Your legs buckle and you collapse hard, utterly spent. You try to force yourself upright, but your muscles won't cooperate, stranding you on the ground. All you can do is watch as Rocket disappears over the wall.
                    
                    You've barely managed to sit up by the time Architect arrives, and even then you're propping yourself against the brickwork.
                    
                    Architect runs right past you, raising a cube from the ground and leaping atop it in stride, giving him a vantage past the wall. However, that's when his shoulders slump. He turns back and drops back to the ground, dismissing the projection.
                    
                    "Gone," he growls, then curses. Loudly. "$!{mask}, can you stand?"
                    
                    *choice
                        #Try to get up by myself.
                            Pressing a hand and a tendril to the wall, you shakily manoeuvre yourself off the ground, legs wobbling. You remain there for a few seconds, pulling together what dregs of strength you can. Gingerly, you take a step away from the wall's support, then have to catch yourself from toppling over, thrusting out your tendrils to stabilise. You're barely carrying your own weight.
                            
                            "It will do. Come with me, there's no time to lose." With little sympathy for your struggles, Architect turns and hurries out of the yard.
                            
                            Gritting your teeth, you follow. You only make it as far as the alleyway before conceding defeat and putting your hand back on the wall to keep yourself upright.
                            
                            *label staggerbackaround
                            At length, you stagger back around to the front of the house. Architect is waiting at the front doors; upon seeing you, he beckons impatiently before disappearing inside.
                            
                            *goto intothebuilding
                        #I reluctantly shake my head.
                            "Dammit. Here." He leans over and loops your arm around his shoulder, hauling you to your feet. He's stronger than you expected, or you're lighter than you realised, because he supports you fairly easily, even though you're putting almost all your weight on him. @{touchingokay |You grimace at the contact, but there's no choice but to bear the discomfort.} 
                            
                            Architect doesn't even check on you, just starts moving, forcing you to stumble along, one tendril extended in front like a walking stick. He's on a serious mission, all but dragging you as he marches back around to the front of the house and inside.
                            
                            *goto intothebuilding
                            
                    *label intothebuilding
                    You make your way into the building. Without the clamour of battle it feels eerily quiet, though it won't be that way for long. The resident superheroes won't ignore this type of commotion.
                    
                    *label withinentryway
                    *set rocketescaped true
                    Within the entryway, Wyrd rests against a wall. Their face is drawn and they're pressing their hand tightly to their chest, but they're not on the ground with a knife sticking out of them, so that's an improvement. As you and Architect @{indoorfight descend the stairs,|enter,} their eyes flick open.
                    
                    "Shit," they say wearily.
                    
                    "Agreed," Architect replies. "Plan B it is. Where's Fracture?"
                    
                    *goto postrocketsituation
                    
                *elseif (mc_health > 2)
                    At which point, your abused, ailing body simply gives up on you.
                    
                    *goto collapsinghard
                *else
                    Rocket catches sight of you as she swings a leg over. "Would you fuck off!?" she exclaims, then tenses, readying to jump down to the other side.
                    
                    *choice
                        #Plough straight through the wall!
                            *if ((guts > 19) or (speciality = 3))
                                *label koolaiddime
                                You break into a headlong charge, lowering your shoulder at the last moment. @{(speciality = 3) With the carapace to bear the brunt of the impact,|Juice pumping through your veins, lending you strength,} you crash into the wall, annihilating it. 
                                
                                @{(expressive > 70) "OH YEAH!" you belt out.|}
                                
                                *if (rocketprogress2 = 0)
                                    Brick and mortar rain down around you. Also a yelling, cursing supervillain. There's a moment where it looks like you'll be able to catch Rocket as she falls, almost bridal style—wouldn't that be a turn for this fight to take—but instead she twists, managing to land on her feet. Alert to opportunity, you lash out your tendrils, trying to snag her, but she eludes the attempt, stumbling across the freshly made rubble and just out of reach. Despite the inelegance of her evasive tactics, they're certainly functional. Rocket's combat instincts are finely honed.
                                
                                    *gosub rocketdesc
                                
                                    Still, there's no longer a wall between you and her. The only path out now lies through you.
                                    
                                    *goto rocketfarside
                                
                                *else
                                    Brick and mortar rain down around you. A few feet ahead, Rocket wheels around, yells something obscene, and backs up, keeping you in her sights while gaining distance simultaneously. Crafty.
                                    
                                    *gosub rocketdesc
                                    
                                    She's gained herself more rope than you'd like, injuring you to boot, but you're not letting her get away just yet.
                                    
                                    *goto rocketfarside
                                
                            *else
                                You break into a headlong charge, lowering your shoulder at the last moment.
                                
                                Thump. The impact rattles your body, reverberating in muscle and bone. Rather than crashing through the wall, you forcefully rebound, leaving a $!{mask}-shaped impression in the brick. The cracked wall sags at the middle, but holds together, giving Rocket the opportunity to slip from her perch and out of sight, leaving you with nothing to show but an aching shoulder.
                                
                                If you don't act immediately, she's gone.
                                
                                *choice
                                    #Double down on the wall. Another hit should do it.
                                        *set rocketprogress2 1
                                        
                                        You back up a few more steps and then charge once again. Weakened by the first attempt, the wall crumbles on impact, though it's less the badass wrecking ball you'd hoped and more the structure just giving up the ghost. Doesn't matter; obstacle is cleared. On the far side is another backyard, mirror to the first.
                                        
                                        *goto rocketfarside
  
                                    #Scale the wall.
                                        @{(rocketprogress2 = 1) You're already injured. Best not to try and brute force it.|Probably shouldn't literally beat your head against the wall.} You jump, tendrils latching onto the lip of the wall and providing more than enough leverage to flip yourself over and onto the far side. You land smoothly on the paved stones of another backyard, mirror to the first.
                                        
                                        *set rocketprogress2 1
                                        *label rocketfarside
                                        Your quarry is already making tracks for another gate, but she's not out of reach yet.
                                        
                                        *label rocketsecondyard
                                        *choice
                                            #It's a confined space. If I put my body on the line, I can delay her until my allies show up.
                                                *if injurydesc = 1
                                                    *set injurydesc 9
                                                    
                                                *set mc_health +1
                                                
                                                *set golfball +1
                                                
                                                Indoors, she could move from room to room. Out here, there are walls on every side and limited exits; if you commit to containment, her only option is to run you over before the cavalry arrives.
                                                
                                                And for all your faults, you're pretty good at not dying.
                                                
                                                You spring into action, pushing off the ground with one tendril, the wall with @{(speciality = 2) another,|the other,} launching yourself ahead of Rocket and cutting off the most immediate escape. Rather than charging in at her, you remain poised, tendrils held in position for more boosts as needed.
                                                
                                                Rocket's eyes narrow. "Oh. Being a little bitch about it, I see."
                                                
                                                @{(expressive > 60) "Sure am!" you chirp back.|If that's what she wants to call it, sure.}
                                                
                                                @{(expressive > 60) She lets out a frustrated laugh. "Least you know it."|When you don't respond, she sighs. "Fuck, you're boring."}
                                                
                                                Even while bantering, Rocket hasn't stopped moving around, taking careful, measured steps, fighting for position without throwing a punch. You move with her, matching her sidesteps with your own and preventing her from opening up the space to get past. She keeps going a little longer after trailing off, then clicks her tongue.
                                                
                                                "Guess I'm gonna have to—" Mid-sentence, she draws like a gunslinger, a golf ball cracking from her hand. You jerk your head and it goes sizzling past, but Rocket uses the diversion to charge in, taking a running boot squarely to your kneecap. Your leg buckles and Rocket spins away, trying to continue the momentum to rush straight past you.
                                                
                                                Not happening, you whip your tendrils around, snagging her waist and arm and flinging her back in front, though she manages to keep her footing, windmilling her arms to stay upright. 
                                                
                                                That sets the tone: Rocket comes at you and you block her, focusing purely on defence and only striking when the opportunity is on a platter.
                                                
                                                Opportunity rarely knocks.
                                                
                                                The last couple of attempts have smacked of desperation; you've stalled Rocket out for too long and she knows that time is running out. As you shove her away yet again, Rocket snarls and just goes for broke, lunging recklessly into the scant space on your flank. You tendril hop into her path, swiping at her with @{(speciality = 2) a|the} second and connecting with a thud, driving the air from her lungs.
                                                
                                                And she smirks.
                                                
                                                She wraps an arm around the tendril, levels her other hand at your head, and winks. "Gotcha, bitch."
                                                
                                                *if (mc_health = 4)
                                                    The second golf ball to the face hurts no less than the first, jolting your head back. @{(speciality = 3) You hear a [i]crack[/i] as the carapace splits, darkness swimming in front of your eyes. You|You can't see; did she get you in the eye? Either way you,}  lose your grip and your bearings, reeling, and then a blow slams into your temple. You drop to your knees, then—
                                                    
                                                    You think she kicks you in the head. You're not sure. Next thing you know, you're facedown on the ground, head pounding.
                                                    
                                                    With a groan, you roll over. The good news is that your vision is back. The bad is that Rocket is nowhere in sight. Distantly, you hear rapid footsteps, too far to catch. She's gone.
                                                    
                                                    *page_break Failure.
                                                    *label outsidefailure
                                                    @{(kniferailgun = 2) Palm clasped to the wound, you drag yourself back into the alleyway. At the same moment,|You drag yourself back into the alleyway right as} Architect comes around the corner. 
                                                    
                                                    He takes one look at you and curses emphatically. "Rocket?" 
                                                    
                                                    You shake your head. Architect swears again, with feeling.
                                                    
                                                    "Come with me, there's no time to lose." He turns and hurries back the way he came.
                                                    
                                                    @{(kniferailgun = 2) Your fingers are slick. You take a pained breath, grit your teeth, and follow him.|Gingerly touching your aching head, you grit your teeth and follow him.}
                                                    
                                                    *goto staggerbackaround
                                                    
                                                    
                                                *else
                                                   
                                                    The golf ball takes you full in the face, jolting your head back @{(speciality = 3) and embedding itself in the plating there.|piercing the membrane and biting all the way to the skin beneath. Something warm trickles into your eye.} Rocket releases the tendril and aims a strike at your temple, slamming home and sending you reeling. She doesn't let up, charging full pelt—
                                                    
                                                    You sidestep, grab her arm, pivot, and hurl her against the wall. Your vision swims and you stumble, but don't fall, taking a couple of seconds to regain your balance and bearings. By then, Rocket has managed to get back up, clutching at her back and grimacing. Her eyes dart to you, then the gate, then once again, she books it.
                                                    
                                                    *label shimmeringbarrier
                                                    *page_break
                                                    *achieve launchfailure
                                                    A shimmering golden barrier bars her path. Rocket pulls up short.
                                                    
                                                    @{(expressive = 60) You grin,|You smile tightly,} and tendril jump, launching yourself to slam bodily into Rocket's back, sandwiching her against the barrier. As you rebound, Rocket does too, and you move back just enough to ram her again, bouncing her head off the projection. She slumps to the ground with a groan.
                                                    
                                                    "Good work, $!{mask}," says Architect, lowering his hands. "I'm impressed."
                                                    
                                                    *label architectoutside
                                                    *choice
                                                        #"Aw, shucks."
                                                            *set expressive %+ 5
                                                            Architect makes a small, muffled noise. An escaped laugh, you realise.
                                                            
                                                            Another victory for $!{mask}. You're on a roll, today.
                                                            
                                                        #"Just doing what I needed to."
                                                            Architect nods. "Nevertheless."
                                                            
                                                            You incline your head, accepting the praise as it's given.
                                                            
                                                        #"Oh, uh, thanks."
                                                            Sincere praise.
                                                            
                                                            Still feels strange.
                                                            
                                                        #"It wasn't hard."
                                                            "How modest." He sounds very faintly amused.
                                                            
                                                            You @{(mc_health > 2) shrug and try not to show how beat up you are.|shrug.}
                                                            
                                                        #Nod.
                                                            *set expressive %- 5
                                                            "Mm."
                                                            
                                                            You look at him expectantly.
                                                            
                                                    "We need to regroup," Architect goes on. "Bring Rocket inside."
                                                    
                                                    You follow him around the building and back inside, the insensate Rocket bundled in your tendrils. Without the clamour of battle it feels eerily quiet, though it won't be that way for long. The resident superheroes won't ignore this type of commotion.
                                                    
                                                    *label withinentryway_success
                                                    @{indoorfight Downstairs,|Within,} Wyrd rests against a wall. Their face is drawn and they're pressing their hand tightly to their chest, but they're not on the ground with a knife sticking out of them, so that's an improvement. As you @{indoorfight descend,|enter,} their eyes flick open.
                                                    
                                                    "Oh good," they say. "Didn't get shanked for nothing."
                                                    
                                                    "Indeed," Architect replies. "We should discuss our next @{(rocketstall = 2) steps."|steps. Where's Fracture?"}
                                                    
                                                    *goto postrocketsituation                       
                                                                          
                                            #Burn through a bunch of @{fighting_style Juice to bolster my reflexes and strength, battling head on.|Juice, charging myself up to exploit any and all openings.|Juice for a spectacular display of power mastery.|DUMMY}
                                                *set juice -20
                                                *set outsidejuicerocket true
                                                
                                                *if (rocketprogress2 =1)
                                                    *set juice -5
                                                    *set dependence +1
                                                    
                                                Rocket's the only one left, and you're flying solo. What are you conserving energy for?
                                                
                                                *gosub bigjuicerocket
                                                
                                                Taking deep breaths, you clamber to your feet.
                                                
                                                "$!{mask}, are you—ah." Architect has appeared. He looks you up and down, then over to Rocket. "Good work. I'm impressed."
                                                
                                                *goto architectoutside
                                            #Let her think she has me beaten, then catch up to and ambush her.
                                                Escape is all that's on Rocket's mind. Your best bet is taking her out in one blow, but to do that, you need an opening. The downside is that if you misjudge this, she's definitely getting away.
                                                
                                                Gonna have to commit. You lunge at Rocket, too reckless and too aggressive. It'd be an amusing stroke of fortune if the feint actually landed, though, predictably, Rocket dips a shoulder and you sail past. You bunch your tendrils, twist, and go at her again. Don't exactly have to try hard to look the out of control monster. @{(speciality = 2) You can pull that off even when your jaw isn't doing its best impression of heavy machinery.|}
                                                *gosub rocket_talks_shit
                                                
                                                *if (early_can_mention = 2)
                                                    Looks like you got that piece of luck after all; S.C.U.M. have lost people before, you didn't expect the comment to throw her off that badly.
                                                    
                                                    Scooping Rocket off the ground, you head back towards the front of the house. En route, you encounter Architect.
                                                    
                                                    *goto ahyouhaveher
                                                
                                                                                                
                                                *elseif (lostandretain = 2)
                                                    *if ((subterfuge > 30) or (mc_health = 3))
                                                        *goto good_sub_rocket
                                                        
                                                    *else
                                                        *goto bad_sub_rocket
                                                    
                                                *elseif (lostandretain = 3)
                                                    *label getstabbedidiot
                                                    *set mc_health 4
                                                    *if injurydesc =1
                                                        *set injurydesc 9
                                                    *set kniferailgun 2
                                                    You crash to the ground, struggling to breathe. Rocket's feet patter as she beats a retreat, making good her escape.
                                                    
                                                    *page_break Failure.
                                                    You grasp the hilt of the blade buried in your stomach. Closing your eyes, you brace yourself, then pull. You feel a spurt of blood and ichor, then the Juice does its job and closes the wound. @{(expressive > 60) Ish;|More or less;} wetness still oozes between your fingers as you press a hand to the hole. Yanking the knife out would be a death sentence for a normal person. For you, it's practically procedure.
                                                    
                                                    *goto outsidefailure
                                                    
                                                    
                                                *elseif (subterfuge > 36)
                                                    *label good_sub_rocket
                                                    Shaking off the distraction, you rush in again, and finally Rocket swallows the hook, sidestepping and shoving you in the back. More under control than you're letting on, you feign losing balance and go careening into the wall, subtly cushioning the landing with your tendrils. You begin to rise, faux-unsteady, then collapse back to the ground, clutching your head.
                                                    
                                                    *label rocketbreakinto
                                                    You hear Rocket break into a run, and allow yourself a tight smile.
                                                    *page_break Sucker.
                                                    *set possum +1
                                                    *if (possum = 2)
                                                        *achieve playingpossum
                                                    Springing back up, you tendril-leap into the air, fully extending them as you sail into the alleyway beyond the yards. Catching yourself on either wall, you zero in on Rocket, now hustling towards the street beyond and what she believes is freedom.
                                                    
                                                    Time to burst that bubble.
                                                    
                                                    Scuttling along the walls is quieter than you may expect, and Rocket is too focused on her goal to pay proper attention. She doesn't know you're coming until you crash down upon her from above, flattening her onto the concrete.
                                                    
                                                    Maybe not even then, because she sure isn't conscious enough to react after your stunt. Something to do with her face being smashed against the ground, you expect.
                                                    
                                                    After a couple of rough nudges to ensure Rocket isn't turning your own trick back on you, you scoop her up and head on back.
                                                    
                                                    Along the way, you find Architect.
                                                    
                                                    *label ahyouhaveher
                                                    *achieve launchfailure
                                                    
                                                    "Ah, you have her." A quiet sigh. "Good work. I was worried she was beyond reach."
                                                    *goto architectoutside
                                                    
                                                *elseif ((mc_health = 3) and (subterfuge > 20))
                                                    Luckily(?) you're injured to the point where the next part doesn't have to look all that convincing; the blood does a pretty good job of selling the ruse all on its own. When Rocket sidesteps your latest lunge and sends you careening into the wall, it's very simple indeed to simply sprawl and feign a head-on collision, rather than one subtly cushioned by your tendrils.
                                                    
                                                    *goto rocketbreakinto
                                                    
                                                *else
                                                    *label bad_sub_rocket
                                                    Shaking off the distraction, you rush in again, and finally Rocket swallows the hook, sidestepping and shoving you in the back. You feign losing balance, but as the wall comes rushing in to meet you, what you'd intended to be a subtle cushioning from your tendrils turns into outright stopping the collision. You allow yourself to sprawl regardless, clutching your head and faking injury, hoping Rocket wasn't watching close enough.
                                                    
                                                    "Ah da da da da! Don't think I don't see ya playing possum down there!"
                                                    
                                                    Dammit.
                                                    
                                                    Springing back up—no other option—you charge. Rocket's hand rises, and you see the knife in her hand the instant before it's propelled.
                                                    
                                                    Directly into your abdomen.
                                                    
                                                    She… had another…?
                                                    
                                                    *goto getstabbedidiot
                                                    
                                            #She needs projectiles to be effective. If I stay aware, I can prevent her getting any until help arrives.
                                                In practice, there isn't much Rocket can do to hurt you with her bare hands. So long as you can keep her in the crab bucket and not get yourself perforated, reinforcements are your win condition. Indoors. she could move from room to room. Out here, there are walls on every side and limited exits; stall, and succeed.
                                                
                                                With that in mind, you move to engage, getting in front of Rocket and giving her something to think about with a broad swipe of your tendrils, which she handily ducks.
                                                
                                                "Getting real sick of you," she growls, going for her bandolier. A golf ball pops into her hand and you slap it to the ground, then volley it over the closest wall, prompting a frustrated "Fuck offfff!"
                                                
                                                It's a weird, pseudo-defence, pseudo-offence way of fighting. You're trying to get your hits in, but always keeping a little something back, always maintaining a half eye on exactly how Rocket is moving, both her overall position and her hands. When another golf ball materialises in her grasp, you're out of the way before the shot fires, when she strays towards the stray bricks on the ground, you're moving, swiping tendrils or throwing punches to drive her away. A couple of times, she out and out makes another break for it, but without the benefit of a head start, she's not escaping the reach of your tendrils.  
                                                
                                                No matter how often you yank her back into the yard or knock away a would-be piece of ammo, Rocket doesn't stop moving for a split second, nor limit herself to grasping for freedom. She punches, kicks, and grapples, clawing for every inch. You block some hits, are forced to take others, hard enough that you have to concede that, yeah, okay, maybe she can actually hurt you with her bare hands. Just not fast enough that it's going to matter; the cavalry can't be far.
                                                
                                                You clash once more, striking Rocket across the face. She falls to her hands and knees, turning 180 degrees in the process to put her back to you. A glittering invitation @{(observation > 34) to—wait. One of her arms is tucked inward. She's reaching into her jacket, and that can only mean—|to finish her off. No need to wait if you can win here and now. You move towards her, tendrils poised and ready, and then she rolls onto her back.}
                                                
                                                *if (observation > 34)
                                                    Rocket rolls onto her back, steel flashing in her hand. You're already moving, and as the familiar retort of her power splits the air, you swipe your outstretched tendril, smacking her wrist. The knife blasts from her hand, screaming past your ear as it slices through the air.
                                                    
                                                    "Fuck!" Rocket screams. "Nearly fucking killed you, asshole!"
                                                    
                                                    *if (expressive > 60)
                                                        "Should I be flattered that you're mad about it?"
                                                        
                                                        "Abso-fucking-lutely not!"
                                                    
                                                    *elseif (expressive > 40)
                                                        "Don't shoot knives, then!"
                                                        
                                                        "Fuck you!"
                                                        
                                                    *else
                                                        You don't comment. If that's a concern of hers, then perhaps don't use knives?
                                                        
                                                        "Ugh, fuck you and your stupid blank face!"
                                                        
                                                    With Rocket deprived of her weapon, you move in on her again. She kicks up, driving both of her boots into your chest, then again into your stomach. Air rushes out of you as Rocket rolls backward and up to her feet. Her eyes dart to the nearest gate, then you, then the gate again. Then, she turns and runs.
                                                    *goto shimmeringbarrier 
                                                        
                                                *else
                                                    Steel flashes in her hand. Where did she—her jacket, inside her damn jacket!—
                                                    
                                                    The retort of her power splits the air and the knife launches on an express lane trip to your abdomen. As it buries there with a wet thunk, your mind whirls. Not close enough. Weren't watching close enough.
                                                    
                                                    *goto getstabbedidiot
                                                    

                                    *selectable_if (speciality = 1) #Launch a node over there to delay her.
                                        *set rocketprogress2 -1
                                        Freeloaders have just been along for the ride. They've gotta contribute somewhere.
                                        
                                        Peeling the node from your leg, you weigh it up in your hand, then pitch it over the wall.
                                        
                                        [i]hunt. eat. fly!?[/i]
                                        
                                        "FUCK! FUCKING THING!"
                                        
                                        You feel its excitement, taste a hint of copper. Must have been a direct hit. You run up to the wall, catch on with your tendrils, and swing yourself over. On the far side in a yard the mirror of the first, Rocket grapples with the node, which is gnawing merrily on her forearm.
                                        
                                        [i]blood. eat.[/i]
                                        
                                        As you touch down, Rocket manages to tear the node loose, promptly punting it across the yard. Pain puts a brief stumble in your step, but it doesn't matter. You've caught up.
                                        
                                        Rocket flips you off, glaring daggers.
                                        *goto rocketsecondyard

                        #Climb after her; I should be faster.
                            You sprint for the wall, taking a running leap as Rocket slithers down the other side. Catching the lip of it with your tendrils, you nimbly vault across, touching down inside a tendril's length of your quarry. Rocket's already diving forward as you lunge at her, tucking into a roll and springing back to her feet.
                            
                            *gosub rocketdesc
                            
                            *goto pinherdown
                        #Try to drag her back into the yard.
                            *set golfball 2
                            *if (injurydesc = 1)
                                *set injurydesc 9
                                
                            *set mc_health +1
                            
                            You sprint for the wall, tendrils poised. Rocket starts to slip down to the other side, but you manage to slither a tendril around her ankle, snagging her at the last second.
                            
                            "God fucking—get the fuck off of me!" she snarls, kicking wildly.
                            
                            Obviously you're not going to do that, bringing in @{(speciality = 2) a|the} second tendril to secure your grip. Rocket, though, refuses to remain still and allow you to tie her up, scrabbling at her bandolier. Just as you coil the other tendril around her leg, a golf ball pops into Rocket's hand.
                            
                            At this range, she can't miss.
                            
                            The cracking retort of Rocket's power overlaps almost entirely with blinding pain as the shot takes you full in the face, @{(speciality = 3) embedding itself in the plating there. Ugh! Hurts like crazy even with the armour!|piercing the membrane and biting all the way to the skin beneath. Something warm trickles into your eye.}
                            
                            *if (speciality = 3)
                                But it doesn't have to block the hit entirely, only block it [i]enough[/i]. Despite getting nailed, your grasp on Rocket is unbroken, and with a guttural yell you haul her from her perch, casting her to the ground.
                                
                                "Motherfucker!" she yelps, still managing to roll into the fall and get back up.
                                
                                *gosub rocketdesc
                                
                                *label pinherdown
                                So, best you pin her down before she slithers any further, yes?
                                *goto rocketfarside
                                
                            *else
                                Dazed and struggling to see, you find your grasp broken, and you drop back to the ground before you fall. You catch a glimpse of a Rocket-shaped blur slithering down the far side of the wall.
                                
                                *choice
                                    #I've got to climb after her!
                                        *set rocketprogress2 +1
                                        
                                        Shaking off the cobwebs, you take a standing leap, tendrils snagging the lip of the wall. Hauling yourself across, you drop onto the paved stones of another yard, the mirror of the first.
                                        
                                        *goto rocketfarside
                                        
                                    #Bust through the wall!
                                        *if (guts > 19)
                                            *set rocketprogress2 +1
                                            *goto koolaiddime
                                            
                                        *else
                                            Shortly thereafter, you're rebounding hard enough from a charge into the wall that it sits you down, leaving you with nothing to show for it but an aching shoulder, which pairs nicely with your developing headache.
                                            
                                            Not strong enough. Maybe a couple more attempts would do it, but Rocket's long gone by then.
                                            
                                            …Long gone by [i]now[/i], to be frank. Continuing with this is pointless.
                                            
                                            Gritting your teeth, you lean against the wall and wait.
                                            
                                            You're not waiting long. Architect emerges around the corner, takes one look at you, and curses. "Rocket?"
                                            
                                            You shake your head.
                                            
                                            He swears again, more emphatic. "Come with me." He turns and disappears back from where he came. You follow.
                                            
                                            *page_break
                                            Soon, you're at the front of the house. Architect is waiting at the busted doors; upon seeing you, he beckons impatiently before disappearing inside.
                                            
                                            *goto intothebuilding
                                            

            *selectable_if (enhanced1) #Harness the enhanced Juice to make damn sure I catch her.
                *gosub juicing
                
                *set enhancedvsrocket true
                You're sick of playing games. This ends now.
                
                The frantic energy inside of you almost seems to swell in anticipation, like it senses your attention.
                
                You let loose its shackles, and your body and mind light up in humming chorus.
                
                You're through the window in an explosion of shattering glass, tendrils whipping out to catch you against either wall of the alleyway. Propelling yourself along, tendril to tendril, you eat up the distance to Rocket before she even reaches the back of the house.
                
                Launching yourself forward, you crash into her back like the world's biggest ambush @{overjuiced predator. A giddy sensation thrums through your chest, and you have the inexplicable urge to ruffle Rocket's hair. Instead you scoop her up in your tendrils, heedless of her punching and kicking. Not quite heedless. You're giggling.|predator, bearing her to the ground. She curses and fights, an elbow thudding into your midsection. You barely feel it.} 
                
                *label juicedrocketoutdoors
                *if (overjuiced)
                    
                    *set juicedrocket true
                    In an eyeblink you're back inside—(when did)—whirling Rocket around like a favourite dance partner.
                    
                    *goto youdonegoofed
                
                *else
                    *achieve launchfailure
                    Curling a tendril around each of Rocket's arms, you restrain her, take careful aim, and punch her in the face three times. After the third, her head is slumped, sunglasses cracked and hanging off her ear.
                    
                    Slinging her over your shoulder, you calmly walk back inside.
                    *page_break
                    *goto withinentryway_success
                    
            #Forget this. I can't be expected to do everything myself.
                *set rocketescaped true
                *set myteammatesareuseless true
                
                You've done more than enough for the success of this mission. It's not on you if the others haven't pulled their own weight.
                
                Rocket rounds the corner of the alleyway and disappears around the back of the house. You push back from the window, shaking your head. May as well have taken them on solo.
                
                Moments later, Architect rushes into the room. He looks around, then curses emphatically. "Come with me, $!{mask}."
                
                You roll your eyes and follow.
                
                *goto withinentryway
    
    
*else
    On the landing, Architect's barrier wavers and fades as Rocket blasts it with two golf balls simultaneously. You're already halfway up the stairs, and by the time Rocket vanishes through a door on the right, you're almost at the top. Architect appears on the opposite end as you reach the summit and you don't even acknowledge him, banking hard through the door after your @{runningonfumes quarry, desperately eking the last dregs out of your reserves.|quarry.}
    
    *label rocketscrabbling
    Rocket's scrabbling at the window as you burst into the room. She whirls around, one hand dipping into her bandolier.
                
    "Fuck it. Fine. Let's dance."
    
    She 'shoots' from the hip. A golden barrier rises in front of you and intercepts the projectile, sending it ricocheting away. Architect steps up to your side.
    
    "Ready when you are," he murmurs.
    
    For a moment, all is still, the only sound a quiet grinding from back on the @{(observation > 35) landing—is Fracture recovering? No way can Rocket handle three of you at once.|landing.} 
    
    *choice
        *selectable_if (mc_health < 3) #@{(mc_health > 2) Soaking up Rocket's attention would be a good approach if I wasn't already so badly hurt.|I soak up Rocket's attention to give Architect an opening.}
            
            *if (runningonfumes = false)
                *if ((speciality = 3) and (fighting_style = 2))
                    Though… hm. Come to think of it, you could go one better. You'd have to pump more Juice into the effort, but how about upgrading from meat shield into mobile protector? That strategy would be less reliant on Architect finding the right opening; you'd be forcing one. Plus, it wouldn't be banking on Rocket getting tunnel vision.
                    
                    *choice
                        #Yeah. Let's do it. [Combo: Carapace + Adaptable]
                            *set juice -10
                            *set harmony +1

                            *if (harmony = 1)
                                *achieve synergy
                                
                            This late in the game, it's @{(expressive > 55) stupid|foolish} to leave a better option on the table, and Rocket's too dangerous for holding back.
                    
                            *goto carapaceadaptablecombo
                            
                        #I'd prefer to keep things simple.
                            This has already been a long, difficult battle. @{enhanced1 With these Juice-jitters, you'd probably mess up the timing anyway.|You'd prefer to have something left in reserve.}
                            
                            Alright. Time to be the front line.
                            
                            *goto stepbackahead
                    
            You're clearly the front line here. Time to act like it.
            
            *label stepbackahead
            You step back ahead of Architect, @{speciality nodes scurrying along at your ankles as you walk slowly towards Rocket.|stretching out to the full unnatural height of your misproportioned body.|movements slow and measured. You plant each step heavily, putting the weight of your carapace into the thudding footfalls.|DUMMY} Rocket tenses, focus fully on your advance.
            
            That's the good news. It's also the bad news, because she pops yet another golf ball from the bandolier—how damn big is that thing—and into her hand, then levels her arm at you.
            
            The cracking retort of Rocket's power is something you wish you weren't getting accustomed to. 
            
            *if (runningonfumes)
                You try to dodge, but your body is uncooperative, fatigue dragging your reactions. The ball hits you in the @{(speciality != 3) shoulder and sticks, embedding into your membrane| shoulder, ricocheting from the carapace with a harsh crack.} Grimacing, you keep coming forward. It's just pain. You can handle pain.
                
                Rocket is more than happy to provide. Another golf ball, this one @{(speciality = 3) spiderwebbing fissures into your abdominal carapace.|thudding into your stomach, oozing ichor.} Then, Rocket stoops, snatching a piece of ex-furniture from the floor, and any relief that she's finally run out of ammunition is curtailed as a jagged metal rod comes railgunning at your head. You don't so much evade as strategically collapse, legs giving out underneath you as you thump to the floor.
                
                @{(instinctive > 55) If anyone asks, that was intentional.|Too close.}
                
                Though you're out of the line of fire, @{(expressive > 55) you're also, y'know. Out of the line of fire.|you're also no longer the shield you intended.} Rocket's got a clear shot at Architect again, and in moments, another volley of debris and fallen furnishings is blasting overhead. Jaw locked tight, you force your limbs to move, painstakingly levering yourself off the ground.
                
                You're up to your knees when Rocket deigns to notice you again, putting you back in her sights. You tense, knowing you won't be able to move, but in the same moment she fires, a golden barrier smoothly rises to deflect the shot. Call it a spike of adrenaline or your body's last hurrah, but that sure motivates you to push yourself to your feet.
                
                "Thanks," you wearily manage. Architect doesn't respond, just dismisses that barrier and forms another, walling Rocket from moving towards the door. You're pretty sure his coat has a couple more holes than the last time you looked.
                
                Alright. Body can't hold up to tanking her head on. Good to know.
                
            *else
                *set rocketscore +1
                *set fastflurry true
                …but in this instance, accustomed is also prepared. Looped over your shoulders, your tendrils act as a guard cage, intercepting Rocket's projectiles as they come. Each impact stings, scoring little sprays of ichor from your tendrils, but better taking the hits on extremities than vitals. Having apparently finally ran out of golf balls, Rocket switches to scooping debris and pieces of ex-furniture off the floor and firing those instead. You keep walking, keep closing in, and keep tanking shots.
                
                The closer you are, the harder it gets to react in time. Deflections cease to be an option, it's get the tendrils in front of you or get perforated. As a jagged metal rod impales your tendril, Architect makes his move, and it is spectacular.
                
                One projection directly under Rocket's foot, tipping her back and off balance. Another on her right, angled to ram her—a feint, the actual attack coming above and from the left, thumping her in the head. She staggers, and another projection rises from below her feet. She quicksteps off, walking directly into yet another, slamming into her at enough speed to put her on the ground. If there wasn't [i]another[/i] already rising, its twin descending from the roof to catch her between them—
                
                Not quite. Rocket manages to get off a shot from the hip, stalling the lowering projection just long enough for her to roll off her unwanted perch. She half-dodges, half-falls away from your reaching tendrils, then scrambles back to her feet, looking more than a little dazed.
                
                Behind you, Architect breathes heavily. Setting that up must have seriously taken it out of him; it's the fastest flurry of projections you've seen him pull off. Worth getting shanked in the tentacle, you think. You grimace as you yank the offending object free with a burst of pain. Yeeep. Totally… worth it…
                
        #Architect and I can work together to box her in.
            *set rocketstall +1
            "Help me out!" you call to Architect, moving onto Rocket's flank. Obviously, she turns in your direction, which is when Architect forms a wide cuboid barrier behind her. You close in, aiming to pin Rocket against the fresh obstacle, but she's alert to the danger, ducking sideways and aside rather than attempting to back into the golden wall. You stretch your tendrils to block off her route to the window, though it's at the cost of a thumping shot to the midsection from a super-accelerated household object, knocking the wind out of you. 
            
            Architect summons a couple more golden blockades to hem Rocket in, the motions of his hands tight and controlled. You shake off the hit and resume the chase.
            
            "Goddamn, is this a fight or a fucking obstacle course?" Rocket grouses, threading the needle of Architect's barriers with a running slide. She feints a punch at him, jukes in your direction, and then darts between you, gunning for the door. You whip out your tendrils again to bar her escape, and she skids to a stop then starts backpedalling. "Maybe if you weren't too chickenshit to take a swing, I wouldn't be kicking your asses so hard!"
            
            Well that's a little unfair. It's Architect and Fracture she's been up against, not you. Still, your ego isn't fragile enough for that to leave a bruise. Between you and Architect the exits are covered, and if Rocket's been running around this way since the fight started, she must be reaching her limit.
            
        #I follow Architect's lead. He's the guy in charge.
            *set instinctive %- 5
            *set rel_architect %+ 5
            *set rocketstall +1
            You glance at Architect, deferring. He takes the initiative, summoning a cylinder at Rocket's back. She's already moving as he gestures, evading the attack without even looking; must not be the first time Architect's tried that trick on her.
            
            Still, the attempt forces her forward, and you don't need an instruction manual to react accordingly and swing with @{(speciality = 2) all four|both} tendrils. She throws both arms in front of her, crossing them to bear the brunt of the combined blow. As you connect she drops backward, but rather than knocking her to the ground, you realise she's moving with the impact, rolling backward, through, and nimbly back onto her feet.
            
            "Nice try!" she hoots, casually launching a handful of debris at Architect to send him ducking. "Think I can't take a punch?"
            
            Architect attempts to ambush her with another projection. Rocket ducks it, scuttles aside as you advance, and then spits a curse as her attempt for the door gets walled off handily. "You two fucking suck, you know that?" She flips you off for emphasis. Rude.
            
            Regardless, between you and Architect you're stopping her from getting anywhere fast. He sticks doggedly to the strategy and you keep following his lead; clearly he's content with forcing the run around. Maybe he thinks she'll tire out. @{runningonfumes You can't say you mind getting to conserve the precious remaining drops of your stamina either.|}
            
        *selectable_if (enhanced1) #End of the line. No better opportunity to use the enhanced Juice.
            *gosub juicing
            *set enhancedvsrocket true
            *set doubt_architect +10
            Why hold anything back? You've reached the final curtain. Time to bring down the house.
            
            You look inward, and loosen the chains.
            
            *if (overjuiced)
                *set juiced_rocket true
                
            *else
                It crackles like electricity. You thump your chest once, twice, and again, a grin slowly spreading across your face.
                
                Heh.
                
                Cakewalk.
                
                Blink-quick steps to cross the room. Your fist surges at Rocket's head. She dodges, you put a hole in the wall behind her. Pull your hand back in a shower of plaster, tendrils moving faster than thought to grapple her arms, send the blasting report of her powers wayward.
                
                She struggles. You headbutt her, hold her weight up as she sags. Restraining her, you cock back your fist again, take careful aim, and punch her in the face. One, two, three. After the third, her head is slumped, glasses cracked and hanging off her ear. You pause, consider, wrap her in the tendrils, readying to drive her into the ground—
                
                "$!{mask}, enough. She's out."
                
                Hesitation. Your body quivers, holding Rocket up in midair. So soon? But you'd barely got started. It's not fair. What are you supposed to do with all this excess energy?
                
                *choice
                    #Reluctantly set her down.
                        With jittery motions, you loosen your grasp on Rocket and allow her to slide to the floor.
                        
                        After a moment, your head grows—clear is the wrong word. Less… filled with buzzing. You look again at Rocket, face down and barely moving. Another attack would have been totally needless, even gratuitous.

                        Architect arrives at your side, glancing between you and Rocket. "I appreciate that it's likely difficult to gauge, but @{killer unless you take more care with force, you'll end up with an even bigger body count."|you need to be careful about your use of force.!}
                        
                        *if ((killer) and (kill_cannibal > 1))
                            Ah. Reminds you of a certain dead cyborg. Problems for later.
                        
                    #Indulge myself.
                        *set brutal +1
                        *set psycho +1
                        *set rel_architect %- 10
                        *set gratuitousviolence true
                        Why shouldn't you have fun?
                        
                        You raise Rocket higher, then slam her down, floorboards cracking on impact. Air wheezes from Rocket's lungs, her body framed in its own personal crater.
                        
                        Maybe [i]one[/i] more—
                        
                        As you begin to peel Rocket out of the shattered boards, a golden archway springs from the ground and across her waist, locking her in place like a seatbelt.
                        
                        "Dammit, $!{mask}, what is your problem!?" Architect storms in front of you and stands over Rocket. "She's physically like-human, @{killer do you want to kill her too!?"|you can't hit her like that!"}
                        
                        Ugh. Killjoy.
                    
        #@{(fighting_style = 1) She specialises in range, I specialise up close.|} Strike fast, strike first!
            Close quarters eliminates Rocket's biggest advantage. The hard part is getting there.
            
            You hit the jets and charge, banking on the element of surprise. Rocket isn't quite quick enough on the draw and you drive your tendrils into her chest, driving her against a wall. Shifting to pin Rocket's shoulders with a tendril each, you cock back a fist @{(fighting_style = 1) and|to} start unloading.
            
            *if (fighting_style = 1)
                *set rocketscore +1
                One, two, three, four punches to the face, rocking her head in either direction, vivid welts blooming on her pale skin. She ineffectually rakes a boot along your shin, a little painful but not enough to stop you.
                
                Then you catch a glint in Rocket's eye, and feel her move against you. Waist height. Her hands—
                
                You shove her aside with your tendrils, pulling back in the other direction. The same instant, you hear the crack of her power going off, and something blasts across the room and whizzes through the open door. But for that moment of combat-awareness, you'd have taken the shot at point blank range.
                
                Lesson learned. If her hands aren't under control, she's just as dangerous.
                
                While you've given Rocket a bloody nose, rushing her like that meant you Architect couldn't do much in support. There's relief at least in seeing him throw up a barrier as Rocket tries to take advantage of the distance gained from your last-second evasive manoeuvres, blocking that particular angle of retreat. 
                          
            *else
                That's when you catch the glint in Rocket's eye. A heartbeat later, something blasts point blank into your gut, folding you like a deckchair.
                
                Her hands. You weren't watching her hands.
                
                It's hard enough, close enough of a hit that the wind's knocked out of you, and you're down on the floor for several @{(speciality = 3) seconds. Damn, she put an actual crack in your carapace. You take a little longer to shake off the hit, then finally|seconds before you} manage to clamber off the ground. Architect's managed to keep Rocket contained in the interim, but that's about the most he can do.
            
        #I'll just take a balanced approach and fight normally.
            Rocket's been keeping both Architect and Fracture at bay for the entire fight. She's about the worst opponent for you to try and get fancy against.
            
            @{(fighting_style = 2) You figure that's pretty solid reasoning, but|That's your reasoning, and it makes sense until} roughly the third time you get rocked by a super-accelerated household object. You're running into what you suspect is the exact same problem as your teammates did; this is someone who's been getting mixed up in mask fights for years, and she's led S.C.U.M. long enough that they'd all be behind bars by now if she was incompetent. It doesn't matter how big and bad your powers are when you're up against somebody with ten, twenty times your experience. Rocket has a sense for the rhythm and flow of battle, responding to anything you do almost before you think it, let alone enact it. You try all your usual tricks: tendril-boosted lunges, absorbing impacts on your membrane, rushing in close to attack, but whatever you attempt, Rocket's always two steps ahead. With such a gulf between you, fighting balanced just means fighting predictable.
            
            *if (fighting_style = 2)
                *set rocketscore +1
                Good thing you're pretty good at switching stuff up on the fly, huh?
                
                Rocket blasts a table lamp at you, prompting you to tendril-leap all the way to the ceiling. Thrusting out a tendril, you punch into the roof far enough to anchor yourself there; imagine if you could stick to surfaces outright, the options you'd have. 
                
                Sadly, you can't do that, but manoeuvring around with self-made handholds—tendrilholds?—isn't too bad of a substitute. Swiftly adapting to the rhythm, you begin swinging yourself from tendril to tendril, showering the room in splintered wood and plaster dust as you scuttle across the ceiling like an ultra-violent spider. The erratic movements and unusual angle of attack makes it far more difficult for Rocket to get a bead on you, and though you're not moving quite quickly enough to pin her down, you're making yourself enough of a distraction that Architect is able to blindside her with a cylinder out of the wall. She's sent stumbling very nearly into your clutches, and you take a vicious swipe at her with a free tendril. Rocket dives to the ground, and you only manage a glancing blow.
                
                Almost.
                
                Scrambling up again, Rocket plants herself in the middle of the room, keeping you and Architect in front of her. Trying to stay clear of the walls. You drop back to the floor in readiness.
                
            *else
                Architect isn't just sitting on his hands, but his power isn't exactly well-suited to the situation. His offence is telegraphed, and he has to spend a lot more effort on the defensive end in any case. Rocket is able to easily switch back and forth between shattering his barriers and forcing you to cover up or get messed up.
                
                Keep slamming your head against this wall and she'll just continue playing keep away. At least until she finds an opening to bail, which based on the glances she keeps making towards the exits, she's very much looking for. You back up to regroup and rethink.
                
            
        *if (runningonfumes = false)
            *selectable_if ((speciality = 1) and (fighting_style = 3)) #Use my mastery of my powers to make a node unstable. Then throw it at Rocket. [Combo: Nodes + Wielder]
                You brush a hand across the node currently clinging to your leg. You can feel sensations through it, but with a little effort—and physical contact—you start to be able to project your focus past the surface, the same way you do your membrane.  
                
                The nodes [i]are[/i] your powers, no different from the membrane and tendrils. They just happen to be able to walk around on their own. Concentrating hard, you sense the node's rudimentary structure, what's holding it together, the malleability of its form. Loosen a few of those bonds and… yeah. It'll work. You can turn the thing into a walking bomb.
                
                Really, it's no different from reshaping the tendrils into spikes, or altering the membrane's consistency. 
                
                [i]eat?[/i]
                                
                *if (psycho > 2)
                    You glance at it. At the end of the day, it's just a thing. Not alive, not conscious. 
                    
                    There's no reason to care. You're being ridiculous.
                    
                    *goto splodenode
                    
                *else
                    You hesitate. It can't ask questions. You [i]know[/i] it isn't.
                    
                    But it can sense you, just like you sense it. The connection's always gone two ways.
                    
                    Is it just a weapon?
                    
                    *choice
                            #Stop. I feel bad.
                                *achieve petpetpet
                                *if psycho > 0
                                    *set psycho -1
                                
                                You shouldn't be getting attached to a gross ball of gristle that originated somewhere in your Juice-infested guts. It's like if a cat bonded with their own hairball. Worse, actually, because hairballs don't spend all of their time mentally broadcasting demands to be fed.

                                Probably. Not unless cats got very strange over the past five years.

                                @{(expressive > 55) "Not today, little guy," you mutter.|You stare impassively at the thing.} It stares @{(expressive > 55) at you|back at you} eyelessly. Is it even sentient enough to comprehend the emotions it feels through you?

                                You lean down and give it a quick pat. You choose to interpret the little wiggle as pleasure.
                                
                                Pressingly, changing your mind leaves you in need of an alternate strategy.
                                
                                *choice
                                    #The nodes can still work as a distraction.
                                        Right; even if using them as ammunition is a bridge too far, the nodes have other uses. You can even assuage any lingering guilt on your conscience with the knowledge that they'll be more than eager to have a target to—
                                        
                                        [i]bite. eat.[/i]
                                        
                                        Yeah. That.
                                        
                                        With a mental command, both the node at your side and its companion go scuttling into the fray, gnashing their teeth. If they could bay for blood, they would be.
                                        
                                        *goto nodeattackrocket

                                    #Divert energy to my tendrils; I'll block off her escape.
                                        *set juice -10
                                        *set rocketscore +1
                                        Redirecting your focus from node to tendrils, you will the Juice into them instead. They begin to lengthen, thicken, but the process is too slow; Rocket's not going to sit there and watch.
                                        
                                        You're practiced enough at wielding your powers to open that valve, altering the flow from a trickle to a rushing river. The tendrils quiver, then surge, doubling, [i]tripling[/i] in girth, thudding heavily onto the floorboards like black serpents. Rocket takes a step back, and you capitalise on her alarm, swinging your tendrils from around your back in a broad arc. They're so weighty that you have to spin around, moving them with the centrifugal force, and even then, it's taking a firm jolt of Juice to muster enough strength.
                                        
                                        The results, though, are worth the price of admission.
                                        
                                        With tendrils this big, Rocket has nowhere to go. She tries to thread the needle regardless, angling to slide beneath the lower of the pair. Too bad for her that you've still got control over them, despite the size. You bring the tendril down, sealing the escape, and rather than the nimble manoeuvre Rocket aimed for, she instead hurls herself straight into the tendril coming in the opposite direction. A satisfying [i]whump[/i] sends her flying, crashing against the wall beyond. For a moment, you think the follow through will be the coup de grace, slamming Rocket back into the wall, but the jolt of impact seems to galvanise her. She ducks, your upper tendril thudding where she just was, and though the lower tendril sweeps through, scything her at the knees, she simultaneously hurls herself forward. Combined, the result is a somersault directly onto her back, but critically, beyond your tendrils' snare. 
                                        
                                        Unfortunately, now said tendrils are rammed up against the wall and stopped dead, leaving you struggling to get them back into motion. Though, simultaneously, Rocket's too dazed to actually do anything with that. After struggling a moment with your tendrils, you reluctantly reverse the flow of Juice, reducing them back to a more manageable size. Maintaining that bulk wasn't going to be tenable anyway, especially since you were occupying too much space for Architect to get involved.
                                        
                                        Worked, though. Rocket isn't walking away from too many more of those.
                                        
                                        *goto rocketpt2

                            #Proceed. It's literally part of me. If anything, this is self-harm.
                                *set terminate +1
                                Discounting what it says about you that this is a point in favour, you feel what the nodes feel. There's no reason to get guilty over your own pain.
                                
                                *label splodenode
                                Brow furrowing, you concentrate harder, letting your consciousness permeate into the formable meat of the node's body. You're learning as you go—the kinds of things you could discover, with the luxury of time—and iterating on the process moment by moment. With a thrum in your fingertips, it's almost like the Juice is flowing from them and seeping into the node. Perhaps not even almost; [i]something[/i] is passing between you.
                                
                                The node quivers and vibrates, small bubbles beginning to pockmark its surface as its dendrites shiver, shedding filaments. Its shuddering grows more intense as you continue plucking at its chemistry like harp strings.
                                
                                You could do even more, but time is short. Rocket won't just stand there while you blatantly power up. With a tight breath, you break your focus on its body, pulling as far away from your connection as possible.
                                
                                Then, you hurl your payload at Rocket.
                                
                                [i]full. hurt. eat—[/i]
                                
                                She sees it coming—you were clearly up to something—and ducks, but you don't need a direct hit. The node impacts the wall behind her and [i]erupts[/i], detonating in a shower of meat chunks and ichor, force enough to knock Rocket flat. Even proverbially taking cover within your mind, the shock puts you on your knees, wracked with pain.
                                
                                Prying your eyes open, you see a groaning Rocket picking herself up, narrowly avoiding getting rammed by a cuboid out of the wall. Where the node made impact is a sizeable crater; the explosion blew apart everything shy of the brick.
                                
                                "God, why's there always some weirdo with fucking fucked powers?" Rocket complains, moving with a hitch in her step.
                                
                                You'll take the pounding headache if it's the cost of slowing her down. Just have to maintain pressure.
                                
                                *set rocketscore +1
                                *set juice -10
                                *set harmony +1

                                *if (harmony = 1)
                                   *achieve synergy
                                   
                                *if (mc_health = 1)
                                    *set mc_health 2
                                    *set nodedesc 3
                                    
                                *else
                                    *set nodedesc 2
                                    
                                *goto rocketpt2
                    
                            #Proceed. This is a good plan, and the node isn't alive.
                                It's not like the node would last out the day even if you let it be. Best case scenario, you'd be reabsorbing it by sundown.
                                
                                No different from the membrane and tendrils. It can't think or feel; you're just remote piloting a glob of your powers.
                                
                                *goto splodenode
                    
            *selectable_if ((speciality = 3) and (fighting_style = 2)) #Enclosed environment. Protective carapace. Lightbulb moment: I can be a walking shield for Architect. [Combo: Carapace + Adaptable]
                *set juice -10
                *set harmony +1

                *if (harmony = 1)
                    *achieve synergy
                    
                It's going one better than just attracting Rocket's attention. This way, it doesn't matter if she bites on the big obvious distraction; Architect's getting that opening one way or another.
                
                *label carapaceadaptablecombo
                *set rocketscore +1
                
                "Get behind me. Move when I do," you tell him. He gets into position without so much as a nod, all business. Announcing the plan tips your hand to Rocket immediately, but @{(expressive > 55) what's she going to do about it, shoot you?|that's the beauty of this; knowing what you're doing won't stop it from happening.}
                
                @{(expressive > 55) As it happens, yes. Multiple times. Rocket|Not that Rocket doesn't try. She} starts firing off shots, resorting to debris and pieces of ex-furniture once she finally runs out of golf balls. You keep a steady @{enhanced1 pace—though the Juice-jitters thrumming through you make it a challenge—as|pace as} you advance on her, paying close attention to when and where you step to ensure Architect is never exposed to the line of fire. Since you can't dodge without doing exactly that, you loop your tendrils in front of your shoulders to act as a protective guard cage while pumping extra energy into your carapace. You can feel the plating growing heavier and more rigid. Bad for speed, great for walking bulwarks.
                
                The tendrils serve to deflect a few of the hits, stinging impacts kicking up little sprays of ichor. Others you can only tank, trusting your carapace to hold up while scraps of wood and twisted pieces of metal score gouges into its surface. Something moving too fast to identify ricochets wildly off your shoulder, and you smack it from the air. Nothing gets through.
                
                You don't have to tell Architect when the moment arises; he acts all by himself. Suddenly, Rocket's flurry of debris is intercepted by a shining golden barrier, and then a cylinder slides soundlessly from the wall behind Rocket, slamming her squarely in the spine. She staggers, and you take the opportunity to close the remaining distance in a lumbering charge. She, barely, slips to the side, sent sprawling by the glancing blow you land to her shoulder. Another of Architect's projections moves to pin her to the ground, but she manages to block it with a point-blank blast from her power. Wriggling free, she stumbles to her feet, fists clenched.
                
                "Good," Architect murmurs.
                
                You nod, paring the bulk from your carapace and reintegrating it back into your body. You'll need your agility from here; can't afford to be that weighed down, nice as it is to be impervious to Rocket's power.
                
        *selectable_if (speciality = 1) #@{runningonfumes I may be exhausted, but the nodes aren't; they can keep Rocket busy.|Let the nodes run interference to give myself a better shot at Rocket.}
            @{runningonfumes The nodes can in fact get tired, and they can certainly be damaged. Presently, they're neither, and you're very much in need of something to pick up your slack.|You've brought them out, you may as well use them. As much as some moral support would be nice, they don't make very good cheerleaders.}

            @{runningonfumes Besides, it's pretty much their fault that you're so drained; least they can do is pull their weight.|About time they pull their weight. Damn freeloaders.}

            You push into your mental link, commanding the nodes forward. Impatient and eager for action, the pair begin scuttling at Rocket, gnashing their teeth. If they could bay for blood, they would be.

            *label nodeattackrocket
            *set rocketscore +1
            [i]blood! bite! hunt![/i]

            …okay in fairness you don't think it counts as baying when it's telepathic.

            Rocket blanches and goes for a golf ball, firing from the hip. You flinch, but the node's erratic movement pays dividends as the ball threads the needle between its dendrites, ricocheting harmlessly off the—shit! You jerk your head, the rebounding projectile carving through the air just past your ear. 

            "Fuck me! They're even worse up close! You can fuck right off!"

            With the nodes doing their thing, you @{runningonfumes hang back and take a breather, though you're still hunting for opportunities to get involved. It's a rare moment where the nodes are biting and you have the focus to spare on your mental link, nudging them along as best you can with their proto-minds fixated on food.|rush to join them, crashing bodily into Rocket from the flank as she attempts to kick one away. Bearing her to the ground, you aim a punch at her face, the nodes' gleeful chatter filling your mind.}
            
            @{runningonfumes [i]Hunt. Eat.[/i] A psychic stutter of sorts. [i]Pack. Surround.[/i] Two syllables. That's new.|[i]Eat! Bite! Hunt![/i]}
            
            @{runningonfumes As you direct them, Architect gets involved too, creating stubby projections around Rocket's feet. She stumbles over the first of these and nearly trips, which would have got her face nice and acquainted with the snapping teeth of the node beneath. You don't know if you're disappointed when she catches her balance. |Rocket parries the punch from her back, then catches you in the jaw with her elbow. A node promptly takes a chunk out of her calf, causing an unintelligible screech containing something resembling words, and the [i]crack[/i] of Rocket's power. Something strikes the node, and the pain whiplashes over your link, stunning you. Before you can shake it off, Rocket shakes you off, and you spill onto the floor.}
            
            @{runningonfumes You do know that you do not enjoy the feeling when she punts the other node in midair while it leaps to latch onto her thigh. You lurch, the feedback lashing over your mental link. The first node biting her again is a consolation before she finally extricates herself from both nodes and Architect's hazards, cursing up a storm.|A cube of gold pops up from the ground and trips Rocket as she tries to make a break for it. Thanks for the contribution, Architect. You and Rocket both pick yourselves up; a quick glance at the node reveals it's oozing viscous black fluid from its—alright it doesn't have a head. Upper side. Despite that, it doesn't seem too worse for wear.}
            
            You've taken a piece—or a bite—out of Rocket. What's next?
            
            *goto rocketpt2

                
        *if (rel_wyrd > 60)
            *if (checkedonwyrd > 2)
                *selectable_if (instinctive > 60) #@{(instinctive > 60) I think of Wyrd lying there hurt and I'm already charging at Rocket.|I'm upset about Wyrd, but they're okay. I need to hold my temper.}
                    *goto chargingatrocket
            *else
                #I think of Wyrd lying there hurt and I'm already charging at Rocket.
                    *label chargingatrocket
                    *set rocketscore +1
                    *set instinctive %+ 7
                    @{(instinctive > 60) Logically, Wyrd said they're okay.|}
                    
                    @{(instinctive > 60) Logic is not currently in the building.|}
                    
                    You thunder across the room, a shout on your lips. Rocket doesn't react fast enough to prevent you hitting her like a battering ram. You don't break stride, sweeping her up arms and tendrils to slam her bodily against the wall. Air crushes from her body and you pull back only to drive a shoulder into her again, twice more. Indignant fury courses through you, feeding power to every attack, almost smothering the @{(checkedonwyrd > 2) quiet voice murmuring that it's okay, that this isn't the same as the last time.|fear. If they aren't okay…} As Rocket folds in on herself, you pull her back, lift, and put her through the window.
                    
                    "$!{mask}!" Architect sounds alarmed, but you had the wherewithal to hold onto Rocket and proceed to drag her back inside with the crackle of more breaking glass. There's no way you're giving her a free escape route.
                    
                    You're not through with her yet.
                    
                    Lifting your wheezing foe, you line her back up with the wall.
                    
                    That's when she raises a hand with a gleam in her eye, and her power goes off with a [i]crack[/i].
                    
                    *if (speciality = 3)
                        Point blank. No chance to dodge. Something—dozens of somethings—hits you in the face, gouging deep into the armoured carapace. You flinch—who wouldn't?—and drop Rocket, stumbling backward while instinctively touching your face. You find only superficial scratches, but your nerves are rattled all the same, and Rocket takes the opening to scurry out from between you and the wall. She stoops as she moves, scooping up a shard of glass, and you realise that she must have managed to snatch a fistful on her way through the window. That's some serious situational awareness.
                        
                        Close call.
                        
                        *label charginglikethat
                        Charging at Rocket like that prevented Architect from doing much to support. Still, you spot a couple of new barriers, one blocking off the angle of retreat towards the door, the other covering the window. He's not just sitting on his hands.
                         
                    *else
                        *set pocketsand 2
                        
                        *if (injurydesc = 1)
                            *set injurydesc 9
                            
                        *if (mc_health = 1)
                            *set mc_health 2
                            
                        *else
                            *set mc_health +1
                            
                        Point blank. No chance to dodge. An explosion of pain as dozens of tiny claws slash across your facial membrane. You drop Rocket and reel backward. For a heartstopping instant, you can't see a thing, but then your vision returns, gritty and bloodied. Raising a hand to assess the damage, you find cut after cut raking the surface of the membrane. If you wore a regular mask, she'd have skinned your face to the bone.
                        
                        *if (mc_health =5)
                            *set rocketescaped true
                            Rocket has already taken the opening to scurry out from between you and the wall. You start after her, but then your abused body simply gives up on you. All strength flees your legs as you go crashing to the floor, the combined toll of your injuries pinning you helplessly down.
                             
                            All you can do is watch as Rocket blows through Architect's last-ditch barrier and darts from the room.
                            
                            *goto injuredendstate
                            
                        *else
                            Rocket has already taken the opening to scurry out from between you and the wall. She palms something, which takes a moment to identify with your blurry eyes. A shard of glass, probably picked up from the ground. Is that what she hit you with? Not that shard exactly, too many wounds, but she must have managed to snatch a fistful of broken glass on her way through the window. That's some serious situational awareness.

                            Rattled and hurting, you try to concentrate.

                            *goto charginglikethat
                        

*label rocketpt2
*page_break

Rocket raises both hands, each filled with scrap from the floor. You and Architect both cover up, only for her to spin away—a feint—and now she's gunning to get out again. Architect hastily throws a projection in her path, and Rocket blasts it with her power without even slowing. The golden barrier wavers, then holds firm. Your foe curses and immediately diverts course, never staying still for so much as an instant.

This operation is Rocket or bust. Maybe it's fitting that she's proving to be a pain in the ass to catch.

Architect attempts to quite literally put Rocket in a box by surrounding her with barriers, but she's too alert to the threat, moving before the second shape finishes forming, vaulting over it and even finding a moment to fire a snapshot at you, though you dodge handily.

You're beginning to understand how Fracture and Architect had a hard time even with both of them. Makes you think back to Hit; he had a pretty similar power to Rocket, but the gulf in combat ability is striking.

*choice
    #@{(rocketstall = 1) She's tiring. Contain until we get the opening we need.|She has to be wearing out by now. Keep her contained.}
        *set rocketstall +1
        Like the world's most dangerous—and possibly the most foul-mouthed—game of tag, you take @{(rocketstall = 2) once more to|to} the pursuit. You get hits in where you can, whether by tendril, strike, or projection, but for the most part it's a whole lot of corralling Rocket around the room, cutting off any motions towards egress, and doing your best not to get domed by any rogue objects Rocket sends hurtling your way.
        
        @{runningonfumes Exhausted as you are, this is not a good time. It's a good thing you've got Architect here, because you wouldn't be able to maintain the pressure alone. Maybe Rocket recognises that in your lumbering steps, because Architect|Though, honestly, you're not the primary target. Architect} is getting more than his fair share of Rocket's attentions. You're not completely sure how taxing his barriers are, but they're gradually getting slower to appear, their golden glow fading to something more sickly.
        
        @{runningonfumes Fatigue is a full house it seems;|Thankfully, the toll isn't one-sided;} Rocket is also beginning to struggle, each dodge more laboured than the last. She's stopped cussing you out, even. Too short of breath, perhaps?
        
        Right as you're about to catch her, Rocket suddenly whips around, launching a fist-sized paperweight at you. The shot thuds hard into your stomach, driving all the wind from your lungs. With you bent over wheezing, Rocket dances past and sprints for the door. 
        
        And yet again, a golden barrier thwarts her. She slams into it, shoulder first. The projection wavers, then @{(rocketstall = 2) collapses.|holds.}
        
        *if (rocketstall = 2)
            *label teddiecountersrocket
            *set indoorfight true
            Architect staggers, Rocket screams in triumph.
            
            "Later, losers!" she hollers over her shoulder, dashing through the doorway.
            
            Half a second later, she comes flying straight back in, crashing flat onto her back. Fracture steps inside, flexing his fingers. He looks like hell, the not-quite-plating on his arms and chest spiderwebbed with cracks.
            
            *if (kniferailgun = 2)
                You have, let's say, a supporting role in the ensuing takedown. You're a little busy dealing with the foreign object that was so rudely introduced to your body.
                
                While Architect rams Rocket in the head with a projection from the wall and Fracture tackles her to the ground like a bulldozer, you're clenching your teeth and removing the knife with a pained growl. You feel a spurt of blood and ichor, then the Juice does its job and closes the wound. @{(expressive > 60) Ish;|More or less;} wetness still oozes between your fingers as you press a hand to the hole. Yanking the knife out would be a death sentence for a normal person. For you, it's practically procedure.
                
                *label architectcheckson
                "$!{mask}, are you alright?" Architect.
                *choice
                    #"Peachy."
                        "I'm sure. Come on." He beckons, and leaves.
                        
                    #Let out a plaintive whine.
                        "$!{mc_he}@{mc_singular 's|'re} fine," grunts Fracture.
                        
                        "Indeed. Let's get moving." Architect heads out.
                        
                        You have never done anything wrong in your life and this is deeply unfair to you, personally. Why don't those two take a knife to the gut, huh?
                        
                        Sullenly, you scoop up Rocket and follow after them.
                        *page_break
                        *goto withinentryway_success
                    #"I'll manage."
                        "Very well. Come on." He turns and leaves.
                        
                    #Grunt.
                        "I will take that as a yes. Come on." He beckons, and leaves.
                        
                You're left with the responsibility of carrying Rocket, which you won't lie, feels rather unfair.
                *page_break Stumble out after them.
                *goto withinentryway_success
                
            *else
                With Rocket on the floor, you and Architect pounce as one. She's scrambling to her feet as you club her in the back with @{(speciality =2) all four|both} tendrils, and Architect meets her stagger with a projection from the wall, hitting her in the head. Fracture puts the punctuation point on the combination with a bulldozer of a tackle, bringing Rocket to the ground, his full weight crashing down upon her.

                You'd almost feel bad for her @{(instinctive > 45) until you remember how much shit she's been talking.|until you remind yourself how much trouble she's caused you all.} 

                "Finally," Architect groans. "Come on, you two." He heads through the door.

                "You're welcome," Fracture mutters under his breath before following. You scoop up Rocket, then join them.

                *page_break
                *goto withinentryway_success
            
        *else
            "Fuck! You are such a little bitch!" She turns back, glaring death at Architect.
            
            You straighten up, catching your breath. Architect glances at you and inclines his head, a fraction of an inch. Is he trying to tell you this is working?
            
            
    #I have to slow her down, even if that means inflicting severe injures. 
        *set hurtingrocket 2
        *set brutal +1
        *set rocketscore +1
        Right now, the biggest problem is Rocket's mobility. So long as she's diving around like a video game character, pinning her down will be an issue.
        
        You'd like to see her try those moves on a broken leg.
        
        Moving onto the attack, you mask your intentions, throwing punches and swiping tendrils in the regular way. As anticipated, Rocket defends herself ably, even forcing you into a strenuous evasive action of your own as she launches a fist-sized paperweight at your chest. Everything's a damn weapon with her.
        
        With that shot fired, though, you have a window to get closer. Stepping into Rocket's sphere, you go for a short elbow to the head, glancing off as she twists away. She pays you back by way of a jab to the stomach, hard enough to feel it, not enough to hurt. Ignoring the blow, you keep her occupied with a little dirty boxing, scoring a few hits with uppercuts and body shots. You're finding enough success to almost be tempted to stick to the tactic, but then of course Rocket does what she always does and tries to disengage, shoving you heartily in the shoulders and making to scurry clear.
        
        You snake a tendril, kept carefully low, around her leg, stopping her in her tracks. She attempts to tug herself free, and you coil @{(speciality = 2) another|the other} tendril to join the first, securing your grasp.
        
        Squeeze, and twist. Something pops.
        
        "Fuck! You motherfucker!" Both of Rocket's hands go to your tendrils, and there's dual cracks as she uses her power at point blank range. Instinctively, you recoil, tendrils spurting from fresh wounds. You're not sure what she railgunned into your tendrils, but it hurts like hell.
        
        Rocket hops away, struggling to put weight on her leg. You have enough wherewithal to try and catch her as she retreats, but your reaching tendril is half a second too slow.
        
        Dammit. Nearly ended it right there. With a moment to assess, the injuries to the tendrils are mostly just painful; they move about with no issue. Nothing that's going to hamper you.
        
        "Asshole!" Rocket spits, pale-faced.
        
        If Architect has an opinion on your methods, he keeps it to himself.
        
    #I'm sick of her running around. Tear the place apart.
        *if breakshit = 1
            *set breakshit 3
            
        *else
            *set breakshit 4
            
        *set rocketscore +1
        
        Her strategy consists of dodging, taking potshots, and attempting to flee. Most of that won't work if you alter the arena in your favour. @{(breakshit = 4) Helped you out with Spring Breaker, after all.|}
        
        With no small satisfaction, @{(breakshit = 4) you once again|you} plunge your tendrils into the floorboards, puncturing them easily. It's barely a strain to pry up the @{runningonfumes planks; fatigue notwithstanding, it's only wood,|wood,} and you swiftly wreak destruction upon the hapless flooring.
        
        "Stop destroying my fucking house! Fuck!" Rocket yells, face flush with anger, which you take as encouragement to continue, smashing up more of the floor. Architect's head swivels to you, but without the benefit of his facial expressions, you have no idea what he thinks of the strategy. He continues throwing up new projections, hemming Rocket in and preventing her from bailing, though just as before, she's ducking, diving, and rolling to keep from getting trapped.
        
        Another slam of your tendrils into the ground strikes metal, a much more challenging prospect for the demolition effort. Rather than attempting to literally bring down the entire house, you work around the frame, punching past to put a hole in what must be the ground floor's ceiling. The next swipe is right by Rocket, and as she hops aside, she nearly goes sprawling over another part of busted floor, just as intended. 
        
        @{(fighting_style = 2) The strategic part of your brain rings an alarm bell at the amount of debris and therefore ammunition you're generating, so you spare half a second and a tendril to sweep the scrap to the opposite side of the room.|} Breaking much more is going to be diminishing returns—worst case scenario of her escaping through the floor springs to mind—and you divert, going on the chase.  
        
        With her footing full of potholes, Rocket's tripping and stumbling, and with a lunge you land a thudding blow. She goes over backwards, foot snagging in the broken boards and tearing a jagged rent up the back of her calf.
        
        "Motherfuck!" she yelps. You lope forward, going in for the kill, but collide with a projection popping up ahead of you. A second later, a fist-sized paperweight slams into the barrier, inches from your face.
        
        You didn't spot her picking that up. Focusing on destruction has its downsides.
        
        *if (fighting_style != 2)
            *if (injurydesc = 1)
                *set injurydesc 9
                
            *set shrapnel 2
            *set mc_health +1
            
            You don't spot the sudden spray of shattered wood either, not until it shreds through your side like a swarm of angry hornets. @{(mc_health > 4) Colour drains from the world as you drop to one knee, clutching the wound. You try to fight through it, to rise, but your body isn't listening to your commands. Strength deserts your limbs, and you crash to the floor, helpless to do anything but watch as Rocket blows through one final, last-ditch barrier and escapes the room.|You let out a strangled half-shout, half-scream, clutching the wound. For a moment, you sway, then you force yourself to stabilise. You're alright. You can handle this. It's just pain.}
            
            *if ((mc_health > 4) and (rocketscore =2))
                *goto injuredsuccess
                
            *elseif ((mc_health > 4) and (rocketscore < 2))
                *set collapsewounds_scum true
                *set rocketescaped true
                *goto injuredendstate
                
            
            *else
                Of course wrecking the place would give her more ammunition. More even an exchange than you'd like.
                *goto rocketpt3
        
    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 3) and (fighting_style = 1)) #Carapace for defence, martial arts for offence. Let's do it. [Combo: Carapace + Hand-to-hand]
            *set juice -10
            
            *set harmony +1
            
            *if harmony = 1
                *achieve synergy
                
            *set rocketscore +1
            
            With the right technique, your fists can be both sword and shield, and you'll need both to take her on.
            
            You concentrate on your forearms, projecting your mind into the carapace and tapping into the Juice to reinforce, taking care not to add too much bulk, lest you weigh yourself down. Speed's too important to sacrifice.
            
            Comfortable that your swings won't be impeded, you advance with purpose. Rocket's immediately alert to you, cocking an arm and blasting a fist-sized paperweight. You don't stop moving, bringing your arms together to block. The impact is hard, vibrating through your shell, but the armour holds, you drop the guard, and you just keep coming.
            
            Feigning a kick, you instead snap it back and throw a powerful cross. Rocket blocks poorly, stumbling with the force, and you keep going, keep attacking. A lesser opponent would fold under the barrage of punches, kicks, and especially elbows given a little something extra by the carapace, but again, Rocket's experience shines through. She gives ground with purpose, covering up from the very worst of your attacks and at least turning away from what she can't cancel out. You land a hard roundhouse to the meat of her thigh, then step in with an overhand fit to crack a jaw, glancing it off the side of her head. She still goes down, but as you move for the coup de grace, Rocket has scrounged more ammunition from the floor. Her power cracks and you shield yourself in the nick of time.
            
            There's a thunk. Twisting your forearm for a better look, you see a letter opener sticking from the carapace, still shuddering. The blade is warped from the impact. Blocking that unarmoured would have not gone well for you.
            
            It's just enough of a delay to the advance that Rocket manages to climb up again. You nail a front kick, but Rocket moves with it, opening up more distance with yet another roll. Is that an effective technique? Not to win a fight, but it's sure stopping you from putting an end to this.
            
    *selectable_if ((fighting_style = 3) or (knowledge > 40)) #Push Architect to [i]do more[/i] with his powers. It feels like he's holding back.
        *set archinfo +1
        *set archpowers +1
        *set rocketscore +1
        
        You don't know when exactly the thought started itching at the back of your mind, but it's incessant. @{(fighting_style = 3) You're inexperienced, using powers you had to learn from the ground up, and yet you've pushed the boundaries, developed a deep understanding of your capabilities through experimentation and effort.|While your knowledge of powers is grounded more in theory than in practice, you still know your theory; that parahuman interest back in the day wasn't for nothing.}
        
        @{(fighting_style = 3) If you can pull that off, despite the disadvantages, it strains credulity that someone like Architect wouldn't have done it too. He's|Architect is} meticulous and thorough, the exact kind of person you'd expect to map out their abilities to the fullest extent. 
        
        Rationally, you know that there are narrow parahuman abilities. You know that creating energy barriers—even with his limitation of having to project from a surface—is a fairly versatile power.
        
        It just… nags at you. @{(fighting_style = 3) Intuition for powers is a muscle, it seems, and you've trained yours enough that|The powerset is almost [i]too[/i] neat and tidy, with parameters [i]too[/i] clearly defined. Most powers have at least a little bit of mess; look at Rampage, with her altered appearance, or Arcade, with his charge times. Ultimately,} you can't quite believe what you've seen is Architect's be all and end all. @{fastflurry Even that quick flurry he pulled off a second ago was the same thing he always does, only faster.|}
        
        "Architect, if you've got any other tricks up your sleeve, now's the time!"
        
        He startles, head whipping towards you. "I am doing what I can!"
        
        @{(instinctive > 55) "Do! More!"|"I sure hope so!"}
        
        Hesitation, then…
        
        Two pillars of energy erupt from underneath Rocket, blasting apart the wooden floor and hurling her from her feet. Another projection instantly emerges, a short sharp punch from below that turns Rocket over.
        
        Sleight of hand. Misdirection. The projections didn't break the floorboards; the floorboards burst the moment [i]before[/i] the projections. You're not sure the shimmering golden shapes even made contact.
        
        It rolls around your mind as you go after Rocket and she barely holds you off—when did she pick up that paperweight—to stagger clear, pursued now by Architect's regular projections. What did he just do? How much of his power did you just see? If he's capable of manipulating terrain to the point of blowing holes in it, then his projections are a ghost of his real abilities.
        
        But that can wait. Rocket is stubbornly refusing to roll over, and if you're obviously distracted, you might tip off Architect that you're onto him.
        
    #Plant myself in the doorway: if the exit is cut off, she has no choice but to stand and fight.
        "Architect, get the window." You take position at the door, body and tendrils serving as physical barrier. Architect follows your lead, sealing the window with a floor to ceiling barrier.
        
        In between both exits, Rocket stills. She looks at you, then Architect, then the window, and then simply stays where she is. Stand off.
        
        "I'm not gonna just run at you, you know," she says, almost conversationally. She crouches, methodically collecting the shattered pieces of an ornament from the floor. She keeps her head up, ensuring you and Architect are still in her sights. "Wanna have another go at me, barrier boy?" She directs that at Architect, a sly grin spreading over her face. He says nothing, and she laughs. "Yeah, what I thought. You know you can't take me. So here's the thing…" Her arm snaps up, and you cover up just in time to avoid getting ceramic cannoned into your face. "If tentacles is over there, and you can't tangle with me up close, then you're just target practice." Her smile is full of teeth as she raises a hand, more ammunition clenched between her fingers like blades. "But if you wanna stand still and let me load up, be my guest."
        
        You exchange a glance with Architect, and you don't need a single facial feature to know what's going through his head.
        
        Well, shit.
        
    #Try to convince her to give it up. Surely she sees she can't win.
        It's already clear that you and Architect together can keep Rocket away from the exits, and she's been outnumbered from the jump. Cornered, it's only a matter of time before the two of you wear her down.
        
        So, can't you just skip to the end already? This is pointless.
        
        In a moment of stillness, you speak.
        
        *if (knowledge > 30)
            *set attemptconvince 3
            "You know this is over, right?" You take a measured step towards her. "Your whole team is down and out. You didn't last this long by taking hopeless fights."
            
            "Didn't last this long by giving up when things looked bad, either," Rocket counters, tipping back her chin defiantly.
            
            "You've been trying to bail since before I even got here. That's giving up."
            
            Rocket's jaw works, face set in a scowl.
            
            "You can't escape, and you can't take the two of us out alone. Spare yourself some pain and stop fighting."
            
            "God, you sound like a fucking hero," Rocket groans.
            
            "Doesn't mean I'm wrong."
            
            "Fuck off. Ain't over til the fat lady sings. Bring it on."
            
        *else
            *set attemptconvince 2
            "You know you've lost, right?" You gesture at the room. "There's nowhere to go; all that's going to happen is this place getting more torn up, and you probably get hurt worse."
            
            Rocket scoffs. "Taking a page from the hero playbook, huh? Never worked for them, not gonna work for your horror movie reject looking ass."
            
            "The heroes have rules. We don't."
            
            *if rangerhurt = 3
                "Oh, big whoop, you maimed the boy scout. Nobody's impressed. Gonna kick a puppy next?"
                
                "Depends. Are you the puppy?"
                
                Rocket laughs, long and hard. "Trying [i]so[/i] hard, ain'tcha? Come on then, show me what you've got, if you're so scary."
                
            *else
                She @{(brutal > 3) shrugs. "You might have a rep, $!{mask}, but I don't give a fuck. Been worse than you before, will be worse than you after."|laughs. "Please. Not even the scariest one on your team, tentacles."} She fakes a yawn. "Now shut the fuck up and fight. You're putting me to sleep."
            
        So much for handling this the easy way. @{(attemptconvince = 3) Still, there's a crack in the bravado; you got to her.|}
            
    #Quiz her about S.C.U.M.'s involvement with the Zone: intel or distraction, both work.
        Architect was characteristically vague on the details ahead of this mission, only telling you that Rocket almost definitely knows more than most about the incident. Considering what you found there, and Insider letting slip about the forcefield being his, you want to know more than ever what the heck was doing on with all that.
        
        "You know, this would go a lot easier for you if you just told us why you guys are so interested in the Zone," you say.
        
        Architect's head snaps around. "What are you doing?" His voice is low and taut.
        
        You ignore him, staring down Rocket. Initially, her eyebrows rose in response. Now, she's wearing a speculative, thoughtful look. "So that's what this is about? Huh."
        
        "Back then, you were involved, and you've kept an eye on things since," you continue.
        
        Rocket regards you for a moment, then slowly smirks. "You're the one who triggered Sider's little surprise, aren't you? New in town and digging up old history. Makes a gal wonder."
        
        "${mask}, shut up," growls Architect.
        
        *choice
            #Push it.
                *set rocketzonetalk 3
                *set rel_architect %- 5
                *set doubt_architect +5
                Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Drop this now, and you'd have spilled Altruist secrets for no reason.
                
                "If it's old history, then why don't you leave it in the past?"
                
                Rocket laughs, something bitter in it. "None of your fucking business. It'd blow your tiny little brain if you knew what went down back then."
                
                A projection thrusts down from the ceiling, clipping Rocket on the shoulder as she spins away. You exchange faceless glances with Architect, and from body language alone, you can tell your glare is mutual.
                
                You didn't stop the conversation, so he stopped it for you.
                
            #Back off.
                *set rocketzonetalk 2
                You hesitate, then let your next sentence die. Architect is agitated and you don't want to antagonise him.
                
                Leaves you in the exact same position as before though. Maybe slightly worse, since you spilled Altruist secrets for no gain.
                
                Rocket's still smirking.
    

*label rocketpt3
Someone's going to blink first. The only question is which side.

*set indoorfight true
*choice
    #Try some trickery: fake a miscue with Architect, then strike.
        @{(rocketzonetalk = 3) Shouldn't be too hard. You're already ticked off with each other.|You haven't attempted this sort of strategy with Architect before; the difficult part may be not misfiring for real.}
        
        First things first, you'll have to commit. You lunge at Rocket, too reckless and too aggressive. Rocket dips a shoulder and you sail past. You bunch your tendrils, twist, and go at her again, 'accidentally' clipping one of Architect's barriers to send yourself off balance.
        
        He lets out a small noise of surprise. You whirl around and swipe, both missing Rocket and thumping another of the projections, sending it shuddering.
        
        *gosub rocket_talks_shit
        
        *if (early_can_mention = 3)
            "$!{mask}? Is that true?"
            
            Ah. You let the corpse out of the bag.
            
            Guarded, you nod. No point lying about it.
            
            Architect sighs. "We'll discuss it later. Grab her and let's go."
            
            *page_break Oblige, and follow.
            *goto withinentryway_success
        
        *elseif (lostandretain =3)
            *set mc_health +1
            *set kniferailgun 2
            
            *if rocketscore = 2
                *if mc_health < 5
                    *label messyvictory
                    Rocket's rushing away. Architect throws up a last ditch barrier, and she blasts it point blank. It wavers, then collapses.
                
                    *goto teddiecountersrocket
                
                *else
                    *label moremessyvictory
                    As you collapse to the ground, Rocket rushes out, evading a last ditch barrier.
                    
                    *goto injuredsuccess
                
            *else
                *label messyloss
                You drop to a knee, trying to suck wind past the blade impaling you. Rocket, meanwhile, beelines for the door, blasting through one final barrier to make good her escape.
                
                Architect curses emphatically, then again. After the most cursory of glances to confirm you're not bleeding out, he gestures. "Come on. No time to waste."
                
                All heart, isn't he? Teeth gritted, you trudge out after him.
                
                *page_break
                *goto withinentryway
            
        *elseif (lostandretain = 2)
            *if (subterfuge > 30) 
                *goto good_sub_rocket_indoor

            *else
                *goto bad_sub_rocket_indoor


        *elseif (subterfuge > 36)
            *label good_sub_rocket_indoor
            *set rocketscore +1
            Shaking off the distraction, you rush in again, and finally Rocket swallows the hook, sidestepping and shoving you in the back. Would you look at that: she's sent you straight at Architect. More under control than you're letting on, you feign barrelling into him, but cushion the impact all the way with your tendrils, effectively lowering him onto the ground. He taps your side in what you assume is understanding.

            You hear Rocket break into a run, and allow yourself a tight smile.

            *if rocketscore =1
                *set rocketescaped true
                Which scrubs itself from your face when your subsequent tendril-boosted pursuit only catches up to Rocket so far as seeing her vanish out of a hole in the wall.

                The trick was good, but you hadn't laid enough groundwork.

                You don't need Architect's face to know the expression he's giving you as you sheepishly return to him.

                "Come on," he says, stalking out.

                *page_break Follow.
                *goto withinentryway

            *else
                *page_break Sucker.
                *set possum +1
                *if (possum = 2)
                    *achieve playingpossum

                Springing back up, you latch a tendril onto a ceiling beam, swing forward, and crash into Rocket from behind, surfing her onto the landing. Scooping her up, you pivot, fling her back into the room, and are treated with the sight of Architect intercepting her in midair with a projection. She slams into it hard, then drops to the ground.

                Bounding after her, you put the punctuation on it with a double footed stomp, sending her limp.

                After a couple of rough nudges to ensure Rocket isn't turning your own trick back on you, you glance up.

                "Very nicely played," says Architect, a note of amusement in his voice. "Let's move."

                Nodding, you pick Rocket up and follow him out.
                *page_break
                *goto withinentryway_success


        *else
            *label bad_sub_rocket_indoor
            *set mc_health +1
            *set kniferailgun 2
            Shaking off the distraction, you rush in again, and finally Rocket swallows the hook, sidestepping and shoving you in the back. Would you look at that: she's sent you straight at Architect. You intend to feign barrelling into him, but what you'd intended to be a subtle cushioning from your tendrils turns into outright stopping the collision. The two of you go down, but it's stilted and awkward.

            You're committed, though. No choice but to stay down and hope Rocket wasn't watching close enough.

            "Well that's a bit fucking embarrassing. If you're gonna do circus shit, maybe practice more first."

            Dammit.

            Springing back up—no other option—you charge. Rocket's hand rises, and you see the knife in her hand the instant before it's propelled.

            Directly into your abdomen.

            She… had another…?

            *if rocketscore = 2
                *if mc_health < 5
                    *goto messyvictory

                *else
                    *goto moremessyvictory

            *else
                *goto messyloss
                
    
    #@{(rocketscore = 0) She must be at her limit. Just concentrate on wearing her down.|I've inflicted enough damage to just wear her down the rest of the way.}
        *set instinctive %- 10
        Rocket is like-human in the physical department, with powers that do nothing for her strength, speed, or stamina. Even someone in peak condition would be struggling to keep this up, and you can tell fatigue's taking a toll.
        
        Overextending is going to get you punched in the mouth, or more likely, railgunned. Keep it tight, trust in your earlier efforts, and finish her off.
        
        Your advance is contained and careful, your jabs and leg kicks probing rather than aggressive. Your tendrils are kept in reserve, ready to react to anything untoward.
        
        *if (rocketscore < 2)
            *set rocketescaped true
            Solid plan, so long as you've judged Rocket accurately.
            
            You're putting it mildly, rather surprised when she slips your punch, steps within your reach, a hammers a knee into your solar plexus. You try to bring in your tendrils, but off guard and unbalanced, all you can do is thump Rocket ineffectually in the back as she gets hold of your arm, swings you around, and rams you headfirst into one of Architect's barriers. 
            
            It appears you were mistaken in your assessment. @{(instinctive > 60) See, this is what patience gets you!|}
            
            Disoriented on the floor, you can only watch as Rocket flees the room, blasting down one final projection along the way.
            
            Architect curses, then again, more emphatic. "Get up. We need to move."
            
            After a couple of seconds to get your bearings, you drag yourself up and follow him out.
            
            *goto withinentryway
  
        *else
            Frustration is visible on Rocket's face as she attempts and fails to get past either you or your defences. She can't get within arm's reach without you popping her in the jaw, and you've got just enough space to parry anything she scrounges to shoot at you. Any motion towards window or door is matched by your own, and she's having to contend with Architect throwing up fresh projections at the same time.
            
            Eventually, she just goes for broke, dipping a shoulder, then sprinting in the other direction @{(hurtingrocket = 2) as best she can with a messed up leg.|as fast as she can.} You sidestep, intercept, and knock her flat with a dual tendril chop. She drops, and for once, there's no roll, no slick trick; she hits the deck, and hits it hard.
                
            *goto diveontop
            
    #She keeps going for the window. Facilitate this. Roughly.
        *set rocketscore +1
        Hey, if that's what she wants, who are you to deny her?
        
        You continue pressuring Rocket, backing her up with jabs, leg kicks, and the occasional swipe of a tendril. Her eyes dart to the window, and you know the moment has arrived.
        
        She dips a shoulder, then bolts in the other direction. You tendril-boost after her, but rather than trying to drag her back, grapple her around the arms.
        
        Then you step, pivot—"OH SHIT!"—and send her crashing through the window in a shower of glass.
        
        "$!{mask}, we are trying to [i]capture[/i] her!" Architect punctures your satisfaction. Ah.
        
        *if (rocketscore < 2)
            *set rel_architect %- 10
            *set rocketescaped true
            You peer out through the Rocket-shaped hole in the window. Below, you spot the alarming sight of her already having scraped herself off the ground. She's around the corner and out of view before you can even think to follow.
            
            Architect is regarding you as you push back from the windowsill. Several silent seconds pass.
            
            "Idiot," he says, voice flat.
            
            You consider a number of responses, abandon all of them, and sheepishly follow him out of the door.
            *goto withinentryway
            
        *else
            *set rel_architect %- 5
            You peer out through the Rocket-shaped hole in the window. In the alleyway below, she sprawls… then stirs. Not dead. Not going anywhere fast either.
            
            Pushing back from the windowsill, you look to Architect. "I'll uh, I'll just go and grab her," you say sheepishly.
            
            "Meet me downstairs," he says, voice flat.
            *page_break
            *set indoorfight false
            One retrieval later, you're reentering the house from the front, an insensate Rocket in your arms.
            
            *goto withinentryway_success
            
            
    #Abandon all defence, gambling on bringing Rocket down before she can take me out.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        It's time. All or nothing.
        
        Unleashing a war cry, you charge at full pelt, propelling yourself as fast as your feet and tendrils can carry you.
        
        Attack, attack, attack. You fall upon Rocket, sacrificing any possibility of protecting yourself in a reckless all out assault.
        
        *if rocketscore = 0
            *set mc_health 5
            *set kniferailgun 2
            *set collapsewounds_scum true
            *set rocketescaped true
            The thing about gambling is that there's always risk to come with the reward. This was a desperate throw of the dice, and those dice come up snake eyes.
            
            You get a few hits in, but then Rocket reaches into her jacket as you lash wildly at her. Completely committed to offence, there's zero chance of you preventing her from blasting a knife into your abdomen.
            
            *label anotherknife
            She had… another?
            
            *goto injuredendstate
            
        *elseif rocketscore = 2
            *comment you are being unnecessarily reckless
            *set mc_health +1
            *set kniferailgun 2
            Maybe too reckless. You've had the upper hand on Rocket, @{(instinctive < 40) and an unusual bout of|and} impatience has got the better of you. 
            
            Which is to say, your raw aggression certainly knocks Rocket six ways from Sunday, but if you weren't so hell bent on beating the tar out of her, you probably would have been able to do something about the knife she pulls from her jacket and point blank blasts into your abdomen. 
            
            *label doubleko
            That's what they call in the business a double KO. The only consolation, as you lie on the floor clutching your stomach, is that one last punch to the face has left Rocket just a little worse off than you. 
            
            *if mc_health = 5
                Oh, hey, Fracture's here.
                *goto injuredendstate
            
            *else
                Fracture thuds into the room, though you're a little preoccupied to say hello. No, you're busy clenching your teeth, grabbing the knife hilt, and pulling it free of your guts. You feel a spurt of blood and ichor, then the Juice does its job and closes the wound. @{(expressive > 60) Ish;|More or less;} wetness still oozes between your fingers as you press a hand to the hole. Yanking the knife out would be a death sentence for a normal person. For you, it's practically procedure.
                
                *goto architectcheckson
                
                
        *elseif ((rocketscore = 1) and (rocketstall = 1))
            *set mc_health +1
            *set kniferailgun 2
            The good news is that Rocket can't hold up to this kind of raw aggression. The bad is that somewhere in the avalanche of blows you're laying upon her head, she pulls a knife from her jacket and blasts it point blank into your abdomen.
            
            *goto doubleko
            
        *else
            *set mc_health +2
            *set kniferailgun 2
            *if mc_health > 5
                *set mc_health 5
                *goto gamblefail
                
            *elseif mc_health = 5
                *label gamblefail
                And, well, if you were a little less injured to start out, then maybe you could have outlasted her, taken the shard of wood she launches into your arm and kept on coming.
                
                But you're already hurting, and the hit interrupts the avalanche of blows you're laying upon Rocket's head just long enough for her to pull a knife from her jacket and blast it point blank into your abdomen.
                
                *goto anotherknife
                
            *else
                And, well, it's ugly. No strategy to this, just hitting her over and over again and taking whatever she dishes out in return—a shard of wood stabbing your arm, twisted metal gouging your side—in a race to the bottom. As you attempt to bury her under your avalanche of blows, Rocket pulls a knife from her jacket, blasting it point blank into your abdomen.
                
                *goto doubleko
            
            
    *if (observation > 35)
        *if (rocketstall = 1)
            #Fracture should be here any moment. Just have to delay Rocket a little longer.
                *label delayingtactics
                You're convinced you heard him earlier, and @{(rocketstall = 1) you've already bought some time.|he's pretty resilient. He can't be too far off.} Three versus one should be too much even for Rocket.
                
                *label delayphasetwo
                Speaking of, she's definitely tiring. @{runningonfumes Might even be reaching your level of exhausted.|Finally.} Her chest is heaving and as you play keepaway from the exits, her @{(instinctive > 45) careening-around-barely-looking-under-control-but-somehow-effective|eclectic} style of evasive action has morphed into staggering and stumbling around, inches from disaster at any given moment. @{(hurtingrocket = 2) The busted leg probably has something to do with that.|}
                
                With Rocket so clearly at her limits, you @{runningonfumes summon up whatever you have left for|put your all into} a burst of speed, launching forward with your tendrils and smashing her in the face with an outstretched forearm. She drops, and for once, there's no roll, no slick trick; she hits the deck, and hits it hard.
                
                *label diveontop
                You follow up, all but diving atop of her. Rocket reaches inside her jacket, and steel flashes in her hand.
                
                *if (rocketscore = 2)
                    She's quick, you're faster. You catch her wrist and slam it into the floor until she drops the knife, then unload a huge left that bounces her head off the ground, turning her out like a light.
                    
                    "Good work, $!{mask}," says Architect. "Grab her, and let's move."
                    
                    Breathing heavily, you clamber off Rocket and scoop her into your arms, then follow him out.
                    
                    *goto withinentryway_success
                
                *elseif (rocketstall = 1)
                    Instinctively, you throw yourself off of her. The knife blasts up to slam into the ceiling, and Rocket, of course, makes another break for it. Architect bars her path with a projection, but Rocket blasts it with one last handful of shrapnel, and it collapses.
                    
                    *goto teddiecountersrocket
                    
                *else
                    *set mc_health +1
                    *set kniferailgun 2
                    Too close. No time. The knife blasts into your abdomen.
                    
                    All the air leaves your body as you collapse to the side, clutching the hilt of the weapon buried in your stomach.
                    
                    Scrambling up, Rocket beelines for the door. Architect bars her path with a projection, but Rocket blasts it with one last handful of shrapnel, and it collapses.
                    
                    *if (mc_health > 4)
                        "Sayonara!" Rocket hoots, bolting from the room.
                        
                        *goto injuredsuccess
                    
                    *else
                        *goto teddiecountersrocket
                    

                
        *elseif (rocketscore > 0)
            #I haven't done much to buy time for Fracture to get here, but delaying tactics might work.
                *goto delayingtactics
        *else
            #The ship might have sailed on Fracture getting here. I guess I'll try to delay Rocket.
                *label bad_delay_strat
                @{(observation > 35) This isn't a good position to be in. You haven't managed to drag this out, nor put particular pressure on Rocket.|The fight hasn't been going as planned.} At this stage, assistance may be required, rather than just helpful.
                
                And, well. The next minute or so proves you correct. @{runningonfumes You're exhausted, and Architect is scarcely doing any better.|You're running out of steam and so is Architect.} Rocket, meanwhile…
                
                She's not fresh, which only makes the struggle to lay a hand on her more galling. You can tell she's tiring out, but she doesn't have to be fast, only the least slow. It gets harder and harder to lay a tendril on her, you're forced to defend from projectiles more and more often, and she inches closer and closer to the window.
                
                Architect's barriers are increasingly sluggish to appear, their golden glow growing pale and sickly. As Rocket darts for the window, he throws up a last ditch blockade, but a blast of Rocket's power shatters it to pieces. A moment later, she's vaulting over the sill and outside.
                
                You drag yourself over there, vaguely hoping she'll have rolled her ankle or something, but no such luck. She's already hustling along the alleyway below, and swiftly exits view. You push back, shaking your head.
                
                Architect curses emphatically. Twice. "Come with me." He heads out of the door, and you follow.
                
                *goto withinentryway
                
           
    *else
        #Help can't be too far away, can it? Play for time.
            Ghoul's gone and Wyrd's hurt, but Fracture must be pulling himself together by now. Though if you're wrong about that, this may not end well.

            *if (rocketstall = 1) or (rocketscore > 0)
                *goto delayphasetwo
            
            *else
                *goto bad_delay_strat
            
    *if (runningonfumes = false)
        #Burn through a bunch of @{fighting_style Juice to bolster my reflexes and strength, battling head on.|Juice, charging myself up to exploit any and all openings.|Juice for a spectacular display of power mastery.|DUMMY}
            *if rocketscore = 2
                *set juice -15
                
            *elseif rocketscore = 1
                *set juice -20
                *set dependence +1
                
            *else
                *set juice -25
                *set dependence +2
            
            *gosub bigjuicerocket
            
            "Impressive, $!{mask}," Architect says in the abrupt silence. "We should move."
            
            Nodding wearily, you clamber to your feet.
            
            *page_break
            *goto withinentryway_success

*label injuredsuccess
*set collapsewounds_scum true
Only to come flying back through the doorway, landing hard. Fracture strides into view. He looks like hell, the not-quite-plating on his arms and chest spiderwebbed with cracks.
                
Not that you're in a position to judge.

*goto injuredendstate

*label injuredendstate
*page_break
The next few minutes are hazy and indistinct. @{rocketescaped Someone helps you to your feet, and it's a few seconds before you realise it's Fracture.|Fracture helps you to your feet while Architect grabs hold of Rocket.} You've no choice but to lean on him as he helps you back to the entryway. Wyrd's there, leaning on a wall with a hand pressed tightly to their chest. No longer have a knife sticking out of them at least.

Architect says something about @{rocketescaped searching the house for information.|splitting up for now.} You're in no condition to argue or ask questions. Fracture's speaking, and it takes a couple of attempts to focus past the pain on what he's saying.

"$!{mask}. Do you. Know somewhere. Close by. To go?"

…Only the factory.

Shit.

*goto escaperoutemenu

*label postrocketsituation

*if (rocketstall < 2)
   Speak of him and he shall appear. Fracture thuds into the room. He looks like hell, the not-quite-plating on his arms and chest spiderwebbed with cracks. He glances between you all, taking in the situation, then simply grunts.
       
*if (rocketescaped = false)
    You take the opportunity to divest yourself of your burden, putting Rocket on the ground. Architect produces some kind of mitts from his coat and stoops, swiftly fastening them over her hands.
    
    Wyrd laughs tiredly. "Can't believe you're using those."

Architect @{rocketescaped raps his knuckles on his helmet, shakes his head, then addresses the group. "I expect the Hounds will be here soon. Wyrd and I will search the house; hopefully we can find something to make this not a total failure.|ignores them, straightens, and addresses everyone. "We should split up. All of us together is too conspicuous, especially with cargo. Wyrd and I will bring Rocket somewhere secure.} $!{mask}, take Fracture and lay low. We'll link up once the heat has died down."

*choice
    #"Got it."
        Architect inclines his head, a fraction of an inch.
        
    #Nod silently. Conversation will slow us down. 
        *set expressive %- 5
        You aren't going to be the one to get sidetracked.
        
    #"Don't get caught."
        "Same to you," Wyrd half drawls, half mumbles.
        
    #Glance at Wyrd. I'm concerned about their wound.
        They catch you looking and @{(rel_wyrd > 50) give you a drained smile.|raise an eyebrow in mild surprise.}
        
        [i]"I'm okay,"[/i] they mouth.
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 5
        
    #"Lay low where, exactly?"
        "Figure it out," Architect snaps.
        
        *goto architectsnaps
    #"What about Ghoul?"
        *set rel_teddie +3
        Architect hesitates. You wish you could see his @{(observation < 25) face—though to be honest you'd probably have the same luck reading that as his helmet.|face, glean an idea of what's going through his head.} "Hopefully, ${whe}'ll calm down and make the rendezvous too."
        
        *if (romance_wil > 2)
            "Ghoul will be fine," says Fracture gruffly. You glance in his direction.
            
            Oh. He's trying to be reassuring.
            
        "Right," you say.
            
    #"Doesn't it make more sense for me or Fracture to @{rocketescaped help search?|carry her?} Wyrd's hurt."
        "Just do as I say, $!{mask}," Architect snaps.
        
        *label architectsnaps
        @{coven_history You can't help it, you flinch.|You flinch, nodding immediately, instinctively. Right. Orders, yes.|Hm. Okay then. You almost succeed at ignoring how close you came to flinching.}
        
    *selectable_if (rocketescaped) #"Can't we grab Spring Breaker or Insider instead?"
        Rocket was the target, sure, but surely it'd be better to interrogate one of those two than scrounge around and [i]hope[/i] to find something useful.

        Architect's helmeted head swivels sharply in your direction. You get the sense he's glaring at you. "We don't have time for this. No, we can't. I'll explain later."
        
        "If you say so."
        
        "I do. Wyrd, let's move." He strides from the room without a backward glance. Wyrd pushes off from the wall and trails after him, giving you and Fracture a limp salute as they pass.
        
        *goto thisalabelforsure
 
"Wyrd, let's move," says Architect, @{rocketescaped striding from the room without a backward glance.|Stooping to scoop Rocket over his shoulders, and then heading for the door.} Wyrd pushes off from the wall and trails after him, giving you and Fracture a limp salute as they pass.

*label thisalabelforsure
"Where to?" Fracture rumbles at your side. "Apartment's too far." He's shifting his weight uncomfortably, but it's difficult to get a handle on exactly how hurt he is. How severe is a broken bone for a man who generates them constantly?

You consider your current location. Your fairly limited knowledge of Alderbrook. The necessity for discretion.

The sinking realisation hits that the only secure area you know of that's remotely nearby is the factory you live in.
*label escaperoutemenu
*choice
    #Rack my brains for anywhere else we can feasibly go.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        You run through the angles again, grasping at every possibility that seems it could be remotely plausible. Each alternative has at least one gaping flaw, and your second assessment turns up much the same as the first. If you want to avoid getting caught, nothing compares to the factory. Nothing else is even close. 
        
        Secrecy is a problem, no doubt about it, but you know what would be an even bigger issue for your cover? Going to jail.

    #Bringing Fracture to my hideout really isn't ideal, but my hands are tied.
        You and Fracture stick out like a pair of sore thumbs, @{(speciality = 2) not least because these mutations aren't going to revert for a while.|and you can't just stand around reabsorbing the membrane in plain sight.}
        
        It's the best available option on short (zero) notice. Going there might—will—take a chunk out of your cover, but get this wrong, and you're finishing the day in a cell.  
        
    #Time's wasting, let's get moving.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        Maybe you'd come up with an alternative if you racked your brains hard enough, but the longer you stand around pondering, the narrower your window gets.
        
        The factory sprung to mind because the factory is the best option; secrecy won't matter a lick if you wind up in a cell. 
            
    *hide_reuse #"Don't you know anywhere?"
        He's local, why is this your job?
        
        "Anyplace I can think of, Rampage would think of too," he replies. "If the Hounds are still after her, big risk we'd run into them. Worst case, they'd be waiting for us."
        
        Despite the pragmatic bent to his words, @{(observation < 25) even you can't miss the overtone of worry.|the worried overtone is impossible to miss.}
        
        Whether or not you think the point is valid, the clock is ticking, and trying to change his mind will cost time you simply do not have.
        *goto escaperoutemenu
            
 
*if (collapsewounds_scum)
    "Yeah," you mumble. "Help me out."
    
    *goto notagawker
    
*elseif expressive < 35
    Catching Fracture's eye, you @{(rel_teddie < 25) jerk your head|beckon} for him to follow.

*else
    @{(rel_teddie < 25) "Alright, get your ass in gear,"|"Let's make tracks."} you tell Fracture. He grunts.

*goto notagawker

*label rocketdesc
She's damn slippery. You're starting to see the gulf between her and the likes of Hit. Both have projectile powers, but Rocket has actually developed combat skill to go along with them.

*return



*label youdonegoofed

You laugh, raucous joy spilling from you, building to a crescendo. It's been so long since you felt so unfettered, so free, so [i]alive.[/i]

Nothing and nobody can stop you now.

noTHING and noBODY

*if (juiced_rocket)
    There's lightning in your head and quicksilver in your bones and venom in your blood and venom in your heart and venom on your tongue. Rocket's got something in her hand and you tilt your head to look at the present and it blasts from her hand and hits you in the face, and you keep on laughing, staggering. She jumps at you and you catch her and throw her across the room and step where there is no floor and go tumbling, tumbling, tumbling
    
    fall broken. somebody beneath you—the sodden one bleach blonde battle on—and she tries to grasp and you break her grip and you break her @{brutalspring wrist and you break her arm|finger and you break her hand}
       
*else
   There's lightning in your head and quicksilver in your bones and venom in your blood and venom in your heart and venom on your tongue. You move faster than thought and think faster than faster than and you crash through the house and smash down everything in the way and it speeds up and more and it speeds up more
    
   you're back where you were and she's standing and trying to grasp—that's cute what a hoot screaming mute—you break her grip and you break her @{brutalspring wrist and you break her arm|finger and you break her hand}

vibrations all through your skin and the membrane and the membrane's your skin and you're still laughing

heat like fire. searing. pleasant, not painful. It warms your mouths and sits in your belly. You think you might be purring, but it's hard to hear with the buzz of the locusts and the gnashing teeth and the—you don't know that sound—or, you do know that sound, but not from here and it shouldn't be here because it doesn't make sense to be here, not when you're so strong and the chains are in pieces on the floor around you.

but you're smiling again because if you're hearing what you're hearing that it means you can finally get revenge because you're not weak any longer and so you turn to face the monster from your nightmares

and you blink and…

and…

*page_break Then what?
Blink blink. You're moving, taking drunken, wobbling steps. Someone's arm wraps around your shoulders, bearing almost all your weight.

"Fucking hell. You awake or what?"

"Nuh?"

"Fuck's sake."

They keep dragging you along. You feel you should perhaps do something about that, but the thought fizzles somewhere between existence and execution.

Blink blink.

"$!{mask}. Come the fuck on."

Huh.

This isn't S.C.U.M.'s place.

You've seen streets like this.

It's…

The Parks. Right. The Parks.

A hand suddenly has you by the face. You bite weakly at the fingers, to no avail.  

Bleary eyes meet a piercing glare of green from beyond a mask of bone.

"$!{mask}—[i]!${aka2}.[/i] I need you to tell me where the fuck we're going."

You mumble something and your eyes slide shut.

*page_break Then...?

Laying down. Metal above. Familiar. 

Blink blink.

Oh, the container. When did that happen?

You try to sit up. Your stomach lurches precipitously. Mm perhaps not.

Eyes open again.

Second attempt goes better. You feel bloated. Nauseous.

Scraping yourself off the mattress, you crawl to your mirror.

The face of your reflection is streaked in gore.

*if (speciality = 1)
    [i]full… eat…[/i]
    
    You glance down. The node stirs sluggishly, spitting out a small, slender object with a quiet [i]blep.[/i]
    
    A finger, nail painted in bright red.

*else
    You suddenly gag, gripped by a convulsion. Something long and stringy is caught in your throat. You hack, cough, and bring it up.
    
    A necklace glitters between your fingers, the chain hopelessly snarled.
    
Your mouth tastes of bloody meat.

*page_break

[i]she's screaming underneath you as you tear into her body, biting and ripping and so, so hungry. your mouths are filled with lumps of bloody flesh and you chew and gulp and swallow—[/i]

Your gut pitches and roils, you reel from the blood-soaked apparition in the mirror, tripping over your mattress and falling back with a thud.

Scraping metal. A figure appears in the container doorway. Fracture. He regards you silently for a moment, one hand resting on the door. He's still heavily studded with his bone growths, casting an uneven shadow across his face.

"You're awake. With me this time?"

You nod slowly, numbly. Your thoughts are like a struggling engine, revving and turning but never quite roaring to life.

Teddie nods back. "You've been in and out for about an hour. Remember anything?"

[i]the screams subside into bubbly choking. you rip chunks away with hands and tendrils and shovel it into your maws with desperate fervour—[/i] 

*choice
    #"I ate her."
        A rasping whisper speaks it into reality.
        
        You ate Spring Breaker alive.
        
        "Yep." Teddie, you realise, is on guard. He's [i]watching[/i] you. "You done eating?"
        
        *label satiated
        *choice
            #"What if I'm not?"
                He shrugs. "Guess I'll beat the shit out of you until you are."
                
                You don't think he's joking.
                
                "I'm done," you say quietly.
                
                *label teddiealright
                He takes a few seconds to inspect you. "Alright." He pushes off from the door. "I'll be outside. Come out when you can."
                
                *goto thoughtsonmonching
            #"I think so."
                He frowns slowly. "Think isn't good enough. You done, or am I beating the shit out of you until you are?"
                
                Tempting offer. Nevertheless, you give a nod, if that's what he wants.
                
                *goto teddiealright
            #"Yes."
                Another nod. "Good to know."
                
                You go quiet, hoping he has nothing more to add.
                
                *goto teddiealright
            
            #"Thought you'd ask what happened there."
                He shrugs. "Don't feel like making you repeat yourself. Figure I'll hear about it when the others do." 
                
                Even the thought of explaining to everyone chills your blood. You can barely explain to yourself.
                
                Or perhaps you just don't want to.
                
                After a few seconds of silent inspection, Teddie seems to take your response as a yes. "Alright." He pushes off from the door. "I'll be outside. Come out when you can."
                
                *goto thoughtsonmonching
            #Stare at him helplessly.
                A flicker of frustration crosses his face. "It's a reasonable fucking question, $!{aka2}. Don't look at me like that."
                
                You make a noise best describable as a whimper.
                
                Teddie inspects you for a few seconds, then shakes his head. "Okay. Whatever. Gonna take this as a yes." He pushes off from the door. "I'll be outside. Come out when you can."
                
                *goto thoughtsonmonching
                
    #"I lost control."
        A rasping whisper tells half a truth, excludes the 'and then'.
        
        You lost control and then ate Spring Breaker alive.
        
        "Sure. We'll go with that." Teddie's voice is flat. You both know the exclusion. His eyes are wary and watchful. "You done eating?"
        
        *goto satiated
        
    #Nod.
        You know. Teddie knows. Words are woefully insufficient for what this is: eating Spring Breaker alive.
           
        Alas, it seems he has no intention of leaving it at that. "Good. You done eating?" He's on guard, you realise, [i]watching[/i] you.
        
        *goto satiated
    
    #Try to block it out. I don't want to remember.
        You press the heels of your palms to your forehead and clench your eyes shut. You don't want this. It's not true. It wasn't you.
        
        "I'll take that as a yes," says Teddie, and he's right. There's no corner large enough to push these memories into.
        
        [i]the bleach blonde hair and pallid skin streak with crimson, she's not moving and that makes it easier to bite, and bite, and bite—[/i]
        
        You tremble, rocking back and forth.
        
        Teddie sighs. "So. Done eating?"
        
        *goto satiated
    #I lose my... lunch.
        You pitch onto your hands and knees, stomach turning itself inside out.
        
        Part of you wishes that you could abstract it. That you'll disgorge a nondescript, unidentifiable wave of ichor and sludge.
        
        Of course not.
        
        Blood. Gristle. Scraps of jewellery. Chunks of—you reach for meat, know it's flesh. Bits and pieces of Spring Breaker.
        
        You're not sure how long you're spilling your guts and reality onto the container floor, just that eventually, you're toppling back onto the mattress, breathing raggedly.
        
        "…not helping you clean that up," says Teddie.
        
        *choice
            #I actually laugh.
                It's hollow and washed out. Still technically counts.
                
            #Flip him off.
                His smile comes and goes in an instant. Was he trying to make you feel better?
                
            #Don't respond.
                Not that you're regaining composure any time soon, but you can at least try and get your body under control.
                
            #Don't respond. Asshole.
                Quipping? Seriously?
                
        "Done eating?" he continues. "Guessing you are, given… that, but I gotta ask."
        
        *goto satiated
                
        
       
        
*label thoughtsonmonching

He slips out, leaving to sit alone with your thoughts. They're always such great company. Even the world's most level head would have a hard time—[i]ugh[/i]—digesting this, and yours is nowhere close.

Predominantly, you're…
*choice
    #Terrified.
        *set monchthoughts 2
        *if psycho > 0
            *if psycho > 1
                *set psycho -2
      
            *else
                *set psycho -1
            
        *if brutal > 0
            *set brutal -1
            
        This is something out of your worst nightmares. To lose control of yourself, to be a passenger in your own body…
        
        Aren't you monstrous enough? Haven't you suffered enough?
        
        Another layer of bars to encase you. Fresh depths to the nightmares.
        
        If you're capable of ripping someone apart and eating them the moment you stop holding tight to the reins, then how can you ever feel safe again?
        
    #Disgusted.
        *if psycho > 1
            *if psycho > 2
                *set psycho -2
      
            *else
                *set psycho -1
            
        *if brutal > 1
            *set brutal -1
        
        *set monchthoughts 3
        If you needed any further confirmation that you're deeply, fundamentally screwed up, here's not just proof, @{(knowledge > 30) but an entire thesis complete with graphs and citations.|but a detailed explanation complete with diagrams.} Who does something like that? A monster. A senseless, ravening beast.
        
        Sounds a little like something you know very well.
        
        There's been a broken kind of solace in victimhood. It's a worse consolation than most to indulge in your own helplessness, but here and there, it's been useful to remember that this was inflicted upon you. Years of captivity and @{(defiance > 3) forced servitude|service} haven't been by choice. 
        
        What you just did, that was you. It doesn't matter that you lost control, it's irrelevant whether you were in your right mind. If ripping someone apart and eating them is what happens when you're not holding tight to the reins, that's [i]kind of a fucking problem.[/i]
        
    #Struggling to comprehend what that was.
        *set monchthoughts 4
        Words cannot adequately describe the mania of those maddened moments. It was as if every thought in your head and sensation in your body was amplified tenfold. If the enhanced Juice has that kind of effect, then why weren't you tweaking out from the moment you drank it? You were definitely twitchy beforehand, but you managed to harness your boosted powers earlier in the fight without @{(expressive > 45) going absolutely bugfuck nuts.|flying off the rails.}
        
        You could call it getting carried away, but that feels deeply lacking. Surface level. Even in your wildest moments, even when you've genuinely wanted to hurt someone, you've never felt the urge to tear into their flesh and start eating @{(speciality = 1) them. The nodes' single-minded hunger is nothing close to the ravening madness you just experienced.|them.} That can't serve as an explanation. It's simply insufficient.
        
        Did Hypothesis anticipate this? You can't fathom what he'd have to gain by letting one of his experiments go berserk. Then again, his motives have never been clear. Perhaps this is a great success in his books.
        
        …You don't have any answers, and you're not in the state of mind to figure them out. You'll have to come back to this when you've had a chance to—is process the right word? You don't know if you can. When you've sat with this a while. That, or talk to someone more knowledgeable on the subject. Because you have such excellent options there.
        
        *if (talk_cg_hq)
            Well… maybe @{(cgdisplay = 4) Mirella.|$!{cg}.}
            
            …but that'd mean telling her what you did.
            
    #Trying to be pragmatic.
        *set monchthoughts 5
        Focusing on the facts and practicalities is… difficult, with what happened flashing through your mind every few seconds. The best you can manage is reminding yourself that no amount of self-flagellation or self-loathing will change those events.
        
        Hey, it's more than you've ever accomplished for the rest of your trauma. Have to find the wins somewhere.
        
        It's done. Now, you live with it.
        
    #Disconnected.
        *set monchthoughts 6
        Your body doesn't feel like your own. That reflection did not look like you.
        
        You hold your hands up in front of you. They don't seem real. You touch your fingers to your thumbs, and the sensation doesn't permeate.
        
        Maybe it's just an excuse to hold back the guilt. Maybe it's a defence mechanism. Hard to put any proper words to this numbness.
        
        Perhaps someone—something—moved in and made your body their home when you weren't paying attention.
        
        It wasn't you. It couldn't have been you. You wouldn't do a thing like that. You wouldn't. You wouldn't tear into flesh and bring it to your mouth—
        
        You stare at the ceiling. It's all so very far away, and yet so terribly close.
        
    #Frustrated. This will land me in so much trouble.
        *set monchthoughts 7
        Setting aside the reasons for the episode for a moment, if you weren't already the heroes' public enemy number one, you've surely launched yourself to the top of the list. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that the Hounds don't piece together what happened; you're the only Altruist it makes sense as the culprit for something like this. For eating someone. Not to mention, the rest of the team is going to want an impossible explanation, that's if Dion doesn't decide you're a liability and kick you out. @{killer Mal reacted badly enough to you killing before. How will they take an act of cannibalism?|}
        
        Then there's the Coven. 'Don't attract the wrong kind of attention' is very much part of your objectives. You can't imagine this drawing anything [i]but[/i] the wrong kind of attention. One lapse, and your life just became immeasurably more complicated. What's the point of a power up if using it makes you go berserk?
        
        And ravenous.


What [i]was[/i] that new Juice? 

[i]"Ah, a fascinating outcome." He stands over you, taking notes as you bury both arms to the elbow in viscera, cramming it into your mouth as fast as possible—[/i]
        
You recoil from the imagined scene, thumping the heels of your palms into your forehead. Breathing heavily, you don't move until Hypothesis's voice clears out. Your mental playback reverting to only Spring Breaker's screaming, writhing body is almost a relief.

That's a good a signal as any to move. You need a distraction, or you'll be trapped in the spiral indefinitely.
*page_break Outside.

Teddie's leaning on some machinery, hands resting on his stomach. His positioning looks mildly awkward, and you realise that his growths are probably preventing him from folding his arms.

He tilts his head back as you emerge. You answer in kind.

…ugh. He'll have figured out that you live here. You can't have anything today.

*if ((rel_teddie < 25) or (punch_teddie))
    You sit heavily on a concrete barrier. Teddie regards you silently for longer than is comfortable, then finally speaks. "Dunno about you, but us fighting seems pretty irrelevant right now. Want to put that shit behind us?"
    
    Blinking, you look closely at him. He returns the scrutiny impassively. He wants to bury the hatchet… now?
    
    *choice
        #He dragged my sorry ass home. I owe him.
            *set owehimone true
            You were practically insensate, then literally unconscious. Getting both of you away from the scene can't have been a walk in the park, but here you both are.
            
            Even if Teddie's not keeping score—and you don't think he's the kind of person that does—you're in his debt. The least you can do is try to get along. 
            
            *goto isatruceoverjuice
        #He's right. Things are too serious for us to be squabbling.
            Holding a grudge at this point is just petty.
            
            *label isatruceoverjuice
            "Alright," you say. "It's a truce."
            
            "Mm."
            
            *goto trucing
        #So he's trying to hold what I did over my head? No.
            "Nothing's changed," you rasp. "We're not friends."
            
            He scowls. "Don't have to be, but whatever." He drags himself forward with some effort, then stomps off to the other side of the container.
            
            *goto angyteddie
    
    
*else
    You sit heavily on a concrete barrier. Teddie regards you silently for longer than is comfortable, then finally speaks. "If you're good now, I could use a hand." He gestures at a gnarled spire of bone protruding from his elbow. "Need to break these off. Easier with two people. Kay would help usually, but…"
    
    *goto stillontherun
 
*label notagawker
There's not a gawker in sight as you exit the building. Something to do with the burnt out car wreck, perhaps. Fracture glances at the scene, but has nothing to say about how you handled Cannibal.

*if (collapsewounds_scum)
    @{(rel_teddie < 25) You won't lie. Needing to lean on Fracture to get around is humiliating.|You bear as much of your own weight as you're able, but there's no choice but to lean on him.}
    
*if ((runningonfumes) or (mc_health > 3))
    You can't set as fast a pace as you'd like, but @{(mc_health > 3) with these injuries, even getting this abused carcass moving is a miracle.|at this point you're beyond running on fumes and into coasting on residual momentum.} Fracture bears his own struggles stoically, breathing hard but saying nothing.

*else
    You set as rapid a pace as Fracture's able to handle, something he sustains without complaint, though he's probably too stubborn to ask you to slow down.
    
    
Your good fortune holds for another block, then an oncoming siren forces you to duck into an alleyway. A few seconds later, a Glory Hounds van roars by, sending an uncomfortable prickling down your spine. You rode in one of those not too long ago, now it's heading to a crime scene of your own making. Maybe it's the same driver. Maybe Beth's a passenger— 

—no. No. Not the time for distraction. You need to keep moving.

*page_break Get the heck out of there.
The remainder of the trip is a series of close calls. While you can depend on the general public having the self-preservation instincts not to impede you, the Altruists have already been screwed over by one good samaritan today, and you try to avoid encounters as best you can. If someone brings the Hounds down on you, you'll be in deep shit. At one stage, huddled in the shadows, Fracture takes a second to message Rampage with the destination for an eventual rendezvous.

Whatever. Not like he wouldn't just tell her about the factory anyway.

Ironic that reaching the Parks signals that you're out of the woods. You catch Fracture's eyebrows rising as he recognises where you're headed.

Just a few more blocks to go. Wringing the last ounces of effort from your body, you stumble towards the finish line, @{collapsewounds_scum draped on Fracture's shoulder like laundry.|Fracture struggling along at your side.}

You almost collapse to your knees in relief as you slip inside the factory. Its decaying walls have never felt more welcoming. You shuck the membrane from your face, desperate to feel cool air on your skin.

"What is this place?" Fracture mutters, looking around.

*if (po_teddie = false)
    *goto ilivehere
*if ((rel_teddie < 25) or (punch_teddie))
    *choice
        #Ignore him.
            Your interest in talking to Fracture is non-existent. 
            
            As you continue walking, you hear a derisive snort.
            
        #Give a brief answer.
            You've got to at least vaguely co-exist. 
            
            "Somewhere safe."
            
            He looks doubtful. You allow him to. You answered the question, which was the bare minimum standard for civility.
*else
    *label ilivehere
    *choice
        #"I live here."
            *set ilivehere true
            He blinks. "What."
            
            "I said I live here."
            
            He narrows his eyes in an 'are you fucking with me?' type expression. Even if you were, good luck reading a non-existent face.
            
            You keep walking. He'll see for himself soon enough.
            
        #"Safe."
            He looks doubtful.
            
            "Closest thing to it we're going to get," you revise.
            
            He grunts.
            
        #"It's just somewhere I found."
            "Found," he repeats.
            
            You nod. He frowns, but lets it go.
            
        #Concentrate on getting home before I keel over.
            It's not that you want to snub him, you're just a stiff breeze away from hitting the concrete, and if that happens, you don't think you're getting up for roughly a month.
            
            You shake your head and point vaguely, which will have to serve as an excuse.
            
Briefly debating in your head whether you should keep him out of the container entirely, the desire to sit on something not made of metal or concrete wins out over privacy concerns. Playing coy went out the window when you decided to come here. Moving to the container, you unlock the door and get it opened up.

You can't help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness as Fracture clomps up to your side and regards the interior of your home. @{(rel_teddie < 25) With irritation, you suppress it. You aren't friends, and you don't need his judgement.|He's not exactly the type to find something nice to say no matter what.}

*if livingconditions = 3
    You've done your best, but that only lifts the bar out of the basement. It's still sitting on the floor.
    
*elseif livingconditions = 2
    When the best compliment you can give the place is 'technically liveable', the struggle is clear.
   
*else
    Squalid. Destitute. Desperate. Take your pick.
    
*if (ilivehere)
    "Guess you actually do," says Fracture.

*else
    "You're living here," says Fracture.
    
*choice
    #"Yeah, and?"
        "Nothing," he says, still looking into the container.
        
    #@{ilivehere "Yes, I didn't just lie for no reason."|"Gee, what gave it away?"}
        He regards you wearily, then he shakes his head. "Too tired to argue."

    #Shrug.
        He grunts, ending that particularly verbose dialogue.

    #""I mean, are you shocked? I look like I crawled out of a dumpster. This is the dumpster."
        @{tidy "Look a little less that way lately. But okay."|He grunts. "I try not to assume."}
        
        @{tidy That stops you short. You didn't think he cared enough to notice.|You nod carefully.}

    #"Yeah. Welcome to my humble abode."
        *if ((rel_teddie < 25) or (punch_teddie))
            *set humbleabode true
            He gives you a curious glance, and you realise he was probably expecting you to snap at him. Maybe the relief of reaching the safe haven temporarily overcame your animosity for him.
            
            "Sure," he says.
            
        *else
            "Thanks." His mouth gets halfway to a smile and gives up.
            
    *selectable_if (livingconditions = 1) #"You don't need to tell me it's shit."
        "Figured I didn't need to point that out when you live here."
        
        It's a clean rebuttal to your defensiveness. You shut your mouth.

After several seconds of awkward silence, Fracture turns to you fully. His brow is furrowed so deeply it could be etched in bone, @{(rel_teddie < 25) but for once|but} you don't think it's directed at you. @{(rel_teddie < 25) Not specifically at you, anyway.|}

*if ((rel_teddie < 25) or (punch_teddie))
    *if (humbleabode)
        *set rel_teddie +5
        
    *if (punch_teddie)
        "Last time we had a talk, you punched me," he says. "It's whatever. I made you mad. I'd rather put this shit behind us." 
        
        *label disliketeddie
        *choice
            *if (punch_teddie)
                #"Damn straight you made me mad."
                    Your temper flares a little at the memory. [i]Trust issues,[/i] he said. Asshole.
                    
                    "Yeah, well. Was bad for both of us."
                    
                    *choice
                        #"So was that an apology, or...?"
                            *set theworldspettiestvariable true
                            His eyes narrow, but then he sighs. "Yeah. Guess it is."
                            
                            After a moment to savour it, you nod.
                            
                            *goto trucing
                        #My frustration dissipates. "You're right."
                            *set rel_teddie +2
                            He nods soberly.
                            
                            "Truce?" you offer.
                            
                            "Sure."
                            
                            *label trucing
                            *if (overjuiced)
                                You don't shake on it, being that you are still covered in blood.
                                
                            *else
                                @{touchingokay He extends his hand, and you shake on it.|You don't shake on it, but exchange respectful nods.} @{theworldspettiestvariable Been doing a lot of that this conversation.|}
                                
                            *goto teddiemakeup
                        #He has a point.
                            *set theworldspettiestvariable true
                            When you don't offer up a response, he speaks. "Truce?"
                            
                            After a moment more of hesitation, you finally nod.
                            
                            *goto trucing
                        #Shake my head. I'm not in the wrong here.
                            His eyes narrow. You meet his gaze levelly.
                            
                            "Whatever," he mutters, stomping off around to the opposite side of the container.
                            
                            There goes the olive branch. @{(patchup = 2) Sorry, Kay.|}
                            
                            *goto angyteddie
                
                
                #"You'd seriously let go that go?"
                    "Both were out of line," he answers. "Not the first time someone's taken a swing at me."
                    
                    But he's so personable!
                    
                    Regardless, it's an olive branch. Plus, despite what he said to you, you [i]did[/i] hit him.
                    
                    "Alright," you say. "Truce."
                    
                    *goto trucing
                    
       
            *else
                #"About damn time, dude."
                    He grimaces, forcing a response through gritted teeth. "Don't push it."
                    
                    @{(expressive > 55) "Yeah, yeah."|Withholding a smirk, you shrug.} Can't blame you for savouring it a little.
                    
                    *goto trucing
                #"That'd be great." I've wanted to put this to bed for a while.
                    *label somerelief
                    *set rel_teddie +2
                    *set theworldspettiestvariable true
                    Some relief slips through his dour mask. "Truce, then?"
                    
                    A quick nod.
                    
                    *goto trucing
            #"Fine." I'm tired of squabbling with him anyway.
                *set theworldspettiestvariable true
                His eyebrows rise. "Yeah?" He seems taken aback you agreed so readily.
                
                A quick nod.
                
                *goto trucing
                
                *label teddiemakeup
                *set po_teddie false
                *set rel_kay %+ 5
                *set patchup 4
                *if (compatible_teddie)
                    *set romance_teddie 0
                *if rel_teddie < 30
                    *set rel_teddie 30
                    
                *else
                    *set rel_teddie %+ 10
                
                
                For a few seconds, the two of you stand there staring at each other. Awkwardness is becoming par for the course. 
                
                Teddie grimaces. "…Could actually use a hand. It's not why I asked. Just haven't had the chance to talk." He's not making eye @{(observation > 34) contact, though otherwise you aren't picking up any tells he could be lying.|contact. Worried you'll figure him out? You can't tell if he's being honest.}
                
                *if (owehimone)
                    Well. You did just get done thinking how you owed him. So… you know. Would be kinda shitty to turn him down.
                    
                    "It's fine. What's up?" you say.
                    
                    *goto slowteddienod
                    
                *else
                    *choice
                        #Give him the benefit of the doubt.
                            *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                            "Fair enough," you say. You're reasonably confident Teddie would rather walk ten miles on a broken leg than admit fault for the sake of getting a favour.

                            *label slowteddienod
                            Teddie @{hurtfeelings takes in your reaction for a moment, then sighs and starts talking.|nods slowly.} "Need to break these off." He gestures at a gnarled spire of bone protruding from his elbow. "Easier with two people. Kay would help usually, but…"

                            *goto stillontherun
                        #I feel used. If I hadn't been fighting all day, I'd be tempted to take another swing.
                            *set hurtfeelings true
                            For a second, you thought you'd made positive progress, but no, he wanted something from you all along.

                            Fuck right off.

                            *goto slowteddienod
                        #I'll hear him out but I'm not happy about it.
                            *set hurtfeelings true
                            You fold your arms and glower. Convenient that he'd apologise right when he wants something.

                            *goto slowteddienod
                        #...It's Teddie. Come on.
                            At no point has he been anything other than @{sexualitytalk_teddie straight—uhhh [i]straightforward[/i]—with|straight with} you. Faking an apology to ask a favour would be completely out of character.

                            The spy mindset is getting to you.
                            
                            "Go on," you say.
                            
                            *goto slowteddienod
                    
            *selectable_if (patchup > 1) #...Kay [i]did[/i] ask me to patch things up with him.
                @{(patchup = 3) Sure, you told her no, but can't you change your mind?|So fine, whatever. You guess you can do it for her sake.}
                
                "Alright, fine," you say. "It's in the past."
                
                *goto somerelief

            #"I'm sure this is out of the goodness of your heart."
                You're not a sucker. He wants something from you.
                
                He looks simultaneously abashed and annoyed. "…I [i]could[/i] use a hand, but it's not why I'm asking. Just haven't had the chance to talk."
                
                *choice
                    #"So the apology is on the table even if I don't help?"
                        "[i]Fuck[/i] you're making this difficult," he growls. "Do you or do you not want us to stop fighting?"
                        
                        *choice
                            #I guess I do.
                                *set theworldspettiestvariable true
                                You sigh. "I don't want to fight."
                                
                                "We've got other shit to worry about," Teddie says. 
                                
                                You nod slightly. "Truce?"
                                
                                "Yeah."
                                
                                *label trucing2
                                *if (overjuiced)
                                    You don't shake on it, being that you are still covered in blood.
                                
                                *else
                                    @{touchingokay He extends his hand, and you shake on it.|You don't shake on it, but exchange respectful nods.} @{theworldspettiestvariable Been doing a lot of that this conversation.|}
                                    
                                *set po_teddie false
                                *set rel_kay %+ 5
                                *set patchup 4
                                *if (compatible_teddie)
                                    *set romance_teddie 0
                                *if rel_teddie < 30
                                    *set rel_teddie 30
                    
                                *else
                                    *set rel_teddie %+ 10
                                    
                                "So. You needed something," you say.
                                
                                "Mm…" The abashed side of his expression wins out entirely, and he gestures vaguely at a gnarled spire of bone protruding from his elbow. "Need to break these off. Easier with two people. Kay would help usually, but…"
                                
                                *goto stillontherun
                            #Not if he's just using me.
                                "If it's under false pretences, then no," you say, staring him down.
                                
                                *goto throwsuphands
                                
                            
                    #Even if he does want something, I'm still tired of us being at each other's throats.
                        *if (patchup > 1)
                            And Kay did ask you to patch things up with him. @{(patchup = 3) Sure, you said no, but you can change your mind if you want to.|Not going to get many—or any—better chances.} 
                        
                        *else
                            You have enough enemies. You don't need one on your own team.
                            
                        "Alright. Fine," you say. "Truce."
                        
                        *goto trucing2
                        
                    #Pff. Sure. Okay. I'm not buying it.
                        "Wow, that's such a weird coincidence," you say, injecting a lethal dose of sarcasm.
                        
                        *label throwsuphands
                        He throws up his hands. "[i]Fine,[/i]" he grinds out. "Guess we're done." He goes stomping off, disappearing around the side of the container.
                        
                        *goto angyteddie
                
    
    *else
        "…we don't like each other," he says. "Don't [i]need[/i] to like each other, but I'd rather put the shit behind us."
        
        *goto disliketeddie

                
*else
    "Could use a hand." He gestures at a gnarled spire of bone protruding from his elbow. "Need to break these off. Easier with two people. Kay would help usually, but…"
    
    *label stillontherun
    Still on the run, last you heard. Hopefully, the battle with S.C.U.M. got the Hounds off her tail.
    
    …wait, does she have—
    
    You focus on Teddie.
    *label helpingteddiemenu
    *choice
        *hide_reuse #"Doesn't that... hurt?"
            He smiles, ice cold. "Sure does."
            
            You don't speak, waiting for him to elaborate.
            
            He does not.
            *goto helpingteddiemenu
        #Tell him I'll help.
            *set bones_teddie 3
            "Okay," you say. "Just tell me what I need to do."
            
            *label teddiewiden
            Teddie's eyes widen by the smallest degree. "Yeah? I mean—yeah, sure."
            
            *goto helpingbones
        *if ((runningonfumes) or (mc_health > 3)) 
            *hide_reuse #@{collapsewounds_scum "I'm a mess, man. I'll probably just get in the way."|"Don't really have a whole lot in the tank here either, man."}
                He shrugs. "You can just brace stuff. Don't necessarily need brute force."
                
                You suppose that he'd know better than you.
                
                *goto helpingteddiemenu
            
        *if ((psycho < 3) and (brutal < 4))
            *hide_reuse #The prospect makes me kind of green around the gills.
                "You want me to help… break your bones?" you say queasily.

                Teddie nods. "Better to do it now than wander around with them out. Lucky we didn't get spotted on the way here." His tone is casual, like he's discussing bringing in the groceries.
                
                Right then.
                
                *choice
                    #I don't think I can handle that.
                        *set bones_teddie 2
                        "Sorry," you mutter. "It sounds like too much for me."
                        
                        He sighs heavily. "Alright. I get it."
                        
                        You can't help feeling a twinge of guilt as he trudges around to the other side of the container, shoulders slumping.
                        
                        *goto nohelpforteddie
                    #Maybe I can just be moral support?
                        *set bones_teddie 4
                        That wouldn't be… quite as bad as participating for yourself. You hope.
                        
                        *goto distractionhelps
                        
                    #Ugh. I'll tough it out.
                        *set bones_teddie 3
                        Quashing down the nausea, you take a deep breath. "Alright. Just tell me what I need to do."
                        
                        *goto teddiewiden
                        
            
        #I don't think I'm up to this, but I can keep him company.
            *set bones_teddie 4
            *label distractionhelps
            "I don't think that's something I can do," you say quietly. "Would it help for me to just be around?"
            
            *label teddietilt
            Teddie tilts his head, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. Distraction helps. Wil's done that before."
            
            *goto helpingbones
        #No way.
            *set bones_teddie 2
            You shake your head. Teddie's expression cracks, a sliver of disappointment peeking through.
            
            "Fine," he says. "It'll take a while. Don't bother me."
            
            With that, he goes trudging off around to the other side of the container, shoulders slumping.
            
            *goto nohelpforteddie
        *hide_reuse #I tactfully imply that this doesn't seem very healthy.
            *set rel_teddie %- 5
            @{(terminate > 1) Hypocrite, a voice whispers in your head.|If this is a regular thing for him, that's worrying.}
            
            "Isn't there a way to do this that doesn't involve snapping your own bones? That's pretty, you know, harsh to do to yourself."
            
            Teddie blinks at you, then his already-stonefaced expression manages to harden. "I didn't ask for an opinion, I asked if you'd help. If you've got a problem with it, then don't help."
            
            You can tell when pressing a topic would be a bad idea.
            
            *goto helpingteddiemenu
        *selectable_if ((hurtfeelings) or (psycho > 3)) #He's actually inviting me to hurt him? Sweet.
            …
            
            Miiiight need to unpack that thought at some point.
            
            "Sure," you tell him, said thought jittering around your skull. This shouldn't be exciting you, should it?
            
            Oblivious to any ulterior motives, Teddie looks gratified. "Thanks. I'll tell you what you need to do."
            
            *goto helpingbones
        *if (t_teddie) #"Sure, okay. You're just looking for an excuse for me to touch you." @{ftone [Flirt, trainwreck]|}
            *set flirt_teddie +1
            *set overt_teddie true
            You almost hear the record scratch.
            
            Teddie stares at you. You stare back. 
            
            Is it possible to sentence your own brain to summary execution? [i]Why the ever-loving fuck did you say that?[/i]
            
            "…I don't play those kinds of games," he says, finally. "If I want to get touched, you'll know."
            
            There's a [i]look[/i] on his face. Speculative. More exasperated than annoyed. Somehow, your disasterpiece of a comment hasn't gone down entirely negatively.
            
            *choice
                #Sure as hell can't back down now, can I?
                    *set bones_teddie 3
                    "You're asking," you point out.
                    
                    Now some irritation seeps through. "Not for that." He grimaces, grinding a palm against his forehead, bone grating on bone. "Look, are you helping, or making weird comments?"
                    
                    You start to protest, then realise you don't have a leg to stand on. "Fine. I'll help. What do I need to do?"
                    
                    He makes a complicated expression. His nod feels half a moment late. "I'll show you."
                    
                    *goto helpingbones
                #Unfortunately, I'm going to be a bit occupied screaming internally to help out.
                    *set bones_teddie 2
                    "Okay!" you almost shout. "I'll—leave you to it, then!"
                    
                    Teddie says something that doesn't register as you retreat around the corner of the shipping container, slide down to the ground, and bury your head in your hands.
                    
                    It'd be just swell if you could be struck down from on high. You don't ask for much.
                    
                    You wind up stewing there for a good half hour.
                    *goto nohelpforteddie
                
        *selectable_if (overjuiced) #"Are you sure you trust me to do that?"
            The evidence of your feeding frenzy is splattered all across your body. You wouldn't trust you.
            
            Teddie tilts his head and seems to genuinely think about it. "Yeah. You're coherent. Don't think you'll do it again." He pauses. "So soon."
            
            Ugh.
            
            "…more confident than I am," you mutter, though in truth, that hyperactive buzzing charge of the Juice has faded almost entirely. You're probably not an immediate danger.
            
            A razor thin smile. "Comes down to it, could give you one as a chewtoy."
            
            *choice
                #"Fuck off," I say, laughing.
                    *set expressive %+ 5
                    *set rel_teddie %+ 7
                    
                    Teddie's smile gets a modicum larger.
                    
                    Making jokes of the worst subject matter. Is that how all villains get through the day, or are the two of you especially morbid?
                    
                #"That isn't funny," I snap.
                    He shrugs, unbothered.
                    
                    You suppress your irritation. Won't get anywhere blowing up at him.
                    
                #"Uh... right..."
                    *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                    
                    *label uhright
                    *if (flirt_teddie > 2)
                        He suddenly looks very abashed. "Sorry—forget it."
                        
                        You nod, uncertain.
                        
                        "Anyway, uh. What do you say?" he segues hurriedly.
                        
                        *goto teddiehelpmenuB
                    *else
                        *label smilegoes
                        The smile goes. He's had his fun.
                        
                #Glare at him.
                    May as well stare down a statue.
                    
                    *goto smilegoes
                #I'm not responding to that.
                    *set expressive %- 5
                    *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                    It does not deserve to be dignified with a reply.
                    
                    *goto uhright
                    
                *if ((aro != 4) and (compatible_teddie)) #My face warms, and I find reason to closely inspect my hands. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                    *set flirt_teddie + 1
                    *set interest_teddie true
                    
                    No, no, no, no, bad $!{forename}. We are not going there today—or any day!—because we are so completely normal, right? Right. 
                    
                    "$!{aka2}?" Teddie frowns.
                    
                    "Yeah? Sorry, what?" you say in a rush.
                    
                    He squints at you, perplexed. "Uh… you gonna help?"
                    *goto teddiehelpmenuB
                    
                    
            "So, you gonna help out?" he says.
            *label teddiehelpmenuB
            *choice
                #I don't think this is a good idea.
                    *set bones_teddie 2
                    "After what happened I… I just don't know," you say, not making eye contact.
                    
                    He sighs. "Alright. I get it. I'll do it on my own."
                    
                    You glance up just enough to watch him trudge around the corner of the container, his shoulders slumped.
                    
                    *goto nohelpforteddie
                #Can I just be moral support? That seems less risky.
                    *set bones_teddie 4
                    "What if I was just… around?" you venture. "Kept you company. That way I'm not… you know." You gesture vaguely, not wanting to put it into words.
                    
                    *goto teddietilt
                #Screw it. I'll help him.
                    *set bones_teddie 3
                    You can't let yourself get paralysed, and there's no need to assume the worst. 
                    
                    …and if the worst case scenario is real and you're completely unable to control yourself, it's better to know now than later. At least Teddie would have a fighting chance.
                    
                    Shaking off that grim thought, you nod. "Alright. Just tell me what to do."
                    
                    *goto teddiewiden
                    
        *if (sexualitytalk_teddie)
            *selectable_if ((compatible_teddie = false) and (expressive > 64)) #@{(expressive > 64) "You're asking me to jump your bones? I thought you were gay?"|I swallow a one liner about him asking me to 'jump his bones'. I'd absolutely botch it.}
                *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                "Fuck off," he grumbles.
                
                You grin at him. "You're smiling."
                
                "Am fucking not," he retorts, mouth twitching.
                
                "Suurrre."
                
                "Better be fucking helping if you're gonna give me shit," he complains.
                
                "Alright, alright," you say, grin not budging. "Just tell me what I need to do."
                
    
*label helpingbones
*page_break
*set rel_teddie %+ 10
"Gonna need some space," Teddie explains, stepping away from the container. He glances around at the factory floor and nods approvingly. "Good place for it. Roomy. A lot to hit." He walks over to a pillar and lines his elbow up with it, miming driving his arm into the concrete. He frowns and steps back, shaking his head. "Bad angle."

*if (bones_teddie = 4)
    As he moves back and forth, conducting similar tests with various protruding bones and industrial wreckage, you find a barrel to perch yourself on and watch. Now that you're here, you feel a little awkward as a spectator. What are you going to do, cheer and clap for him while he painfully breaks himself apart?
    
    He catches your eye as you sit there, giving you an unusually wry smile. "Don't have to do anything. Helps just knowing I'm not alone." He quickly looks away, but not quite quickly enough that you don't spot the rush of colour to his cheeks. He clears his throat, head still turned in the opposite direction. "…Anyway. Gonna get started."
    
    *page_break Keep him company.
    Teddie moves to a piece of machinery so rusted that you can't even tell what it used to be. He goes through the same measuring process again, and then nods. Setting himself, he takes a deep breath, then drives his elbow down. There's a deadwood-like crack as the protruding spur snaps off, leaving just a couple of inches poking through the skin. Teddie grunts, stepping back while opening and closing the joint.

    @{(expressive > 45) "You okay?" you ask.|You catch his eye, tilting your head in question.}

    "It's fine," he rasps, massaging his elbow. "Used to this."

    For the next couple of breaks, it's as if you're not even there. He doesn't even glance at you. But then, as moves towards another target, slowly rolling each of his shoulders, he speaks. "Not as bad as it looks, by the way. If I concentrate on them, I can make it a little easier. Weaken them." He frowns a moment. "Dunno what I'd do if it took the same force as a regular break."

    "That's something," you agree. A little limp of a response, but you don't know what else to say. 

    He glances over, wearing that same smile again. "Yeah, fucking weird, I know."

    At least he's acknowledging it.

    Conversation continues sporadically. Teddie's focused and you don't want to distract him, plus, you suspect that checking on him after every break would get on his nerves. There's a strange rhythm to Teddie's movement; he searches for the right spot, gets into position, then violently rams part of his body into the obstacle. Best case, the bone snaps off immediately. Some, though, take two or three attempts. And as for the worst…

    *gosub badbreak

    *page_break
    Teddie limps back up to a pillar. He closes his eyes, draws a breath, and then reopens them again, miming slamming his messed-up shin into the pillar.

    Then, with a yell, he executes the manoeuvre for real, shattering the bone into splinters. He staggers back, cursing and shaking out his leg, but also holds up a hand before you can check in on him.

    "I'm alright. The pain—ugh—pain passes fast once the bone's gone."

    "If you say so."

    "Mm." Teddie casts about, then moves to a chunk of bone he broke off earlier. "Look. Mess takes care of itself." He steps on the broken-off chunk, and it crumbles beneath his foot. "Soon as they're off me, they're like chalk."

    Though he's blatantly changing the subject, he's already been plenty candid with you, and you elect not to push him. "Convenient, I suppose."

    "Yup."

    Teddie resumes roaming around, reestablishing his macabre rhythm as he snaps bones one after the other. More and more, he begins to resemble the shorn state you've seen him in after your previous missions; merely studded as opposed to spiked. He's had to do this every time?

    This is probably the best chance you're going to get to ask about his powers. He seems open to sharing, so long as you stick to the less sensitive topics.
    *label teddiebonesmenu
    *choice
        *hide_reuse #Comment on how bloodless this is.
            @{(bones_teddie =3) A moment ago you pretty much tore a hole in his leg, yet there's barely a fleck of blood on either of you.|}

            *if ((overjuiced) and (bones_teddie = 3))
                …Not from Teddie, anyway.

            "You noticed, huh?" Teddie nods. "Yeah. Power does me a couple of favours when it's not being—yeah."

            @{(expressive > 45) "Go on."|You incline your head, indicating you're listening.}

            "Barely bleeds even when they first poke through," Teddie elaborates. "Bleed less in general, actually. Guess you'd call that a silver lining." He unenthusiastically fist pumps. "Whoo."

            @{(expressive > 55) "Whoo," you echo, just as flatly. He snorts.|You remain silent, not wanting to echo any platitudes. Considering where the bones pierce the skin, if he did bleed normally, his powers would probably outright kill him; it's as if they do the absolute bare minimum to help him live with them.}

            @{(expressive > 55) Though, in seriousness: rough. Considering where the bones pierce the skin, normal bleeding would probably straight-up kill him. guess you can award his powers the 'doing the absolute bare minimum' prize.|}

            "Oh. Take a look at this." Teddie presents his shin to you; past the shattered bone, you can see glimpses of the meat and sinew of his leg. However, as you look on the ragged skin to either side of the gash begins to pucker and knit, steadily closing the wound with nary a trace.

            Explains why he's not a walking mass of scars. "Regeneration?" you ask, glancing back up.

            "Something like that," he answers. "Slow, though. Not gonna stitch me back together in the middle of a fight."

            *goto teddiebonesmenu
        *hide_reuse #Ask if these same bones will regrow.
            Teddie shakes his head. "Most of the time they don't." He twists, showing the nub of bone protruding from his elbow. If you're not mistaken, it's already looking a little smoother. "Once I break 'em down like this, my body seems to get that they're not wanted and sorta, reabsorbs them."

            @{(speciality = 3) "I suppose there's some kind of reaction if you overprune, as it were," you reason.|"Is there something stopping you from keeping them trimmed?" you ask.}

            A thin smile. @{(speciality = 3) "Got that right. Accelerates the growth.|"Yeah. New ones grow faster.} Gets fast enough there's no point, and you already know this isn't fun and games to do. Works out to more pain, more often."

            You grimace sympathetically.

            "Guess my power just wants there to always be a certain amount of itself," Teddie says, looking oddly philosophical.

            *goto teddiebonesmenu
        *hide_reuse #What happens if he leaves the bones be?
            *set talkedleavebe true
            "Good question." Teddie brushes his fingers over the longest bone still intact, curving like a meathook from one shoulder. "Eventually, they drop off by themselves, but it's a huge pain in the ass. Tend to be big enough that they're causing real problems at that point."

            "Problems?"

            Teddie grunts. "Too wide for doorways, or I'm knocking shit over, or I can't bend over, or I can't put a fucking shirt on." He laughs humourlessly. "I go through [i]so[/i] many fucking clothes. It'd be funny how stupid that is, but money doesn't grow on trees."

            *if (expressive > 65)
                "Ah, so that's why you turned to a life of crime," you remark drily. "Shirt money."

                He blinks, then absolutely hides a laugh behind a cough. "God. Fuck you."

                You smile innocently at him.

            *else
                "Please tell me that's not why you became a villain."

                He blinks. "…no." He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand.

                You're ninety-nine percent sure he's hiding a smile.

            Teddie @{(expressive > 65) goes on.|hurries on.}  "They get heavy as fuck too, and depending on where they are, they don't even have to be that big to give me headaches." He scowls. "Been a few times I couldn't sit down, and sleeping's a whole fucking ordeal. Fuck up a lot of mattresses and sheets too." He stops, squeezing his hands into fists, then releasing, squeezing, then releasing. "…so yeah. I can wait, but I don't. Worse than doing it myself." @{talkedgrowth He's quiet a moment, then something seems to occur to him. "Oh, and making 'em grow out doesn't help. Still takes just as long for them to drop by themselves. Longer, sometimes."|}

            How much of his attitude is down to his personality, and how much is because he's permanently tired and in pain?

            *goto teddiebonesmenu
        *hide_reuse #Ask how resilient he really is.
            *set discussrocket_teddie true
            "Thinking of taking @{punch_teddie another|a} swing?"

            @{punch_teddie "Maybe."|"Just asking."}

            The corner of Teddie's mouth quirks up. "Truth is, I'm not sure. Can do the focus thing in reverse to make the bones tougher. Rocket did kind of a number on me before but mostly she just knocked me around. I've seen what she can do to people when she launches shit at them. Not pretty." @{rocketescaped He frowns. "Sucks she got away. Deserved an ass kicking."|His eyes glitter. "Good job taking her out. Wouldn't mind 'convincing' her to talk."}

            "You know her?"

            "Just seen the aftermath of those assholes rolling through a neighbourhood. Rocket's better than the last guy S.C.U.M. had, but not by much." He shrugs. "Anyway, original question: I can take a hit, but I'm not lining up to fight that walking bicep on the Hounds." 

            @{(expressive > 55) Hehe. Walking bicep.|Well, that's a mental image.}

            *goto teddiebonesmenu
        *hide_reuse #How much control does he have over them? After all, he can force them to grow.
            *set talkedgrowth true

            "I can encourage what's there," Teddie corrects, staring accusingly at an offending ossification. "Including getting 'em to push out early." He touches the 'mask' partway covering his face. "Can only properly do anything up here, and even then I can't really shape it." He sighs heavily. "Thank fuck it crumbles easy. Otherwise I'd have to headbutt shit, and that sounds fucking miserable."

            You picture Teddie ramming his skull into concrete with the same force as he's been smashing his limbs, and @{(psycho > 3) almost smirk.|wince.}

            "Guess it's semantics anyhow. So sure, yeah, I can get them to grow, but fuck knows what they'll do. If I'm unlucky, I wind up with something fucked up." @{talkedleavebe He scowls. "And it sucks extra hard waiting for them to drop off. Doesn't make it happen any faster, before you ask."|}

            @{talkedleavebe Well, shit. There's an extra raw deal. Adds some context to whenever Teddie produces|That makes sense. Every time you've seen Teddie produce} those 'battle-mode' bones, or whatever the term for them would @{talkedleavebe be. Every time,|be,} they've looked extra cumbersome, disabling, and generally uncomfortable. Take the setup he'd wound up with in the Zone; he couldn't even use his hand.

            *if (speciality = 2)
                "Sounds like my mutations," you murmur. Ceding control and gambling you get something good. Having to wait for it to pass. Similar principles. @{overjuiced Your most recent changes must have retreated while you were delirious slash unconscious.|Your changes are barely beginning to retract, and the fight's long over with.}

                "…Guess Kay was right, we really are team weird body."

                You'd forgotten about that, @{(expressive > 55) and laugh.|smile. Slightly.}

            *else
                *if (expressive > 60)
                    "I won't ask you for any party tricks, then."

                    "Asshole." He's almost smiling.

                *elseif (expressive > 40)
                    "Could you fight without doing it?"

                    "Not as effectively." He shakes his head. "I knew what I was getting into. Don't gotta get all concerned."

                *else
                    "A double edged sword, then."

                    "You sound like Dion."

                    Unsure if that's a compliment, you don't respond.

            *goto teddiebonesmenu

        #There's nothing else I want to ask about.
            *if (bones_teddie = 3)
                That's enough power talk; time for power action. Of a sort. Perhaps 'power maintenance' is more fitting.
                
                Inclining your head to Teddie, the two of you situate once again. A couple more rounds of this, and you could see yourself developing a rhythm with him.
                
                Winding tendrils around the final growth, you wrench, twist, and snap it off with a loud crack. Teddie grunts, then straightens up, letting out a long groan of relief. He takes a couple of steps to the closest solid object, puts his back to it, and then slides down to the ground in a heap. Sharp-edged remnants of his growths protrude from him everywhere you look, but he seems lighter, nonetheless. That burden isn't only physical.
                
                "So much easier with another person. Thanks, $!{aka}."
                
                @{runningonfumes As tapped out as he is, you flop onto the floor. Concrete feels like a feather bed to your aching body.|}
                
                The two of you remain there companionably, until the sound of scuffing footsteps comes through the air.
                *goto kayarrives

            *else
                You've had your fill of discussing powers, and as it happens, it seems that Teddie's efforts have reached the home stretch.

                With one final crack of bone, Teddie straightens up and lets out a long groan of relief. "Finally." He turns and slopes up to you, putting his back against the closest solid object and sliding down to the ground in a heap. Sharp-edged remnants of his growths protrude from him everywhere you look, but he seems lighter, nonetheless. That burden isn't only physical.

                "Hope Kay will be here next time I have to do this," he says, then gives you a sidelong look. "You're not so bad though, $!{aka}."
                
                *choice
                    #"Excuse you? I'm incredible."
                        @{(expressive > 60) "Yeah, yeah. Careful you don't float away on that ego."|He tilts his head. "Huh. Didn't know you could be that way."}
                        
                    #"You, on the other hand, still suck."
                        He casually flips you off.
                        
                    #"It was nothing."
                        "No, it wasn't."
                        
                    #"Thanks. For sharing."
                        "…Yeah."
                        
                    #Nod.
                        *if (expressive > 60)
                            "Now ${mc_he} @{mc_singular get|gets} all quiet."
               
                        *else
                            "Tough nut to crack, huh?"
             
                The pair of you sit there companionably for a time, until the sound of scuffing footsteps fills the air.
                *goto kayarrives
                               
            
    
*else
    "What can I do?" you ask.
    
    "Mm…" Teddie stops. "Keep an eye out. Stuff that won't crumple or move. And there's a couple that—" He hesitates for a long moment, looking away. "There's a couple where it'd be easier if you rammed me into something. Hard to get enough force by myself."
    
    It seems like you'll have to seriously knock him around. Maybe 'help me break my own bones' should have been a clue, but still…
    
    Perhaps Teddie detects something from you, because he halts again. "If you're worried about me, don't. I can take it."
    *choice
        #"I wasn't."
            He snorts. "Alright."
            
        #"If you say so."
            "Just did," he retorts, a modicum less snappish than his norm.
            
        #"Kay should watch out, I'm coming for the bone throne."
            *set expressive %+ 10
            *set rel_teddie %+ 7
            "The bone—" Teddie pinches his nose and turns one eighty degrees, bowing his head. With his back to you, all you can see is his shoulders shaking.
            
            Wait. Is he trying not to laugh?
            
            If so, you got him good, because it's a good ten seconds before he turns back, cheeks pink. "Sure, let's go with that," he says, voice strained.
            
        #Shrug.
            *set expressive %- 5
            *set rel_teddie +3
            Teddie grunts. Such a connection you have.
                     
    Well, those bones aren't going to break themselves.

    *page_break Lend a hand.
    You try not to tense as you set yourself, bracing a piece of machinery so rusted over you can't tell what it originally was. Teddie stands on the opposite side, takes a deep breath, then drives his elbow down. There's a deadwood-like crack as the protruding spur snaps off, leaving just a couple of inches poking through the skin. Teddie grunts, stepping back while opening and closing the joint.

    @{(expressive > 45) "You okay?" you ask.|You catch his eye, tilting your head in question.}

    "It's fine," he rasps, massaging his elbow. "Used to this."

    You nod. Honestly, you're not sure you did much to help. The hunk of metal is anchored sturdily, and didn't budge with the impact.

    "Not as bad as it looks anyway," he continues. "If I concentrate on them, I can make it a little easier. Weaken them." He frowns a moment. "Dunno what I'd do if it took the same force as a regular break." He extends his elbow all the way, then heaves a long exhalation. "Alright. Next one."

    That's how it goes for the next while. You and Teddie searching for the right spots, getting into position, then Teddie violently ramming part of his body into the obstacle. The simple ones snap off immediately. The difficult ones take two or three attempts. The worst…

    *gosub badbreak

    *page_break
    Teddie limps back up to a pillar. He closes his eyes, draws a breath, and then reopens them again, miming slamming his messed-up shin into the pillar.

    "Hey," you say quietly. He pauses, looks over his shoulder. "Let me."

    He regards you. At length, he nods.

    *if (overjuiced)
        Alright. You were going to have to check in on your powers sooner or later. Looks like it's sooner.

        Reaching within, you cautiously probe that well, allowing your tendrils to extend the first couple of inches from your shoulders. There's no surge of manic energy, not a shred of that feral hunger. Encouraged but not entirely convinced, you tease the tendrils out a little further.

        Still nothing. You exhale slowly. It seems that for now, you can trust yourself. 


    @{overjuiced Pushing the tendrils out to their full size,| Letting your tendrils unfurl,} you move over to Teddie. @{overjuiced He looks apprehensive, and you're not sure you can blame him.|He remains silent, eyes following the undulations of your tendrils.} It takes a moment to determine the best positioning as you move back and forth, gauging what angles you'll be able to get. Once you've picked your spot—entailing an awkward crouch with your tendrils pushed over your shoulders—you reach the tendrils out for Teddie's damaged shin. As their tips brush against the bone, Teddie goes rigid. You stop, looking up.

    "This okay?"

    "Fine," Teddie answers, his voice tight. "If you're going to do it, then do it."

    You nod and refocus, carefully situating your tendrils on either side of the protruding bone. The alternative is trying to force the rupture apart and uh, yeah, you're not doing that. You test your grip, flexing the tendrils; it feels like you have them well-anchored.

    They'll need to be.

    @{runningonfumes You've recouped a little strength from resting, and you bring it all to bear,|Mustering your strength, you bring it to bear,} compressing and twisting the bone simultaneously. Teddie grunts as you pull his leg forward, then, jaw clenched, plants his foot. You exert even more pressure, sweat trickling down your brow. The bone creaks, shifts, then gives way with a crunch, the entire ruptured growth ripping clear in one. You lurch backwards, still pinching the chunk between your tendrils.

    "Fuck me!" Teddie drops heavily, clutching his leg. You take a step towards him, but he waves you off. "No, no. I'm alright. Was always gonna hurt." Grimacing, he stretches his leg in front of him, eyeing it critically. "Damn. You actually got it out in one piece."

    "Is that… good?" you venture, spiked adrenaline slowly subsiding.

    Shockingly, he smiles. "Very. Gonna heal faster and suck less while doing it. I almost never get 'em out that clean." He braces on the floor a moment, then pushes himself back up to his feet. He shakes out his battered limb a few times, then turns to you. "Up for some more? Think we're onto something."

    *choice
        #"I hurt you, though."
            Teddie shrugs. "Like I said, was gonna hurt anyway." He pauses, taking in your concern. "Not just saying that to spare your feelings. If the help sucked, I'd tell you it sucked and take care of the rest by myself. Not about to put myself through even more pain to make you feel better."

            Blunt as he's being, there's nothing hostile in his tone, and he has a point; when has he ever made nice for the sake of making nice?

            Hesitantly, you nod. "I'll do what I can."

        #"Alright, you know yourself best."
            He nods firmly. "Let's keep going."

        #Nod and get on with it.
            He has a far better understanding of this than you. If he thinks your help is beneficial, it's pointless to second-guess him.


    The two of you get into position for another assist. The next bone sticks out from below his ribcage, like the bottommost rib decided to strike out on its own to start an exciting new life. A solo effort to break it would be tricky; Teddie would have to run headlong into an obstacle, and the angle is so awkward that he'd likely just end up ramming the bone into his own abdomen. You certainly doubt that it would break.

    With your help, though…

    It's simple to slip your tendrils into the narrow space between the bone and Teddie's body, and with a testing little tug, you know that it will be simpler still to snap the growth free. Less simple is @{interest_teddie the rush of warmth to your face at feeling Teddie's skin flush against your tendrils. Hopefully, he doesn't realise just how much of this sensation makes it back to you. Although, the expression on Teddie's face is almost a little too blank, almost as if...|how strange it feels to have your tendrils brushing against another person's skin. The last time you did this was—} 

    @{interest_teddie Okay. Let's step all the way back from that, $!{forename}. You're supposed to be helping him here.|[i]"Explain the tactile sensation. Leave nothing out."[/i]}

    @{interest_teddie "...you doing this or what?" Teddie's face remains very still.|You flinch out of the memory. Always waiting in ambush.}

    @{interest_teddie "I—sure. Ready?" You Teddie's example and school your everything.|"Gonna have to pull a little harder than that," says Teddie, misinterpreting the movement.} 

    @{interest_teddie "Mmhm."|"Just testing the angle." }

    With that, you set yourself and pull again, tendrils straining with effort. Teddie makes a noise of discomfort, but then the bone is giving way, snapping close to the base and leaving only a small spike of bone poking through his shirt.

    Teddie's breath hisses through gritted teeth. "Not bad."

    "This one wasn't as good," you point out, mildly disappointed. Appears you're not a bone savant.

    "It's fine. Still pretty clean." He pauses, looking furtive and almost guilty. "That one would have hurt like shit if Kay did it. Not that she's not good—she's great—just that one in particular. Don't think you've caught up to her."

    As always, Teddie has to leap to defend Kay's honour, even from himself.

    He casts about for a different subject, alighting on the broken bone you're holding. "Hey. Squeeze that."

    @{(expressive > 55) "Okay…?" You go ahead and tighten|You raise an eyebrow, but comply, tightening} your hold. At first, there's no effect, but then the bone is suddenly crumbling to pieces, leaving behind a chalky residue.

    *choice
        #Huh. My tendrils look kind of cool in white.
            You turn them this way and that. The tendrils are more streaked than they are coated, but it gives your imagination something to work with.

            Briefly, you envision the entire ensemble, membrane and all, in uniform white. Now, would that look more creepy, or less? You suspect that a faceless, tentacled supervillain would terrorise, no matter what.

            @{speciality You contemplate the prospect of a white node, and shudder. Definitely creepier.|Especially when they're liable to burst into monstrous growth without warning.|Maybe your plating would come across a bit less sinister in a brighter colour, but on the other hand, black is natural for the carapace's insectoid appearance. White would look completely alien, like you'd walked straight out a lab—hah...|DUMMY} 

        #I guess that explains how Teddie avoids leaving a bone trail wherever he goes.
            A useful way to dispose of the evidence. You're not up on your reading so far as superhero forensics are concerned, but the fewer leads the Hounds have on you, the better.

            "Handy trick," you say.

            Teddie nods.

            "They always break down this quickly?"

        #Ugh! I wriggle my tendrils to get the dust off of them.
            It takes a little bit of doing. Thankfully the substance doesn't cling too badly.

            "Didn't expect you to fuss about mess," says Teddie.

            @{(instinctive > 55) "Would you want dirt all over your hands?" you snap. "Because that's how it feels."|"I have sensation in my tendrils, you know. This feels like having dirt all over my hands."}

            "Mm. Right." If you squint, he looks contrite.

            You give him an unimpressed look.


    "Bones barely last a minute once they're off me. Leave 'em for a bit and they'll just crumble on their own." Teddie nudges an errant shard with his foot, and it disintegrates. "If I concentrate and they're close I can hold 'em together a little longer, but it tires me out and it's kind of pointless."

    Interesting to hear. @{(expressive > 60) You won't lie: a part of you was picturing some kind of bone room in his apartment.|Besides everything else, Teddie having to deal with the leftovers would be yet another wrinkle to an arduous process. Small mercies.}

    As you resume helping Teddie out with more breakages, his talkative mood persists. You don't think you'll get a better chance to ask about his powers, provided you stick to the less sensitive topics.

    *goto teddiebonesmenu
            

*label badbreak
"Fuck!" Teddie spits, hopping on one leg. The twisted spine pushing out from his shin has split down the middle, creating a nasty fork running almost the full length of the growth. He tries to put his foot down, but immediately buckles, falling heavily against a conveyor belt. Vaulting it, you move over to him, maintaining a respectable distance.

"For fuck's sake," he mutters, struggling to push himself upright. "Stupid. Fucking—stupid." His face is red with embarrassment and anger.

*choice
    #"Hey, slow down a second."
        "Fuck off."
        
        *label reflexiveresponse
        It feels more like a reflexive response than genuine hostility. You attempt not to take it personally.
        
    #"Can I do anything?"
        "Fuck you. No."
        
        *goto reflexiveresponse
    #Don't speak. It wouldn't be welcome.
        He's upset, and you're pretty sure this happening in front of you is part of that. You don't need to rub it in.

    #Don't speak. I'd make it worse.
        Every comment filtering through your mind is accompanied by a klaxon blaring WRONG. You don't want to upset him even more.

    #Don't speak. I don't know what to say.
        What are you going to tell him? 'Oh gee, that looks like it hurts'? Yeah. Obviously.
   
Teddie stops trying to stand, instead twisting around and sitting heavily on the conveyor. He tries again to set his foot on the ground, only to instantly raise it back up with a hiss of pain. "Fuck's sake," he repeats. There's wetness in his piercing green eyes, and you quickly look away before he can notice you noticing.

You sit next to him and wait. Either he'll open up on his own terms, or you'll have to move awkwardly past this moment. 

A few minutes tick by side by side, the only sound Teddie's short sharp breaths. You keep your attention trained carefully off in the distance.

Then, Teddie speaks, voice heavy with exhaustion. "It always fucking hurts. Doesn't matter if they're long or short. Doesn't matter if you can even see them. Still feel them under the surface." You steal a glance at him. His hands are on his thighs, his glassy stare fixed on the floor a few feet ahead of him. "Sometimes, they shift around for weeks before they poke through. I just…" He punches his thigh, zero power behind it. "Why don't my powers fucking [i]work?[/i] Dion doesn't have to fucking, rip his shit out of his fucking body. Mallory can just change back to normal whenever they fucking feel like it. Even Kay—" He hitches, shutting his eyes a second and shaking his head. "Even Kay's charge just… goes away after a bit if she doesn't use it. What'd I fucking do to get this?" Both fists clench, knuckles protruding through the skin, and he laughs bitterly. "Probably just fucked it up day one. Usually how shit goes for me. Too fucking stupid" —he slams a hand into the conveyor—"to get it right."

*choice
    #"Sorry."
        It feels almost pathetic against the pain pouring from him, but sometimes, there's nothing else to say.
        
        He breathes out a sound with a passing resemblance to a laugh. "Yeah."
        
    #"Comes with the territory. Shit happens."
        "Suck it up, huh?" He makes a sound you struggle to describe as a laugh. "Sounds about right."
        
        "You got unlucky, man," you say. "It's arbitrary and unfair, but that's exactly why it's dumb to treat this like a personal failing." A bitter note slips into your voice. Arbitrary and unfair. Sounds familiar.
        
        "…don't hold back, do you?" Teddie mutters. "Least I know you're saying what you really think."
        
        "Don't like it, don't vent at me."
        
        He snorts. "Sorry for being fucking worn down, $!{aka2}." He doesn't even have the energy to raise his voice. "Only so much I can push through."
        
        …continuing along these lines would be piling on for the sake of piling on. You're pretty sure that he's already told himself all of what you said. 
        
    #"Don't blame yourself for something you can't control."
        "Doesn't matter who I blame," he answers, still staring at the floor. "Not gonna change anything."
        
        "My point is that it isn't some kind of personal failing."
        
        He blinks slowly and silently. Did he even register what you said?
        
        "I dunno. Guess it just fucking sucks to think there's no reason. Rather have somewhere to put all that."
        
        There's nothing argumentative in his voice, only resignation. He's probably heard this before, you realise. Maybe, likely even agrees with it. Doesn't mean it does anything for him. One conversation won't talk away his problems or his pain.
        
    #"Self-deprecation doesn't suit you."
        He grunts. "Yeah. Kinda throwing a pity party, huh?"
        
        "Venting's natural," you say. "But you know full well that stuff isn't true."
        
        "Sorry for being fucking worn down, $!{aka2}." He doesn't even have the energy to raise his voice. "Not like it stops hurting when I think happy thoughts."
        
        You can't counter that. A positive attitude never did anything for you in captivity, and any flickers of optimism died out early.
        
    #Let him vent.
        *set lethimvent true
        He's pouring out his pain. That's not a conversation.
        
        But you can still be here. You can still listen.
        
    #"Hey, mine suck too."
        *if (overjuiced)
            He blinks slowly. "…Guess it was pretty bad, earlier," he concedes. @{collapsezone "And you had that thing when you collapsed. Needed a suppressant or whatever."|}
            
            'Pretty bad' is certainly one way to put it. Proves that you aren't just whining, at least.
            
        *elseif (collapsezone)
            He blinks slowly. "…Guess that shit did look bad the other day when you collapsed. Mal had to use that suppressant or whatever." 
            
            You manage, more or less, not to grimace at the reminder. Reinforces your point though, doesn't it?
            
        *else
            He starts to scowl, and then it just… collapses. He looks utterly drained. "If you're trying to say you get it. Don't. Just… don't."
            
            You chew the inside of your cheek. You could elaborate, but is that really a risk you're willing to take? There's no gain.
            *goto tellteddiemorechoice
             
    *selectable_if (feature > 2) #Silently, I @{(feature = 3) tug the neckline of my top aside, exposing the thick black lines across my shoulders.|lift up my top, exposing the harsh lines of the stomach maw.}
        *set defiance +1
        *set rel_teddie %+ 15
        The very corner of Teddie's eye flicks to you, drawn by the movement. Then, his head snaps around, eyes widening slightly. "What… is that?"
        
        "Powers," you say. There's a strange ringing in your ears. You can feel your heart beating. Thudding.
        
        His eyes linger. He starts reaching for you as if to touch the markings, then stops. "Shit. You too, huh?"
        
        Thud, thud, thud. You nod, barely.
        
        He laughs sardonically. "Good company."
        
        "My powers…" Your voice is dull, tongue leaden. "They changed me. Inside and out. Maybe @{(feature = 3) those lines run the whole way through."|I'm just a walking mouth."}
        
        *if ((feature = 4) and (overjuiced))
            You certainly acted like one.
            
        *else
          @{(feature = 3) They might.|Could be.} Perhaps Hypothesis will cut you open one of these days to check.  
        
        *goto continuestolook
        
Strange to think that you have common ground with Teddie. Each of your powers hurt you, and even if his obviously lack the whole 'feed them constantly so they don't start eating you alive' clause, they're still debilitating.

@{lethimvent There is, you suppose, a way to make this more two-sided. To do more than just lend and ear; you|You} could reach out to him, for the low price of secrecy. Anything you tell him is far more than you should say, and there's no gain.
*label tellteddiemorechoice
*choice
    #It's pretty clear he doesn't want commiserations.
        This is something he has to live with every day. How's it going to help, knowing that you have some sort of overlap with him? He's not asking to be comforted, you just happen to be here to see a crack in his armour.
        
        Besides, your powers are a science experiment. That's a pretty fundamental difference, and it renders any consolation kind of… false.
        
        The genuine best you can do for him is to not make a big deal of this, and not foist him with coddling that he doesn't want.
        
        You stay quiet, and soon enough, he continues.
        *goto teddietalkingsilent
        
    #I shouldn't compromise myself for no good reason.
        *set defiance -1
        Lest you forget, you have a cover to maintain.
        
        This is a temporary collaboration. Teddie factors into your objectives only insofar as he's part of the same team.
        
        Would spilling dangerous intel into his lap get you any closer to solving the mysteries behind Architect and Wyrd? Of course not. You shouldn't even be considering it.
        
        You aren't on Teddie's side. You aren't his friend.
        
        *goto anychanceit
    #...helping him feel less alone is a gain.
        *set defiance +1
        *set hate +1
        *set rel_teddie %+ 15
        So much of you has been stolen away or beaten into submission. You're not voluntarily throwing empathy onto the pyre.
        
        *label thrustwrist
        You thrust your wrist forward, upturned. Wordlessly, you reach for what lurks below, and will it outward.
        
        Your skin blackens, then is subsumed, membrane pushing through down the length of your forearm, stark as a chemical burn.
        
        "I know it isn't the same," you begin quietly. "But I know how it feels to have something you don't want living in your skin."
        
        He stares at your arm for a long time. @{(teddietalkpowers =1) "...said something a little different last time you brought this up."|"...say that like you've got some kinda creature in there."}
        
        You exhale shakily. @{tiredofsecrets Coven antipathy notwithstanding, this is a huge line you're crossing.|Here it comes.} @{(teddietalkpowers = 1) "I was simplifying a bit before. It's part of me, but also... not."|"Can't say that's completely inaccurate,"}
        
        *if (speciality = 1)
            "Your little… meat spiders?"
            
            @{(expressive > 60) You burst out laughing.|You smile faintly.} "Haven't heard that one before." You shake your head. "Those are a whole other thing."
            
            Teddie inclines his head.
            
        *else
            Teddie regards you, silent.
            
        "My powers…" You trail off. Your mouth is dry, an immovable lump in your throat. "They changed my body on the inside. I don't honestly know what it's like in there. Maybe it's this stuff all the way down."
        
        You hear the fear in your own voice. You've never expressed that anxiety aloud before. Didn't entirely know it was there until you spoke it.
        
        *label continuestolook
        Teddie continues to look at you. There's something penetrating in his eyes, like he's seeing you for the first time. Eventually, he exhales, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "Skin and bones." He shakes his head. "What a shit pair."
        
        *choice
            #"We sure are."
                *label slightsmilesouth
                He smiles, slightly. You smile back, slightly.
                
                Weird. Atmosphere's not as miserable as it feels it should be.
                
                *label amomentago
                Maybe sharing wasn't just for Teddie.
                
                *label finishupbonding
                *set teddietalkpowers 2
                Teddie sighs again, pressing his thumb against a bony ridge protruding from his head. "I guess for me, sometimes all this pisses me off, but I think mostly I'm just… tired." He chuckles mirthlessly. "Still rather live with this than how it used to be."
                
                You glance at him. You've ventured into the cave, now you sense ahead of you a yawning cavern, ancient and jagged. Before you can contemplate heading deeper, explore what he means by that, Teddie shakes his head.
                
                "Think I've traumadumped enough for one day. Gotta get this shit done sooner or later." He stands up, the barest hint of a grimace crossing his face as he puts weight back onto the bad leg. He looks at you carefully. "…helps not to pretend for a little bit. Helps knowing there's someone else, too." His expression is [i]almost[/i] soft. "…thanks."
                
                *return
            #Nod decisively.
                *goto slightsmilesouth
            #Shrug. I hope he doesn't think I'm making it about me...
                Teddie's always been difficult to get a read on. He doesn't seem bothered. A little less dour, even.
                
                So, maybe you did something worthwhile. And the atmosphere isn't quite so… heavy as a moment ago.
                
                *goto amomentago
            *if ((compatible_teddie) and (aro != 4))
                *if ((t_teddie = false) and (patchup = 4))
                    #I'm not flustered that he called us a pair. Shut up, shut up. I'm not! @{ftone [Flirt, passive and tsundere]|}
                        *set interest_teddie true
                        *set flirt_teddie +1
                        *set t_teddie true
                        He didn't even mean it like that! And—and regardless, you've [i]maybe[/i] talked yourself into tolerating him, but that doesn't mean you like him!
                        
                        Why'd he have to phrase things in that way? This is his fault.
                        
                        *label lookonyourface
                        "What's with that look?" Teddie says, scowling.
                        
                        "What look? I don't have a look," you snap. Too defensive. Dammit.
                        
                        "…Sure."
                        
                        Despite… whatever that was slash absolutely wasn't, the atmosphere isn't quite so… heavy as a moment ago.
                        
                        *goto finishupbonding
                        
                *else
                    #@{t_teddie How dare he call us a pair!? I'm definitely not flustered by it!|I'm sure Teddie didn't mean that to come off in the way it sounds, but...} @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                        *set interest_teddie true
                        *set flirt_teddie +1
                        *set t_teddie true
                        @{t_teddie It's just like Teddie to phrase things in such an infuriating way. Ugh.|Despite the bleak atmosphere, a faint smile tugs at your lips. You can't help it.}
                        
                        *if (t_teddie)
                            *goto lookonyourface
                        
                        *else
                            "What're you smirking about?" Teddie says.
                            
                            @{(expressive > 55) "Damn, didn't realise you were the smile police,"|"Can't I smile?"} you complain half-heartedly.
                            
                            "You've just got a… look, that's all," Teddie mutters, breaking eye contact.
                            
                            Agh. You try to get your face to stop doing whatever it is it's doing. Stop being weird, $!{forename}, that's the last thing Teddie wants right now.
                            
                            Even though he doesn't seem bothered. More like… mildly taken aback.
                            
                            Ugh. Enough.
                            
                            *goto finishupbonding
                                            
            #"Was... that a pun?"
                Teddie blinks, frowns, then groans. "Not intentionally."
                
                @{(expressive > 45) "Hm, alright, but I'm watching you."|"So you say."}
                
                He snorts. @{(expressive > 45) "Go for it."|"I do say."}
                
                You're both smiling the smallest bit. For a moment, you feel lighter.
                
                *goto amomentago

    *selectable_if ((defiance > 8) and (punishjank = false)) #I'm so, [i]so[/i] tired of keeping Hypothesis's fucking secrets.
        *set defiance +1
        *set tiredofsecrets true
        *set rel_teddie %+ 15
        He doesn't own you, and the only thing you owe him is payback for a half decade of torture.
        
        @{coven_history Instinctive panic wells up, but for once, the fear of punishment has no hold over you.|Obedience was always a matter of survival. There's nobody here to threaten it.|Toeing the line. Playing the game. You can spare a card from your hand, just this once.}
        
        *goto thrustwrist
    *selectable_if (punishjank) #I-I want to say something, but they'll hurt me again, but I want—
        *set rel_teddie %+ 8
        Fear pulses through your veins, freezing you over.
        
        You want to reach out, you wish desperately to reach out, but each time you so much as think of opening your mouth, the memory Hypothesis sentencing you in front of everyone drives a wedge through your thoughts.
        
        @{(punish = 4) Kick after kick, name after name.|Catalyst's fist flying at you, hatred contorting his face.}
        
        "S…sorry," you croak. "I… know, a little, about this stuff."
        
        That's all you can manage. Your throat closes up.
        
        Teddie looks at you for a long time, expression as inscrutable as ever. "Think you actually mean that," he says at last, sounding mildly surprised. "People are usually full of it."
        
        A little splash of guilt to top off the cocktail of dread. You don't deserve to commiserate, not when you're lying to him.
        
        Mercifully, it doesn't seem he's expecting you to respond, and he continues.
        
        *goto teddietalkingsilent
    *selectable_if (punishjank) #The latest beating flashes through my mind. I... I can't tell him.
        *set defiance -1
        @{(punish = 4) Kick after kick, name after name.|Catalyst's fist flying at you, hatred contorting his face.} You'd court that fate again?
        
        You let freedom go to your head. @{coven_history The price of resistance is pain. It was beaten into you. Defying them—him—regardless gets into wilful self-delusion.|You forgot yourself and the rules for survival, and were duly reminded of your place.|You indulged when you should have been keeping a low profile, building up credibility. You—it just wouldn't be smart to overstep.}
        
        *label anychanceit
        Any chance this gets back to the Coven is too great to risk.
        
        So instead, you remain silent and let Teddie keep going.

*label teddietalkingsilent
"Sometimes it pisses me off, but I think mostly I'm just… tired." He chuckles, mirthless. Dead-eyed. "Guess I'd rather live with this than how it used to be."

You sense a yawning cave ahead of you, ancient and jagged. Before you can contemplate venturing inside, explore what he means by that, Teddie shakes his head.

"Time's wasting. Have to get this shit done sooner or later." He stands up, the barest hint of a grimace crossing his face as he puts weight back onto the bad leg. He pauses, looking straight ahead. "…helps not to pretend for a little bit." Finally, he glances at you, expression not soft, but not so hard as you're used to. "…thanks."

*return

*label angyteddie
*set permabad_teddie true

*label nohelpforteddie

Intermittently, you hear grunting, crunching, and deadwood-like snapping sounds as Teddie does what he needs to do.

At length, he returns. Several growths are now truncated, the majority ending with wickedly jacket edges. He looks exhausted, almost ill. He doesn't look in your direction as he slumps against a pillar, head tipped all the way back.

The pair of you sit in an awkward silence until a set of scuffing footsteps sound through the air.

*page_break
*label kayarrives

A familiar horned head appears through a gap in the factory wall. Kay's face crumples with relief, and she dashes over. She's dishevelled, absolutely plastered in sweat, but doesn't appear to be injured. She stops beside you, doubling over with her hands on her knees, gulping air. Then, she straightens.

@{(rel_kay > 40) "Teddie! $!{aka}! You're alright!"|"Teddie! You're alright! And $!{aka}!"}

Teddie opens his eyes with a groan. A smile still finds its way onto his face. "So are you."

"Yeah, barely. How'd it go?"

@{rocketescaped "Didn't get her,"|"We got her,"} answers Teddie.

@{rocketescaped "Damn! Seriously?" Kay kicks the ground. "Ugh. If I was there…"|"Phew. I was worried."} She glances between you both. "Getting along?"

*if (permabad_teddie)
    Teddie's face twists into a sneer. Kay looks pained.
    
    "…alright," she mumbles.
    
*elseif (bones_teddie < 3)
    Teddie grunts. What a ringing endorsement.

*else
    Teddie glances at you thoughtfully.
    *choice
        #"Killing each other, honestly."
            Teddie snorts.
            
            *goto kayscrutiny
        #"We're fine."
            "Oh! I'm glad."
            
        #Shrug.
            Teddie shrugs too. There's a very slight smile on his face.
            
            *label kayscrutiny
            "Hmm…" Kay scrutinises you both. "Well, alright."

The three of you settle in. Soon enough, phones beep.

Another rendezvous, another location. Time to see what @{rocketescaped Architect and Wyrd could dig up.|Rocket has to say for herself.}

*page_break
*goto endofcurrent

*label bigjuicerocket
*if (enhanced1)
    Your heart thumps faster as you tap into the wellspring of power at your centre. The enhanced Juice strains, like a chained dog pulling at its leash, and you grapple with the urge to let loose, breaths tight and shallow. Holding back at the final hurdle, now that's foolish, but danger is tingling at the back of your skull. Losing control would be just as bad as—worse than—pulling punches for no reason.

    After seconds stretching eternities, the immediate pressure subsides, though the longing to [i]let go[/i] itches behind your eyes. The things you could accomplish, with just a little less restraint…

    You steel your will, holding tight to control. Concentrate, and fight. Concentrate, and fight. You're already leaning hard towards the Juice; you don't need to dive into it. 

*else
    To this point, you've rarely leaned so heavily on raw, Juice-fuelled power. You only have so much stamina and it isn't as if Hypothesis is showering you with vials. In any other circumstance, this would be foolish, blowing through your reserves and leaving you empty for the rest of the battle or the getaway.

    But the mission hinges on Rocket. Lose her, and it's a bust. If ever there's a time to hit the afterburners, it's now.

    You look inward, and tap into the wellspring at your centre.


Fresh strength flows to your limbs, reinvigorating you. @{fighting_style Your fists clench tight, every breath coming deeper and easier as you surge with vitality.|Alertness buzzes through you, every inch of you alive to sensation, eyes moving and vigilant. Even your thoughts seem to accelerate, heightening your focus.|A ripple runs across your membrane, as if shivering in anticipation.|DUMMY}


*if (fighting_style = 1)
    You rush into action with blazing speed, @{(rocketprogress2 = 1) catching up to Rocket|up in Rocket's personal space} before she can so much as spit an expletive. Your fists fly in blurring flurries, and it's a testament to Rocket's skill that she comes anywhere close to keeping up with you, blocking what she can of the relentless assault. The Juice pumps in your veins, supercharging your reactions, the force of your punches. @{enhanced1 All the while, you grip the reins, ensuring you don't go careening over the clifftop.|The only fetters are those that you clasp upon yourself.}

    *if (juicingup > 0)
        It's not so utterly effortless as before, when you gave the wilful thrum within your body its head and let yourself be swept along in its wake. Actually, it's pretty damn effort[i]ful[/i] to wield something so potent, so carefully. Even still, satisfaction hums through you; this power wants to be used.

    *else
        How satisfying, to wield, as opposed to being subject.

    You circle one another. Clash, separate, circle again. With every exchange you land a couple of hits and make them stick, while Rocket can't muster much offence in reply, lest you shatter her defences entirely. From the darting of her eyes, you can tell that she's seeking an escape route, but you refuse to allow it, constantly manoeuvring to prevent any kind of retreat. @{indoorfight Perhaps Architect is assisting; you're too in the zone to check.|}

    A harsh knee to the gut doubles Rocket over. You attempt to clasp your hands around the back of her head, aiming to turn out the lights with a clinch knee, and she twists aside, staggering. For a moment your eyes meet, and in hers, something shifts, turning calculated.

    When next you engage, out thrusts her hand. Juice-empowered reflex has you moving faster than you can think, snapping your body to the side in the barest instant before the shot tears through your stomach. Rocket presses the attack while you're off-balance, and you stumble, trying to sort out your footwork whilst also blocking elbows to the face and kicks at just about anywhere vulnerable. Not technique. Street fighting. She's realised that escape lies in stepping over you.

    Block, block, parry. You defend, calming the frantic urge to go nuclear. @{(instinctive > 55) Patience, even if it's not usually your way.|Patience.} Remember how you were taught.

    And it doesn't hurt that the Juice pulsing through your limbs hasn't gone anywhere.

    Rocket steps in, reversing an elbow to crush viciously into your throat.

    Except not, as you surge into motion, taking the blow on your forearm. Rocket tries to follow up, keep her advantage, and you sideswipe her with a low kick, knocking her legs out from under her entirely. She's scrambling on the floor, bringing up both legs to ward you off as you try to pile on—switch tack, step around, plough your foot into her exposed side. The Juice lends lightning to every movement, and like lightning, you strike. You let her seize an inch, you're taking back a mile. Hammering Rocket with blow after blow, you come plunging down with a forearm to the head, knocking her senseless.


*elseif (fighting_style = 2)
    You launch from the starting blocks, @{(rocketprogress2 = 1) catching up to Rocket|up in Rocket's personal space} before she can so much as spit an expletive. Your fists fly in blurring flurries, an opening salvo to test her defences. Strong; she blocks ably, keeping her feet active and head mobile. Even still, you're moving so fast that a few strikes slip through, driving Rocket back. You don't allow her to gain any space, advancing upon the ground she cedes, mind creating and discarding strategies moment by moment.

    Rocket makes the barest beginnings of a motion, and you attend, assess, act all in the same breath. You grab her bandolier and pull, meeting her with a headbutt on the way in. @{indoorfight Your other hand grasps her wrist and twists to the side, forcing her to drop the debris she's scrounged up.|Your other arm slides around her back, finds the clasp, and unbuckles.} Then, you exploit the close quarters to shift your weight and throw her to the ground, @{indoorfight knocking her back with a swift boot.|tearing the bandolier free in the same action. You promptly cast it over the wall, divesting Rocket of ammunition.}

    Disarm and harm all at once. You're on fire.

    *if (juicingup > 0)
        It's not so utterly effortless as before, when you gave the wilful thrum within your body its head and let yourself be swept along in its wake. Actually, it's pretty damn effort[i]ful[/i] to wield something so potent, so carefully. Even still, satisfaction hums through you; this power wants to be used.
        
    *else
        How satisfying, to wield, as opposed to being subject.


    *if (indoorfight)
        "Fuck's sake," Rocket mutters, clambering to her feet. "Can you fuck off back to whatever freak show he found you?" she jabs a thumb at Architect.
        
        @{(expressive > 55) "Skill issue."|You raise a silent eyebrow, then remember she can't see that. Doesn't matter. All bark, no bite.}
        
        @{(expressive > 55) She laughs. "Cocky little shit."|She frowns. "God. Creepy little fuck ain'tcha?"}
        
        @{(expressive > 55) You spread your arms. "You know it."|Rude. True, but rude.}
        
    *else
        "Fuck's sake," Rocket mutters, clambering to her feet. "Gonna have to go get that now. Dick."

        @{(expressive > 55) "Bold of you to assume you'll have the chance." Talk is good.|You raise an eyebrow, then remember she can't see that. Oh well. Her stopping to talk is good.} Talk means slowing down, more chance of Architect or someone else catching up. You stay watchful in any case, anticipating some trick up her sleeve.

        @{(expressive > 55) She grins broadly. "Bold of you to assume you've got me in a corner, rookie."|She frowns. "God. Creepy little fuck ain'tcha?"}

        @{(expressive > 55) You wish you could smirk back. "Don't I?"|Rude. True, but rude.}

    Then, like a gunslinger drawing at dawn, it happens. Rocket goes inside her jacket as you spring into motion, distance halfway closed before her hand clears leather, steel gleaming in her grasp. Thoughts are two, [i]three[/i] steps ahead of action; charging straight at her will meet the blade coming the other way won't reach her in time can't hit the deck she'll take advantage—

    [i]Crack.[/i] The knife launches from Rocket's hand in slow motion. Your tendrils unfurl across your shoulders, crossguarding, the knife sailing through the air, tearing through the first in a spray of ichor, impaling the second deep. A rush of pain to push past as you remain unerringly on course. You bowl into Rocket, tackling her to the ground. She gets her knees underneath you, tries to kick you off overhead, but you move with it, maintain grip, flip over again to end up back on top. Black not-quite-blood spurts from your tendrils as you rise up in your straddled position and begin hitting her, raining punch after punch into her face until she's laid out senseless.

*else
    Well, you'd hate to disappoint.

    You curl in on yourself, sucking a long breath [i]in…[/i]

    [i]Out.[/i]

    And with it, your arms [i]burst[/i] at the elbows, splitting into undulating clusters a match to your tendrils. Alien sensations overwhelm your mind and you reel, head swimming—what did you just [i]do?[/i] You force down bile, try to concentrate, then give up and just go barrelling forward, arm-tendrils thrashing like a threshing @{(mask = "Thresh") machine—a pun you're a little too preoccupied to appreciate—|machine} and about as vicious. 

    "Excuse me the FUCK!?" Rocket's shout peaks shrilly as she @{indoorfight scrabbles at the floor, scooping up a shard of glass.|scrabbles at her bandolier, extracting another golf ball.} She blasts it at you with a crack, but the wild flailing simply swats the shot from the air with barely a sting.

    *if (juicingup > 0)
        It's not so utterly effortless as before, when you gave the wilful thrum within your body its head and let yourself be swept along in its wake. Actually, it's pretty damn effort[i]ful[/i] trying to keep your twisting new additions under some semblance of control, especially when you're rapidly spiralling towards a panic attack. [i]You don't have hands.[/i]

    *else
        There's perhaps a note of satisfaction somewhere in your mind to wield your powers such, but it's doing battle with an onrushing panic attack. [i]You don't have hands.[/i]


    You're freaking out almost as much as Rocket as you close the distance, and you do what you can to keep yourself steady, to remind yourself that you're still in command. You're wielding these powers, not the reverse. You chant those mantras in your head while the arm-tendrils lash and swipe, battering Rocket this way and that, breaking apart her defences with overwhelming force. Incredibly, she's still trying to fight back, attempting the odd jab or kick and firing off one more piece of debris, but there's simply no way through the web of tendrils.

    Even so, you've cause to be glad for your efforts to keep your composure, because you see Rocket's hand dipping inside her jacket for what it is, successfully remelding your tendrils into an actual limb—thank fuck—to grab her wrist, preventing her from levelling another knife at you. She strains, struggling to line the weapon up for a shot while you try to keep her in place.  

    Then you bring in your remaining set of arm-tendrils and club her to the ground. Tearing the knife away and tossing it, you will those tendrils back to limbhood and straddle Rocket, unleashing a flurry of punches, striking again and again until she's laid out senseless.


Your blood—or perhaps the Juice within—is up, and your hands twitch with the urge to continue the beating. @{(fighting_style =3) Not only that, with the urge to [i]split[/i] again. Both of your arms ripple, and, gagging, you press at them with every ounce of mental effort you can muster until the sensations subside. |You press it down with a grimace.}        
                                                
*return

*label rocket_talks_shit
Rocket dodges again, narrower this time. "Damn! Down, boy!" She sidesteps another lunge, humming. "Or girl? Can't really tell. @{speciality Like are you those nuggets' mom? Parent? Cannibal would tell me I'm being—whoa!"|Guess you could be all 'my body transcends gender' like Cannibal. Just with monster parts instead of robot—whoa!"|Is beetle a gender? I mean, Cannibal is pretty much cyborg gender so—whoa!"|DUMMY} She jerks backward as you nearly take her head off with a swiping tendril.

You weren't expecting to be needled on this particular topic today.
*choice
    #She's just trying to throw me off my game. Ignore it.
        *set instinctive %- 7
        Lest you forget, you're kind of in the middle of a plan here.
        
        You don't react, and Rocket clicks her tongue. "Boring."
        
    #Lean into my frustration; it'll make this more convincing.
        *set instinctive %+ 7
        "Shut up!" you snarl, lashing at her.
        
        Rocket cackles. "Can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen, newbie!"
        
    #Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.
        *set expressive %+ 5
        The commentary is so roundly stupid and out of place that you almost crack, desperately grinding your teeth to not burst out laughing.
        
        Is this how masks operate? Random quips in the lulls between trying to kill each other? You suppose anyone who chooses this life has to have at least a couple of screws loose. Jury's out on whether you're allowed to exclude yourself from that.
        
    #...I miss Prii.  
        *set contemprii +1
        They always had a gender joke lurking up their sleeve. Heck, you and the others would set them up for it on purpose. @{cis You learned so much from them.|Not to mention how good it felt having somebody else around who understood all of that.}
        
        You can almost imagine the snippy comeback to Rocket's nonsense—you dispel the thought, try as best you can not to think of them. Wrong moment to wax nostalgic.
        
        [i]Don't worry. I'm always here.[/i] 
        
        A glacial finger down your spine.
        
        @{indoorfight You, Rocket, Architect. That's everyone here.|There's nobody else here.} You couldn't have heard them.
        
        But is hearing an echo of the thing that wasn't them better than hallucinating it altogether, or worse?
        
    *selectable_if (cis = false) #Genuinely a bit upset, I start swinging for the fences.
       
        Bad memories of a whole lot of bullshit. This is one kind of mockery you thought was in the past. She's just talking, just bantering, but how many times was it 'just' a joke?
        
        You go for her with real venom, fists and tendrils flying as you lose track of your goal for a moment. She dodges a punch, but not the tendrils, which club into her torso, knocking her back.
        
        *if (instinctive > 60)
            *set lostandretain 3
            The thud of impact vibrating through your tendrils spurs you on. You keep advancing, keep swinging, hell bent on wiping that smug smirk from Rocket's face. Instinct is fully in the driver's seat as you land another hit, then another, another—
            
            Rocket's power goes off with a crack. Something thuds into your gut, followed by piercing pain. You look down to see the hilt sprouting from your abdomen.
            
            She… had another knife?
        
        *else
            *set lostandretain 2
            The thud of impact vibrating through your tendrils grounds you back in the moment. Can't lose your cool, can't get stuck in the past. You live there enough.
            
            Focus up.
            
    *selectable_if (kill_cannibal > 1) #"Yeah, well Cannibal's dead."
        *if (indoorfight)
            *set early_can_mention 3
            
        *else
            *set early_can_mention 2
        Rocket falters, eyes widening. "Wait, you serious—?"
        
        You slam into her, knocking her down. Before she can recuperate, you scoop her into your tendrils and smash her against the closest wall, sending her limp, unconscious.
        
        Wasn't the original plan, but when opportunity knocks…
                
        
*return

*label endofcurrent
That's the end of the current demo! The next update will be smaller and add the possibility of a relationship scene with Teddie after helping with his bones.

This chapter can go in a lot of directions depending on individual choices during the fighting. If you haven't tried it already, I suggest taking the enhanced Juice. You know you want to ;) 

Would you like to rewind to the start of the chapter? You'll be taken to a short set of customisation questions similar to those from the skip feature, and then you can replay this chapter from the beginning.

*choice
    #Pick different choices, and rewind.
        *gosub resetvariables
        
        *gosub_scene scum_rewind
        
        *goto startch11
    #Replay the chapter without changing anything.
        *gosub resetvariables
        
        *goto startch11
    #Take me to the end screen.
        Thanks for playing the demo!
        
        Please let me know what you think on the COG forums, tumblr! (@drinkyourvillainjuice), or using the anonymous feedback form! (https://forms.gle/DKrFNSVxW5uLGgBR9)

        *page_break

        Ending page.

        *ending

*label resetvariables
*set silentstill false
*set cannibalscore 0
*set rocketprogress 0
*set juicingup 0
*set gotviolentcan false
*set advantage false
*set juicedrocket false
*set takingitslow false
*set thebasics false
*set gooped false
*set carapaceuse false
*set blahblahvariable false
*set nocrowdwil false
*set springscore 0
*set wompwomp false
*set goodteamwork false
*set brutalspring false
*set failbypass false
*set failspringfight false
*set coopwyrd false
*set boxing false
*set goalie false
*set fakefall false
*set checkedonwyrd 1
*set rocketstall 0
*set rocketscore 0
*set humbleabode false
*set hurtfeelings true
*set fastflurry false
*set theworldspettiestvariable false
*set owehimone false
*set tiredofsecrets false
*set lethimvent false
*set talkedleavebe false
*set talkedgrowth true
*set rocketprogress2 0
*set outsidejuicerocket false
*set possum 0
*set indoorfight false
*set lostandretain 1

*set runningonfumes false
*set enhanced1 false
*set scum_casualties 1
*set kill_cannibal 1
*set guiltbal false
*set overjuiced false
*set blownup 1
*set canniganked 1
*set noattempt false
*set breakshit 1
*set stoppedbywyrd 1
*set killdoubts false
*set juiced_rocket false
*set checkedonwyrd 1
*set rocketescaped false
*set myteammatesareuseless false
*set pocketsand 1
*set monchthoughts 1
*set bones_teddie 1
*set enhancedvsrocket false
*set enhancedvsspring false
*set enhancedvsinsider false
*set gratuitousviolence false
*set discussrocket_teddie false
*set early_can_mention 1
*set kniferailgun 1
*set hurtingrocket 1
*set attemptconvince 1
*set rocketzonetalk 1
*set shrapnel 1
*set collapsewounds_scum false
*set golfball 1
*set ilivehere false

*set mc_health 1
*set injurydesc 1
*set harmony 0

*return

*label juicing
*if (juicingup = 3)
    *set overjuiced true
    *return
*else
    *return

*label juicecheck
*if juice < 0
    *set juice 0
    *return
*else
    *return