*temp s_strat 1
*temp powerthought 1
*temp savingthrow false
*temp bold false
*temp warninggiven 0
*temp didntsee false
*if (ranaway)
    *set didntsee true
*elseif ((origin < 3) or (origin > 5))
    *set didntsee true
*temp node false
*temp nodes false
*temp tumble false
*temp dive false
*temp srs false
*temp archkay false
*temp catchingfeelings false
*temp badrep false
*temp ditched true
*temp access false
*temp investigations 4
*temp ins false
*temp armour false
*temp mutations false
*temp papersplease false
*temp checkedlog false
*temp heardluke false
*temp battlephase 1
*temp timepass 1
*temp batons 2
*temp agentreact false
*temp fightscore 0
*temp tactic1 10
*temp tactic2 10
*temp tactic3 10
*temp dupetactic 10
*temp slowfight false
*temp lastjuice false
*temp cgstuff false
*temp inarow false
*temp rein false
*temp helpinside 4
*comment 1 teddie 2 kay 3 own
*temp speed 1
*temp quipping false
*temp notbait true
*temp thinkingwil false
*temp soloescape false
*temp helpinside 1
*temp hope false
*temp wyrdstuff 1
*temp hurtbysurpass false
*temp dionstuff 1
*temp malsyringe 1
*temp threevone false
*temp fightscore_s 1
*temp stamina false
*temp solofight false
*temp dionbed false

*if rel_teddie < 1
    *set rel_teddie 1
    
*if ((cg_dislike) and (not (connectcg)))
    *set cgstuff true
    
*if ((origin = 4) or (origin = 5))
    *set ditched false
    
*if (brutal > 3) or (rangerhurt = 3)
    *set badrep true

*if ((interest_wil) or (interest_teddie))
    *set catchingfeelings true
*elseif ((interest_cg) or (interest_wyrd))
    *set catchingfeelings true
*elseif ((interest_alistair) or (interest_kay))
    *set catchingfeelings true
    
*if juice = 100
    Keeping pace something between a power walk and a jog you hustle across town towards the meeting place. The street lights are so bright, the night air, so crisp. Each thump of your foot against asphalt resonates through your body like lightning, skull still abuzz with a throbbing hum.
    
*elseif (vials = 0)
    Doubt stalks you as you make your way across town and towards the agreed meeting place, any excitement swallowed up in an anxious deluge. @{coven_history The instinct to cringe and cower from your transgression is overwhelming. Self-assurances that this time will be different ring hollow. They've been wrong before.|So often you've kept your head down. No longer.|You've spent so long biding your time that concrete action is overwhelming.} @{(inform1 > 4) Between destroying the vial and lying to $!{cg}… are you truly beginning to fight back?|}
    
*else
    With measured tread, you find your racing heartbeat slowly beginning to subside, though that's scant proof against your mind's determination to make you relive every moment of Hypothesis's experimentations. All you can do is try to block the thoughts out as you move towards the meeting place.
    
    
A series of condemned buildings forms a loose ring around the Zone itself. They're in better repair than the Parks, perhaps in the hopes that they'll one day be restored to liveable condition. According to Architect, they were evacuated shortly after the incident of eighteen months ago due to concerns over structural integrity. One such structure serves today as the rendezvous point. A very convenient locale.
*choice
    #Alderbrook's kind of a dump, huh?
        Everywhere you look there's another abandoned or uninhabitable building. You'd thought the Parks was just a particularly bad neighbourhood, but maybe it's emblematic of a much deeper problem.
        
        Though being absolutely fair, any city in the country would struggle to rebound from a gaping hole ripped out of its downtown.
        
    #No wonder the Hounds' reputation is in the garbage.
        So much destruction has been laid at their door, the full responsibility for one of the worst examples of parahuman conflict gone wrong. Of course the Hounds are discredited.
        
        Ironically, likely the only reason that the DPR haven't been able to levy actual sanctions against them is that they'd then have no reason not to air all the dirty laundry of the incident.
        
    #Could the evacuation be the DPR's doing?
        Even if their physical presence in Alderbrook is limited, it's clear that the DPR's influence extends far deeper. If they can keep a covert mission under wraps all this time, then they can pull some strings to empty a few buildings.
        
    #Concentrate. I have a job to do.
        You set your musings to one side. They're irrelevant to the task at hand.

Entering the designated building, you walk into a dusty sitting room to find @{(juice = 100) that despite your late departure,|that} you've arrived ahead of half the team. Architect stands to one side in full regalia, pensively staring into an empty fireplace, arms folded behind his back. Wyrd leans nonchalantly on a wall, as is their wont. They've changed looks again since you last saw them, having reverted to something similar to their appearance when you first met. One feature contrasts: their hair is now in a long braid stretching the full length of their back. They flash you a wink as you step through the doors. Looks like you're waiting for@{(observation > 40) —hold on. Ghoul's here too, ${whis} costume blending into the shadows at the edges of the room. $!{whe} dips ${whis} head in acknowledgement of being spotted.| all the others. You wander into a corner to settle in and then nearly jump out of your skin as the shadows materialise into Ghoul. It's too damn dark in here. Ghoul's pale eyes glitter with amusement.}
    
*if juice = 100
    Your restless powers are desperate to get loose, pressing and probing at your skin from the inside, seeking escape. It's a blessed relief to finally open the box, alleviate the ceaseless struggles of the mass. The membrane bubbles forth like an oil spring, swamping its way across your flesh, enveloping you in its embrace. Chill at first, then steadily warmer. Your tendrils slither into place, twisting sinuously through the air. The pounding at your temples recedes. Your body is alight with the Juice, tuned in perfect harmony, the membrane and tendrils as much a part of you as an arm or a leg.
    *choice
        #I feel unstoppable.
            *set content +1
            *set powerthought 1
            This connection between you and your powers is a rare opportunity to enjoy the perks of parahumanity. A rare glimpse of your true potential. Hypothesis topped you off with Juice irregularly, just enough to keep the side effects in check. Seldom do you get to use the full extent of your abilities while fully Juiced.
            
            Sure, there's a whole dud package that comes alongside your powers, but forget that for a second. In this moment, you could take on the world and win.
            
        #I recoil from that thought, sickened.
            *set hate +1
            *set powerthought 2
            It's the Juice talking, beguiling you with strength, drenching you in pleasant sensations to drown the truth. These powers [i]are[/i] a part of you, an alien entity grafted to you, parasitising you.
            
            They are not yours. They are not your body, and to believe otherwise is to dance upon their strings.
            
        #This strength comes at a cost.
            *set trade +1
            *set powerthought 3
            It's easy to get lost in the moment, exult in the rare sensations of power and control. Yet you fight back the urge, do your best to clear your head. The struck bargain—no, the forced terms—for these abilities of yours are not in your favour, and that's clarity that you must keep.
            
            Perhaps if the price was not so dear—but that thought is pointless. The price is the price.

*else
    For once nobody's particularly talkative, so you proceed to suit up. The membrane ripples forth from beneath your skin, enveloping you in its familiar clammy embrace. Its steady warming never comes quite fast enough to ease your discomfort. Your tendrils in turn slither into place, tasting the air with sinuous twists.
    
    Despite all that comes with these powers of yours, at least you feel equipped for battle.
    *choice
        #Were the price not so steep...
            *set trade +1
            *set powerthought 3
            Your abilities are a potent tool. If you're going to be in situations like this one, then it's certainly better to have them than not. Even amongst parahumans, you're no bottom feeder.
            
            And yet there's always the asterisk. The forced terms of an unfair deal.
            
            No power is worth this cost.
            
        #More than equipped: I'm ready to kick ass.
            *set content +1
            *set powerthought 1
            The circumstances surrounding your powers, those are what they are. You won't change them by getting down on your abilities and ignoring the upsides. If you're going to go toe-to-toe with heroes and professionals in parahuman engagements, then it's a good thing you've got the strength to level the playing field.
            
        #Yes, it's delightful to have a weapon as dangerous to me as my enemies.
            *set hate +1
            *set powerthought 2
            If your abilities are a blade, then the steel is red hot, searing your flesh as often as it cuts your opponents'.
            
            Are you supposed to be grateful that you aren't defenceless while facing foes you never chose?
    
"Seeing you do that is never gonna get old," Wyrd calls out, grinning.

*if powerthought = 1 
    You nod, but your thoughts are elsewhere. 
    
    Thanks to these powers, you're not a helpless victim, not any more.
    
    You won't let yourself be defenceless again.
    
    Never again.
    
*elseif powerthought = 2
    "Speak for yourself," you grumble under your breath. Wyrd laughs. You don't.
    
    At times you want nothing more than to be rid of this burden. this curse.
    
*else
    "Give it time," you reply.
    
    Despite your best efforts to move along, your mind is caught spinning. What if this power could come without its terrible toll?
    
    What if?
    
*page_break

Fracture arrives a few minutes after you, a fresh array of bones studding his body. His gait is lopsided, heavily favouring his left leg, which bristles with spikes from the knee down. More bone has doubled the size of his lower left arm, fingers locked into a snarled fist more reminiscent of a ball of barbed wire than a hand. A pair of mandibles overlap unevenly across the lower portion of his face, the skin of his brow red raw. He greets nobody, limping to position himself as far away from anyone else as he can manage.

Last of all is Rampage, sidling sheep—bashfully into the room. "Sorry," she says. "People kept walking by and I was nervous they'd see me come in."

"You're in reasonable time, no need to worry," Architect replies, turning around at last. Rampage bobs her head while Architect surveys the Altruists. "Well then. Ladies, gentlemen, and none of the above. Shall we?"

As a unit, you move out into the night.
*page_break

It's a brief and quiet walk along the street to the first obstacle of the evening, both figurative and literal. The barriers of the DPR cordon gleam a fluorescent orange in the light of nearby streetlamps. In the gloom, the perimeter seems deserted. Briefly, the six of you take up position crouched behind the corner of the closest building, gathered in a too tight bundle.

"Low security," Ghoul observes. "Could walk right in."

"Sure. If we're stupid," Fracture rumbles back to ${whim}, earning an aggrieved look. Unsurprisingly, Fracture does not seem to care.

"Don't they have cameras here?" Rampage asks at an anxious murmur.

"They do," confirms Architect. "Hence the necessity of a night mission. They lack the personnel to man the perimeter and cameras both."

"DPR likes to automate their security," Wyrd adds. "Their systems will ping unidentified intruders on the cameras, but we'll be long gone before anyone sees it."
*choice
    #Voice that this feels too convenient. Too easy.
        *set rel_architect +5
        *set rel_teddie +5
        "They have to have guards posted," you say. "This site is too important to just leave the door wide open."
        
        "Correct," Architect replies. "A night's watch will be doing their rounds."
        
        You shake your head. "That can't be everything. All this effort to cover things up and they're relying on a couple of sleepy patrollers?"
        
        "If I thought this would be simple, I wouldn't have brought the entire team," says Architect. "We're prepared for any unpleasant surprises."
        
        Though you can't shake the feeling that you're walking into a trap, you nod. The six of you [i]should[/i] be able to handle whatever the DPR has up their sleeves. In the meantime, your head's staying on a swivel.
        
        "Can't wait to bring the whole place down on our heads," Fracture mutters.
        
    #I'm incredulous that the DPR could be such amateurs.
        *set rel_kay +5
        *set rel_wyrd +5
        "They couldn't outsource a half dozen security guards to stand at barriers and stare at monitors?" you snark. "Remind me again how they pulled off this cover-up?"
        
        Wyrd shrugs. "Gotta remember that the DPR usually works closely with their heroes, and nobody's insane enough to attack those guys on their home turf. DPR's usual MO doesn't fit great when they're limited to a squad's worth of dudes."
        
        You shake your head. "If you ask me they're complacent, stupid, or both."
        
        "Hey, if they're gonna act like chumps, I'm not complaining," says Rampage. It's a little difficult to read those strange eyes of hers, but you think it's a glint of mischief you see dancing there. "DPR are a smugass bunch of jerks. Taking them down a peg basically isn't even crime."
        
        "The law disagrees on that count," notes Architect. "So let us assume a degree of competency and advance with care."
        
    #It's too much like that night.
        *set rel_wil %+ 7
        *set rel_kay +2
        The dim streetlight glow. The slight nip of cold. The explorations ahead.
        
        The small group huddled together, discussing the plan in hushed tones.
        
        Close your eyes and you're back there with the four of them, back on the precipice. Teetering. Tipping…
        
        *if ((romance_wil = 4) or (romance_wil = 3))
            "$!{aka}," $!{wname}'s hushed voice is so close you feel ${whis} breath. Your eyes snap open. $!{whe}'s shuffled right in next to you, half-concealed face inches from the membrane over your own. "Don't be nervous. I've got your back."
            
            You wish that alone could be enough. Oh you wish. You realise that you've had your tendrils bunched up tight and visibly trembling, agitation on full display.
            
            *choice
                #Thank ${whim}.
                    "Thanks, Wil," you murmur.
                    
                    "Anytime." $!{whe} winks, though ${whis} eyes are filled with more sympathy than mirth. "Sharp style and emotional support, that's my speciality."
                    
                #Nod.
                    $!{whis} eyes are filled with sympathy, and ${whe} @{(romance_wil = 4) mimes that same flat-palmed gesture you shared yesterday.|flicks you a thumbs up.} You take a breath, nod again, grounded once more.
                    
                #Look away.
                    Wil—Ghoul—means well, but it's an overload. You can't deal with it on top of everything else.
                    
                    $!{whe} managed to ground you. That helps.
                    
                   
            Maybe someday you'll be able to properly explain how much it means, ${whim} being here for you. Someday.
            
        *else
            "Hey, $!{mask}," Ghoul's hushed voice is just inches from your face. Your eyes snap open. None but you knew they were closed. "Don't be nervous. We've got this."
            
            You realise that you've had your tendrils bunched up tight and visibly trembling, agitation on full display. You nod, all too eager to pass it off as simple stage fright. Ghoul returns the gesture, eyes filled with a sympathy you don't know that you want.
            
        Recentre. Focus.    

*page_break
First things first. The cordon isn't going to pass itself. You assume the others will take care of business for themselves, so you only need be concerned with your own ingress.

Your foray into leadership was interesting @{wpp and reasonably successful, but|if a little bumpy, but|albeit not exactly successful, so} it's good to have more straightforward responsibilities this time out.
*choice
    #I study the barriers carefully, and pick the perfect point to slip through unnoticed.
        The terrain here is uneven, so the row of barriers is disjointed, winding back and forth across the street as it moves with the whims of the broken ground below.
            
        As for the barriers themselves, they're hardly insurmountable obstacles. It would be the work of a instant to climb over or duck underneath any of them. However, doing so would put you in plain sight of anyone on the fair side of the cordon, and with darkness shrouding the area, your current vantage doesn't afford you a proper view of what lies beyond. 
        
        *if (observation > 37)
            Your roving eye alights on one spot in particular, one barrier aligned especially obliquely amongst the rest. Close to the fringe of the open area, the mouth of the Zone ahead of you, it perches awkwardly on a slab of crazily tilted sidewalk.
            
            That's the place.
            
            You move out, taking a wide angle to skirt the edges of the space. Just as expected, your chosen barrier is so far skewed that it actually creates a blind spot. You squeeze past the gap between barrier and building, and you're past the perimeter. 
            
        *else
            You settle on a likely-looking spot in between two barriers, each tilted at an angle, resulting in a narrow channel. You head directly for your chosen point and swiftly encounter a snag. A deep crack in the asphalt runs through the selfsame channel, and it doesn't look like the kind of place you want to stick your foot.
            
            There's no time to back up and reassess, forcing you to take the more direct route of clambering past the righthand barrier, which also elevates you into plain view.
            
            *goto newvantage
    #I'm confident enough in my stealth to sneak past.
        *if subterfuge > 36
            Sneaking? You've got this. @{(subterfuge > 50) Criminal scum, and all.|You haven't been practicing for the good of your health.}
            
            The key is to keep low and move smooth. Erratic bursts of pace draw the eye. You take off from the street corner and hustle while never quite rushing. The faster you go, the louder your footfalls will get. Low and smooth.
            
            As you move, your eyes are darting back and forth, seeking out a likely spot. At one point along the perimeter, neighbouring barriers are almost at right angles to one another, cutting off line of sight to the far side. Perfect. You adjust course.
            
            Reaching your target, you slip into a crouch, pause, and assess. A flashlight bobs not too far away; a patrol. Their movement is unhurried and their route takes a wide angle. Provided you don't linger, you won't be spotted.
            
            Needless to say, you don't linger, continuing deeper towards your goal. By the time the watchman passes, you're long gone.
            *goto patrol
            
        *else
            It's night, there's cover, how hard can it be?
            
            In retrospect, that thought probably should have rung some alarm bells.
            
            Well, technically it almost does as you move out from your position, hustle across to the barrier line, and then in the process of crossing the perimeter, accidentally kick a loose stone and send it clattering wildly ahead of you. Incidentally, this new position also affords you an [i]excellent[/i] view of the DPR watchman rounding a blown-out ruin just a few short metres away. Too close to properly hide from, too far to swiftly silence.
            
            *goto architectsave
    #Stride in there decisively, and I'll be through before anyone has a chance to spot me.
        *temp bold true

        Sometimes boldness is best. Trying to creep past will just give any guards the chance to reach this area, and you'll have squandered your window of opportunity.
        
        Instead of deliberating, you make your move, darting out from behind the building. You keep low and you keep quick, soon reaching the barrier line.
        
        *label newvantage
        This fresh vantage affords you an [i]excellent[/i] view of the DPR watchman rounding a blown-out ruin just a few short metres away. Too close to properly hide from, too far to swiftly silence.
        
        *label architectsave
        *set savingthrow true
        The officer's flashlight sweeps inexorably in your direction. You're seconds from discovery at the first hurdle—
        
        A gleaming cylinder of light erupts from the ground beneath the watchman, throwing him from his feet. A second energy construct slides smoothly from a semi-destroyed wall at an acute angle, pinning the man neatly to the ground. Architect is suddenly moving past you, stripping his pinioned victim of all equipment, gagging him, and then ziptying wrists and ankles before dragging him out of sight into the nearby ruin. The whole process takes less than a minute.
        
        Architect shoots you a look as he re-emerges. "Do try to show a little caution, $!{mask}."
        
        You bite back your retort and take stock of what's ahead.
        *goto patrol
    #Use my tendrils to climb around the side, bypassing the cordon entirely.
        *if juice > 10
            *set juice -10
        Best way to handle the risk of getting spotted: remove it from consideration.
        
        Flexing your tendrils, you size up the building bordering the nearest part of the perimeter. Busted windows and crumbled brick aplenty promise easy handholds. You wouldn't be confident in scaling a sheer wall, but you can work with this.
        
        Splitting off from the others, you head for your chosen point and jump at the wall. One tendril latches firmly onto the first windowsill up above, the other punching into an area of loose brick to grapple on tight. Your position feels solid, and after taking a moment to test your stability—the tendrils aren't even straining—you begin your ascent. Given your only similar experience is power-boosted leaping, you're a little surprised by just how straightforward it is to climb. Six anchor points provide a perfect platform to smoothly make your way up with nary a wobble.
        
        Cresting the top of the building, you stroll to the opposite side of the roof and swing yourself over the side. Halfway down, you detach yourself from the wall and drop cleanly to the ground, absorbing the fall through your tendrils as is becoming habit. A quick glance to orient yourself, and you move behind a nearby pile of rubble to wait for the others. Feels good to start the mission off on a positive note. Just have to pace yourself.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
        *goto patrol
    *selectable_if (fighting_style = 2) #I consider the whole environment and likely patrol routes to come up with a unique entry.
        Provided you're able to link up with the others on the far side, your point of entry is irrelevant. There's no need to limit yourself only to what's staring you in the face.
        
        You study the cordon. Though it's uneven, winding back and forth across the street at the whims of the broken ground upon which it stands, the perimeter doesn't strike you as especially difficult to patrol. The direct option would put you at the whims of any passing guard. If you were unfortunate in your timing, you'd be spotted immediately. A plan relying on luck isn't much of a plan, so you consider further. 
        
        Hm, the problem of crossing directly is really that you wouldn't see the patrol before it's too late. In that case… another angle? A building adjacent to the street has thoroughly boarded windows and the DPR's DO NOT APPROACH tape draped across it. Buildings can form just as much a perimeter as the barriers.
        
        You move out. A handful of the windows are at ground level, so you begin testing them with your tendrils. The third such test reveals a promising wobble to the boards. Bingo. Pressing more firmly, it's the work of seconds to prise the loose boards away and slip through the gap you created. @{(mc_exbuild > 4) Couldn't have managed that if you were built like you used to be. Not that it feels like a positive. |}
        
        The room you find yourself in is scarcely worthy of the label, lacking as it does the requisite quantity of walls and doors. What it does have is a sturdy office desk, a furnishing you promptly avail yourself of as the glow of a flashlight appears beyond the half-ruined wall straight ahead. A shadowy figure passes by as you hold position and stay low. There's your patrol.
        
        Once the light recedes, you hurry out of the far side of the building, Smooth as silk.
        *goto patrol

*label patrol
*page_break
Having breached the outskirts, you're now into the Zone proper. The streetlamps beyond the perimeter strain to extend this far, leaving the gloom of night to shroud everything in darkness. A glow emanates from somewhere in the distance, but the light source is obscured by a collapsed building, fallen in such a way to block half the street.

Street isn't the right word any more. The shattered concrete around and ahead of you forms peaks and valleys more akin to a nature hike than the middle of an urban centre. You won't so much be walking through the destruction as traversing it, climbing up and down as the broken ground demands. And those are the [i]intact[/i] areas. 

On one side of the once-street, the ground simply falls away, plunging into a chasm. Without light to illuminate the way, it could be the edge of a bottomless pit.

With the remainder of the team getting past the perimeter undetected and in good order, your advance continues. Silent hand gestures from Architect command the group to split in half to circle around the obstruction in your path. You join Fracture and Ghoul in hanging a left towards the point where the fallen building rests up against another, leaving a tight wedge of an opening between them.

Being at the front of the trio lets you get a great look at the cramped, rubble-filled, and who can forget [i]almost pitch black[/i] corridor between the ruins. Steeling yourself, you step into the confines of the passageway.
*choice
    #...don't... touch... anything...
        You hold yourself as close and contained as possible, retracting your tendrils as tight as they'll go. Step by step, you make your way through, flinching with each inadvertent brush against the slanted walls around you.
        
    #Steady now. Steady.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        Provided you hold your nerve, everything will be fine.
        
        You measure your pace, concentrating on calm and steady breathing, and make your way through.
        
    #There's nothing to worry about; I'm not bringing down a building with a touch.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        If the buildings' position was so unstable they'd have crumbled by now. Move quickly and quietly and you'll be fine.
        
        Your crossing of the passage is swift and marred by only a handful of bumps against the walls. True to your prediction, everything remains perfectly solid and unmoving.
        
    #I'm overwhelmed by claustrophobia.
        Too dark, too tight, too close. You breathe raggedly as you move, heart pounding faster and faster by the second. The space seems to narrow, and you're seized by the panicked urge to make yourself more room before the passage closes around you.
        
        Before you can lose your head and set your tendrils upon the walls, you see dim light ahead and wrest yourself under control.
        
        Almost there.

Emerging back into the open air, you find yourself amidst yet more broken, erratic terrain. The only consistency to mark the route forward is in its direction: down. From here, you can see that the upright building is rather less than whole, missing a chunk of its middle floors like a giant took a bite out of them.

You're just… not going to think about that.

Moving a couple of steps out from the passage, you put your shoulder to a detached pillar of exposed metal and concrete that once served as a building support, and peer around the corner.
*page_break Into the alarmed face of a guard.
Bright blue eyes widen like saucers. His mouth opens. You've a split-second to act.
*choice
    #Overpower him before he has a chance to cry out.
        *if guts > 30
            You're on top of the officer in an instant, using all the strength you've got to wrestle him to the ground and pin him there, clamping a hand across his mouth. Despite his struggles—he twists his body this way and that, desperately attempting to get loose—you've got all the leverage you need to keep him down indefinitely.
            
            *label tieup
            @{(rel_teddie > rel_wil) Ghoul's suddenly at your side, delicately handing you some zip-ties.|Fracture appears by your side, thrusting a fistful of zip-ties at you.} Nodding acknowledgement, you get the guard bound up nice and tight. You dump him off in the passageway and swiftly return to the others.
            
            @{(rel_teddie > rel_wil) "Good work," says Fracture before immediately setting off again. Ghoul glances at you,|"Nicely handled," says Ghoul, miming a clap. "Guy never stood a chance." Next to ${whim}, Fracture grunts impatiently and sets off. Ghoul} gives an amused shrug, and then follows him.
            *goto stage3
            
        *else
            Though you're on top of the officer in an instant, he's a burly fellow and not so easily outmuscled. Even with all your strength and both arms wrapped around his torso, you can't get the guy off his feet. He's scrabbling around at his waist, and you realise with dismay that he's going for a radio.
            
            *if (not (savingthrow))
                *label teddiesave
                A bony fist crashes into the guard's face, folding him like an accordion. He's out before he hits the ground.
            
                Fracture stands over his victim, eyes roving for any sign of movement. When there's none, Fracture wordlessly thrusts a handful of zip-ties at you and leaves you to handle getting the guy bundled up. Possibly because he currently lacks one of his thumbs, possibly because he just doesn't feel like it. Regardless, you sort of owe him, so you bind the officer's wrists and ankles and then dump him off in the passageway. Fracture barely acknowledges your return, setting off ahead as soon as he sees you on the way back. Ghoul nods at you at least.
                *set savingthrow true 
                *goto stage3
            
            *else
                *label guardbungle
                *set alarmlevel 2
                *set investigations -1
                You're struggling to keep it cool, snatching for the guard's wrist as the two of you twist and turn around one another. You feel the officer's hand grasp his walkie-talkie. He's going to call in. You're busted, the mission's screwed—
                
                "Fucking—hold still!" Fracture barks, slicing through your frantic thoughts. You plant your feet, halting the circling. The watchman brings the radio as high as he can.
                
                "I need back—" A bony fist instantly shuts him up. Walkie-talkie and guard both go crashing to the ground.
                
                "Tie him," Fracture growls, thrusting a handful of zip-ties at you. Given you kind of owe him, you set to binding the officer's wrists and ankles and then dump him off in the passageway. Neither Fracture nor Ghoul speaks as you return to them. All of you know that your window just narrowed considerably.
                
                *goto stage3
    *selectable_if (fighting_style = 1) #I'm a trained fighter, and he's in my reach. Easy mark.
        One unprepared guard? Yeah maybe try giving you a challenge.
        
        Seizing the officer in a clinch, you drive three straight knees into his solar-plexus, crushing every last bit of air from his lungs. He's barely standing after your barrage, and you put a stop to that nonsense with a snappy throw that sees him flat on his back and unmoving.
        
        *goto tieup
    #Take him down silently.
        Stop him from calling out, that's the priority.
        
        *if subterfuge > 36
            
            You clap a hand over the officer's mouth and dart behind him, using your other arm to snag his neck into a chokehold. Your tendrils take care of controlling his arms, preventing him from struggling his way free as you squeeze down on his airway until he loses consciousness. That taken care of, you lower his limp body to the ground.
            
            *goto tieup
        *else
          Though you try to get a hand over the officer's mouth as you step behind him, he's a burly fellow and your finesse and footwork aren't where they need to be. You stumble into an accidental hipcheck, and your grab around his neck is less the intended chokehold and more a desperate attempt not to trip over.
          
          Worse yet, as your silent takedown swiftly becomes a grappling match, you realise with dismay that the guard's going for a radio at his waist.
            
          *if (not (savingthrow))
                *goto teddiesave
            
          *else
                *goto guardbungle
            
    #Hit him until he drops. Hard.
        *set brutal +2
        *set rel_wil %- 7
        *if rel_teddie < 1
            *set rel_teddie 10
            
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 7
        Your tendrils rocket over your shoulders, landing twin blows to the guard's sternum with a distinct [i]crack[/i].
        
        He collapses in a wheezing heap, clutching at his chest.
        
        You step forward, ready to follow up if necessary, already knowing you won't have to. Nobody breathing like that is standing back up to fight.
        
        "Fuck me, $!{mask}," Ghoul says, walking up to your side. "Overkill much? He's just a guy."
        
        "Grow up," snaps Fracture, stepping past ${whim} and handing you a fistful of zip-ties. You take his meaning and get the officer's wrists and ankles bound. He's in for an uncomfortable night.
        
        Ghoul sighs and speaks no further, and the three of you regroup to move along.
        
        *goto stage3
    #Wrap him up in my tendrils and wrestle him down.
        *if juice > 10
            *set juice -10
        In the blink of an eye, you've got one tendril coiled around the guard's face and neck, and the other holding his arms fast against his sides. He struggles in your grip, letting out muffled cries of fear. Neither is enough to slacken your tendrils' grapple, and they're more than strong enough to pull him to the ground. Heck, they're strong enough to straight up lift the guy and then lay him down if you felt like it.
        
        Either way, you hold tight to your @{(expressive > 55) uh, bundle of joy|prey} and keep him pinned securely to the floor.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
    
        *goto tieup
    
*label stage3   
*page_break
The destruction only worsens beyond this point. The chasm you walked by earlier meets up with its counterpart from the opposite side of the area, and though the light's a little better here than earlier, all it accomplishes is to cast the yawning pit into even greater shadow. It's as if you're standing above some subterranean realm of darkness.

You have to admit, being here physically is a far cry from just seeing it in photographs. Anywhere you place your feet the ground seems to shift uneasily. You can barely walk a couple of yards in any direction before needing to step up or down, and you're always standing at a slight angle thanks to the slant of the terrain. The Zone is the trauma of an entire city, an incredible scar upon the landscape. You begin to understand why Alderbrook hasn't made any real effort to repair the damage. It must feel like an utter impossibility.

Your eye is drawn to nearby movement; the others have got around their side of the building. You, Fracture, and Ghoul move over to join them on the edge of the plunge to below. Even standing right on the fringe of the drop, you can only just make out a protruding ledge of concrete, and it looks dubious at best as footing. 

"We need to reach the bottom," says Architect, who you note has positioned himself well away from the chasm. "I can form a staircase of sorts with my power, and I expect it can hold two people, counting myself. However, ferrying you all one at a time would be too slow for our purposes. It's unwise to linger."

"Take Fracture," Rampage says immediately.

Fracture starts to glare. "Rampage—"

She cuts off his protest. "Te—Dude, you can't climb with your hand and leg like they are. I don't want you to fall."

He growls wordlessly, but complains no further.
*page_break Consider how you're getting down.

As you look around the immediate environment—the route matters as much as the method—your attention drifts in the direction of the nearby light source making your life a little easier. As it turns out, the increased lighting is centred around a pair of porta cabins standing in perhaps the only area of flat ground in the vicinity. One cabin is windowless, while the other emanates a soft light from two sides. Despite that, the lion's share of the illumination comes from a set of standing floodlights. Those cabins must be the DPR's base of operations in the Zone.

By extension that'll be the surveillance hub for the cameras no doubt recording you this very moment. In theory, nobody is monitoring them right now. In practice you may have triggered a dozen alerts already. @{(alarmlevel > 1) Even more than your misstep with the guard.|} Still, Wyrd and Architect seemed confident enough, so you probably don't need to get hung up on it. Botching an attempt at sabotage will do far more harm than good. Though if the opportunity is there to derail any future attempts at tracing your steps, can you afford to pass it up?

*if (inform1 > 4)
    You might even keep your little lie off the Coven's radar.

*choice
    #I'm down for a side mission.
        "Hold on a second," you tell the others. "The DPR's base is right there. We could trash their surveillance."
        
        "I won't stop you, $!{mask}," Architect replies. "Be quick about it. The longer we delay, the more likely we're spotted."
        
        Not the most enthusiastic green light you've ever had.
        
        You briefly assess your options. If you're confident in your technical know-how, you can try to directly access any computers you find in there. If you don't think you can manage that yourself, then there's always asking a teammate. The choices might be limited there…
        
        Otherwise you could just smash up the whole place, though who's to say that will actually mess with any footage? Maybe it would make more sense to target their power grid directly. Wherever that is. @{(speciality = 1) A node could potentially help in that scenario, get into any narrow crawlspaces for a better look.|}
        
        And you can always just chalk the whole thing off as a bad idea and play it safe.
        *label cameramenu
        *choice
            #I'll try to find a computer and directly erase the recordings.
                Slipping away from the group, you move towards the cabins. While venturing into a better lit and more exposed space is rather nerve-wracking, you reach your goal without a glimpse of any more guards. The cabin door's lock isn't up to much, @{(subterfuge > 40) yielding instantly to a simple nudge around the door's seam|giving way after some jimmying from side to side}, and then you're in.
                
                You're greeted with a row of monitors in grayscale, blinking asynchronously between various views of the Zone. Still no guards. Your teammates were on the money. A desktop computer at least fifteen years behind the curve is crammed into the corner of the cabin atop a desk overflowing with empty cans, wrappers and a truly deranged quantity of post-it notes.
                
                *if (knowledge > 37)
                    *set footagedestroy true
                    You're over to the computer in a trice. It's password protected, an expected problem. Way back when, you once stumbled upon a couple of articles calling the DPR out for poor digital security. Anticipating that you might need to access a DPR computer, you did a little digging and found more recent references to the same practices. A fixed format based off the year and month.
                    
                    As such… you lean over the keyboard and input the relevant password. Incorrect. You pause, consider, input what should be last month's password. Correct. You grin victoriously.
                    
                    From there, it's trivial to locate the camera controls, stop the recordings, and delete all footage from the past week. @{(expressive > 55) You allow yourself a bit of a strut as you make your exit and head on back to the others.|You head back to the others with the satisfaction of a job well done.}
                    
                    *goto getdowna
                *else
                    *set alarmlevel +1
                    *set investigations -1
                    *set papersplease true
                    You're over to the computer in a trice. While it's password protected, somebody with this many notes must have written something down amongst them, right?
                    
                    As it turns out, no. You pick through post-it after post-it, finding a combination of aimless doodles, reminders to buy groceries, and what appears to be excerpts of a story that devotes a rather worrying level of detail to descriptions of Surpass's thighs. It takes far longer than you would have liked to settle on three notes that look sufficiently passwordy to try out.
                    
                    Three successive guesses are met with an INCORRECT prompt on screen, and then the computer locks up with a message declaring REPORT SENT TO ADMINISTRATOR.
                    
                    @{(knowledge < 30) Why does this always happen!?|Well. That's not good.}
                    
                    Having inflicted quite enough damage to your own mission, you make your exit and slink back to the others with your tail between your legs.
                    
                    *goto getdowna
            #Wyrd's done something like this before. I'll ask them to take care of it.
                *set doubt_wyrd +15
                *set footagedestroy true
                "Hey, Wyrd," you whisper, creeping over to them. They glance to you. "I don't know if I'll be able to bring the cameras down myself." You indicate the cabins. "Think you can throw a spanner in the works?"
        
                They look at you askance. In the gloom of night, their dark eyes are almost invisible. "Sure, sounds doable. How'd you know I'm handy with tech?"
        
                …From Hypothesis.
        
                Fuck.
                *choice
                    #Make a quick excuse.
                        "You were talking about their systems earlier so I assumed…"
                    
                        "Know what they say about assumptions…" Wyrd lets it hang in the air for a second. "Anyway, back in a second."
                    
                        Wyrd slips off into the night.
                    
                        *goto wyrdreturn
                    #Evade the question.
                        "If you can do it, then go do it. We don't have time to talk," you say.
                    
                        Wyrd smirks. "Fair enough," they reply, drawing out both words. Then they slip off into the night.
                    
                        *label wyrdreturn
                        They move fluidly, holding themself with a certain grace that you hadn't expected. Even watching them all the way, there are two occasions when they almost blend into the shadows and vanish before your eyes. Reaching the cabin, Wyrd—you don't actually see exactly what they do—cracks the door open and then vanishes within. Perhaps a minute and a half later they reappear, flashing a grin in your direction that you spot even from this distance.
                    
                        Soon they're back over to the rest of you. "All done. Piece of cake," they announce.
                        *choice
                            #"Good going." Flash them a grin.
                                *set expressive %+ 5
                                *set rel_wyrd +3
                                Wyrd sweeps out their hands as they bow deeply. "A mere trifle, @{interest_wyrd my dear,"|nothing for one of my calibre."}
                            
                                @{interest_wyrd Their… dear? Good grief.|You snort. What a dork. A supervillainous dork.}
                            
                            #Nod and get back to it.
                                *set expressive %- 5
                                *set rel_wyrd + 3
                                "You're welcome," Wyrd says, sounding amused. You're already inspecting the way down again.
                            
                            #"That was fast."
                                Wyrd shrugs. "Dumbass taped his password to his desk."
                            
                                "Oh." Apparently the DPR has some real gems in their midst.
                                
                        *goto getdowna
            *disable_reuse #Smash stuff up.
                *if ((instinctive < 40) or (fighting_style = 2))
                    So, being clear, the plan is to openly wreck the DPR's main hub here and hope—with zero supporting evidence—that this will somehow ruin their recordings.

                    *choice
                        #Erm... maybe I'll rethink.
                            Lost your head for a second there.
                            *goto cameramenu
                        #I see no flaws in this strategy.
                            *set vindicate true
                            …Right.
                            *choice
                                #I know what I'm doing!
                                    Uh huh.
                                #I'm fairly sure I know what I'm doing!
                                    Uh huh.
                                    
                            *goto smashitup
                                 
                
                *else
                    *label smashitup
                    *set rel_kay %+ 7
                    *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
                    *set rel_architect %- 5
                    *if rel_teddie < 1
                        *set rel_teddie 1
                        
                    *else
                        *set rel_teddie %- 5
                    *set alarmlevel +1
                    *set investigations -1
                    *set footagedestroy true
                    *set instinctive %+ 10
                    Splitting off from the others, you head towards the cabins, flexing your tendrils.
                    
                    *if guts < 20
                        *set juice -5
                        Since you're lacking in the brawn department you know you'll need to lean on your powers a little for this.
                        *gosub juicecheck
                        
                        *goto nothingelegant
                    *else
                        By your reckoning, you won't need to pump yourself up too much to get this done. @{(guts < 30) You're not the strongest, but those cabins aren't the sturdiest either.|You can rely on your own brawn and the natural boost from your membrane.}
                        
                        *goto nothingelegant
                    *label nothingelegant           
                    Nothing elegant to the gameplan. You set your feet upon reaching the target and proceed to piledrive both tendrils into the wall at once. They easily puncture through, and you rip them clear, bringing a huge chunk of flimsy port-a-wall along for the ride. The hole is big enough for you to climb through @{(mc_height = 6) if you stoop, | }and you do so in short order. Within, you see a row of monitors blinking asynchronously through grayscale views of the Zone, as well as a computer tucked in the corner atop a desk.
                    
                    Needless to stay, it does not stay there for long. You obliterate screen after screen with tendril and fist, put a hole straight through the desktop, and then move through to next door, the other cabin. Amongst stacks of cardboard boxes and a half dozen lockers, you see a black device around the size of the deceased computer@{(knowledge > 30) ; a server, you think. A good target.|; you're not sure what it is, but you're here to smash and it looks important, so…} You lift it in your tendrils and hurl it to the floor, where it explodes with a satisfying crunch.
                    
                    That should do it. While you could probably find more stuff to break, you've already made a hell of a lot of noise. Best to quit while you're ahead. You hop back out of the wall hole and return to the others, all of whom are staring at you as you approach.
                    
                    Wyrd smirks. "Ballsy move, $!{mask}." Next to them, Rampage grins.
                    
                    "Stupid," Fracture interjects.
                    
                    Architect touches two fingers to his helmet. "What part of 'stealth mission' did you not—oh never mind."
                    
                    Everyone's a critic.
                    
                    *goto getdowna
            #@{(speciality =1) Using a node for assistance, |}I'll attempt to locate and cut the power.
                *if speciality = 1
                    *if juice > 10
                        *set juice -10
                    
                    *set node true
                    *set footagedestroy true
                    You take a deep breath, mouth already beginning to flood with warm fluid. The ichor soon overflows your lips, spilling down your chin and seeping through your membrane.
                    
                    The legs crawl up first, wriggling at the sides of your oesophagus, scrabbling for purchase. You drop to one knee as your throat bulges and twitches with its emergent passenger. As it bursts up and out, you choke, splattering yourself and the ground around you in a red-black mist.
                    
                    "Jesus!" blurts Ghoul@{(romance_wil > 1) , suddenly at your side.|.} "Are you alright?"
                    
                    Instead of answering, you corral the node, capturing it under your hand before it can go scuttling off, earning yourself a high-pitched squawk of protest. Only then do you look up, shoulders shaking with your exertions. Fracture and Rampage's faces @{usednodecaper aren't as alarmed as Ghoul's—it occurs to you that Wil's actually the only one who hasn't seen this before—but are still fairly uneasy. Different when it's up close, you suppose.|are almost as alarmed as Ghoul's. This might be the single biggest reaction you've seen out of Fracture.}
                    
                    *if ((not (usednodecaper)) and (sackkay))
                        Wait, no, there was the explosion after the previous mission. Second biggest.
                        
                    *gosub juicecheck
                
                    [i]move. eat. move.[/i]
                    *choice
                        #Shrug off the concern.
                            *set rel_wil -3
                            *set rel_wyrd +3
                            "I'm fine," you say. "Don't crowd me."
                            
                            Ghoul looks @{(romance_wil > 1) a little hurt,|put out,} but has nothing to add.
                            
                        #Admit it's not particularly fun.
                            *set rel_wil +3
                            *set rel_wyrd -3
                            "I won't lie, this doesn't feel great," you say. The node squirms in your grasp. "I'll manage." You always do.
                            
                            *if romance_wil >1
                                 "Don't push too hard. You don't have to do it all," Ghoul replies quietly.
                                 
                                 Wyrd breaks in. "$!{mc_he} @{mc_singular does|do} have to do this though, so if we can move it along…?"
                                 
                            *else
                                 "Remember, the team is here," Ghoul replies quietly.
                                 
                                 Wyrd breaks in. "Yeah and we're waiting, so if we can move it along…?"
                            
                            That gets them @{(romance_wil > 1) an ugly look|a roll of the eyes} from Ghoul, but you take the point as it's made.
                            
                        #Concentrate on the objective.
                            "It'll help out," you say, avoiding the actual question. The node squirms in your grasp, as if acknowledging your mention.
                            
                            "Sure, but—" Ghoul stops ${whim}self with a sigh. "Okay then."
                            
                        *selectable_if (juice <= 40) #Try to handle the haze of mounting fatigue.
                            "I'm fine," you mutter, glad you can get away with closing your eyes unseen. Cutting down on the number of senses helps, especially with the node's feedback nipping at your heels.
                            
                            With a few cycles of inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, you're able to reset, if not refresh. You'll manage for now.
                    
                    You push off on your knees to rise to your feet and set out, the node's dendrites coiling and uncoiling around your wrist.
                    
                    [i]eat. hunt.[/i]
                    *page_break
                    Once you judge you've gained enough distance for the node not to get distracted by your teammates, you toss it gently out ahead of you. It splats unceremoniously to the ground, but is no worse for wear as it scrambles upright. Leaning on your mental connection, you usher it towards the cabins, picturing wires and cables in your best effort to guide its capricious attention. Fortunately, light and warmth both tend to draw the nodes, and it heads directly for the target.
                    
                    Following in the node's wake, your eyes' floor-level focus lets you spot something of a crawlspace below the cabin. The nodes also happen to enjoy tight enclosed spaces, and you barely have to nudge it to prompt a fresh surge of speed. What follows is some thirty, sixty seconds of impressions of cramped darkness flashing through your link, not-quite-hearing the scrabbling of its legs. 
                    
                    [i]bite. eat.[/i]
                    
                    [i]not eat![/i]
                    
                    Then all the lights in the cabin go out.
                    
                    The node is more eager than you expected to return, obediently scuttling back out of the space. Upon re-emerging, it rushes straight to you, scales your leg, and then settles at your waist, clinging to your hip.
                    
                    *choice
                        #Pet the node. 
                            *achieve petpetpet
                            It's warm beneath your fingers, squirming happily at your touch.
                            
                            You give its misshapen body a couple of pets, experiencing its strange proto-emotions in return. (The nature of your connection means it also feels vaguely like you're patting your own head, which is an… interesting sensation).
                            
                        #"Yeah yeah, good job."
                            The node bares rows of glistening teeth at you, which you choose to interpret as appreciation.
                            
                        #Ignore it.
                            [i]bite. feed. eat.[/i]
                            
                            It doesn't seem to notice your slight.
                            
                    …Thinking about things, it's going to be kind of a kick in the teeth if cutting the power doesn't disrupt the recording, huh?
                    
                    *goto getdowna
                *else
                    This turns out to be easier said than done. Although there are a number of cables and wires snaking their way around the vicinity of the cabins, they all disappear into a crawlspace underneath the structures that you have no means of accessing unless you start tearing an extremely conspicuous hole. You'd figured that they were running all of this off a generator or two, but despite your best efforts, your search turns up a blank.
                    
                    You make one more frustrating, fruitless circuit of the cabins, finding nothing that looks integral to whatever grid the DPR has going here. Though you reckon you could figure it out with time, that's one luxury you don't have. With the clock ticking, you're forced to return to the others empty-handed.
                    
                    *goto getdowna
    #Stay on task.
        It's likely too late to do anything about the camera footage. There's no point getting sidetracked.
        
        *goto getdown

*label getdowna
With the extracurriculars out of the way, it's time to return to the task at hand: reaching the Zone's depths from all the way up here.

*label getdown
@{(instinctive > 55) You lean out over the pit, unfased by the risk; you're not going to fall.|Ensuring your balance is completely steady, you lean out over the pit.} From this position and lighting you aren't even able to tell how deep it goes. Casting your mind back to the images Wyrd presented yesterday, you'd estimate that it's a drop of several storeys. @{(instinctive > 55) Not too crazy, though it wouldn't be a fun spill to take.|Quite the daunting descent.}

Architect is forming the first of many shapes directly from the wall of the pit; a long flat square. Fracture steps gingerly onto it. Similarly tentative is Ghoul, crouching right down in order to lower ${whim}self onto the first ledge below. Rampage and Wyrd are the opposite, casually hopping right off the edge. Wyrd, you assume, has little to fear from a fall thanks to their enhanced durability, while Rampage… is Rampage.

Well, make up your mind or be left behind.
*choice
    #At this rate I'm going to psych myself out. Just start climbing!
        *if instinctive > 60
            *set instinctive %+ 5
            Going with your gut usually works. Why change that now?
            
        *elseif instinctive > 45
            *set instinctive %+ 5
            It's not that far and there are plenty of footholds, what's the worst that could happen?
            
        *else
            *set instinctive %+ 5
            Admittedly, it's not your preference. On the other hand, you know that you're occasionally susceptible to choice paralysis—you're already stalling.
            
        You jump to the first ledge, generously flat and broad. Nothing to it. This'll be a cinch—okay wow the next one is more of a foothold than a ledge. Still, you're pledged not to dawdle, so you move to the edge and step down to your new destination. Alright, now just to do that a dozen or so more times.
        
        You manage half that number before your eyes, tricked by the gloom, mistake a slim outcropping as something both larger and sturdier.
        
        *goto tumbletime
    #I go slowly, taking my time to pick out the best route with a keen eye.
        *if instinctive > 60
            *set instinctive %- 5
            While usually you wouldn't stand for [i]slow and steady[/i], there's enough of a hazard here to warrant extra caution. Only a little!
            
        *elseif instinctive > 45
            *set instinctive %- 5
            It's the sensible approach.
            
        *else
            *set instinctive %- 5
            Being methodical rarely steers you wrong, and you can think of no better situation than this for healthy caution.
        
        *if (observation > 37)
            With careful study guiding your path, you move steadily downward from ledge to ledge, looking before you leap at each new step. Some areas are forgivingly flat and broad, others barely protrude from the side of the chasm. More than once the most obvious route, on closer inspection, is crumbling, or the darkness plays tricks with your eyes, suggesting a foothold where there is none. Eventually you hop from one final ledge and touch down. You've reached the bottom unscathed. 
            
        *else
            You study each ledge as you go, settling into a rhythm of touching down on a step and then immediately inspecting the next, confirming your pathway. Some areas are forgivingly flat and broad, others barely protrude from the side of the chasm. 
            
            The problem with a rhythm is in the relaxation of routine. You grow too comfortable with what you're doing, and you stop looking so closely, stop picking up every detail.
            
            Such as, for instance, that the next footfall is not nearly so stable as it appears.
            
            *label tumbletime
            *set tumble true
            *if (not (savingthrow))
                *set savingthrow true
                The narrow ledge disintegrates underfoot. You start to fall with a snatched off cry, careening down the walls of the pit—
                
                "I got you!"
                
                A hand grasps your flailing tendril and as it snaps taut you come to a jarring halt, swinging from that singular slender appendage. You grit your teeth. Though it doesn't hurt, per se, you wouldn't call it comfortable. You crane your neck upward, and see Rampage hanging from a tiny handhold by one outstretched arm, holding onto you with the other.
                
                Your yammering heartbeat slowly subsides.
                *choice
                    #Thank her.
                        *set rel_kay +5
                        "Nice reflexes," you call up to her.
                        
                        "They're pretty good," she replies. "I probably looked super cool from the outside."
                        
                        "And the inside?"
                        
                        "Internal screaming that I was gonna fall."
                        
                        You laugh tightly, a release of tension. A few feet in either direction and that would have gone very badly.
                    #Crack a joke.
                        *set rel_kay +5
                        *if expressive < 31
                            *set expressive %+ 5
                            You try to come up with an appropriate wisecrack and fail.
                            
                            Is that better or worse than making a joke that goes down like a lead balloon? Jury's out.
                            
                            "You good, $!{mask}?" asks Rampage.
                            
                            "I was looking for a pun, but I've got nothing," you admit.
                            
                            She laughs anyway.
                            
                            *label kayhelp
                            With some manoeuvring and rather more getting swung around by your tendril than you'd like, the two of you work together to drop you back off on a stable platform. From there, you can resume your descent.
                            
                        *else
                            *set expressive %+ 5
                            "You know, I don't think that's it's intendriled purpose."
                            
                            Pause.
                            
                            Rampage groans. "Fuck you I'm dropping you."
                            
                            "Worth it."
                            
                            *goto kayhelp
                    #Tell her to put me down.
                        *set rel_kay -3
                        "Swing me over to another ledge." You don't want to be in this precarious position any longer than necessary.
                        
                        "Alrighty." Rampage obliges, enabling you to get your feet back on relatively solid ground. "You're welcome, by the way."
                        
                        You don't reply: there's still a job to do, and falling was already enough of a delay.
                        
                Thankfully, the remainder of the climb to the chasm floor is straightforward, and you touch down without further incident.
                
                *goto groundlevel
            
            *else
                *set alarmlevel +1
                *set investigations -1
                The narrow ledge disintegrates underfoot and you fall with a snatched off cry. You make a desperate attempt to adjust, snatching at the wall and only succeeding in sending yourself into a spin. You hit a hard surface shoulder first, rebound, continue to tumble dizzyingly down the sides of the pit.
                
                Rgh—!
                
                You fling out both tendrils, moulding their tips to points. They thud into the wall and with twin horrid, nails-on-a-chalkboard screeches, begin gouging furrows. Your uncontrolled fall stabilises, then slows, and you're able to guide yourself into a messy landing at the base of the pit. That was far noisier, far bruisier than you would have liked.
                
                *if (node)
                    [i]hurt?[/i]
                    
                    The node scampers over to you. Apparently it bailed somewhere during the fall. Little jerk.
                            
                *goto groundlevel
    #Screw it, I'll pump my membrane full of energy and take the express lane.
        *if juice >10
            *set juice -10
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        *set dive true
        You're a parahuman, may as well act like it.
        
        Concentrating on that well within, you push outward, channelling into the membrane. You feel it beginning to harden and bulk, taking on a glossy sheen. @{(speciality = 3) It's perhaps two steps short of starting to form your carapace.|} The extra size is heavier, your movements more restricted, but it should be dense enough to handle what you're about to do.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
    
        @{(warninggiven > 0) Alright. Alright. Shake it off. You can handle this.|Alright. Time to do this thing.}
        
        You take a run up and leap into the darkness, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. For two weightless seconds, you're soaring, plunging… and then your body strikes the first ledge. The impact shakes your entire body and you're already rebounding, continuing to fall. Wham, another ledge. Wham, a third.
        
        Wham… and you fall no further.
        
        Taking a second to recombobulate your rattled brains, you sit up and find that you've reached the bottom. With another moment of calming the dizzying rush of adrenaline and excitement slash panic, you determine that you're barely even hurting. Ha, who says diving into a dark pit is dangerous?
        
        There's a thump from nearby. You glance over to see Wyrd, freshly landed and struggling gallantly to contain fits of laughter. "$!{mask}, that has to be the dumbest, coolest thing I've ever seen."
        
        *if ((rel_grant > 74) or (bestie = 4))
            Grant would have reacted the same way.
            
            The thought comes out of nowhere, freezing your triumph cold. You don't even remember your reply.
            
            *goto groundlevel
            
        *else
            *if expressive > 55
                You tuck both an arm and a tendril across your torso and give them a flourishing bow.
                
            *elseif expressive > 45
                You twist one tendril into something like a thumb's up.
                
            *else
                You look away, at once self-conscious and pleased.
                
            Even if they can't see it, you're @{(expressive < 46) smiling.|grinning.}
            
            *goto groundlevel
    *selectable_if (fighting_style = 3) #Hold on, I can use my powers to climb down a little more elegantly than that!
        You're not cannonballing into a swimming pool here; if you recklessly dive off, you could deal yourself some serious damage.
        
        What's the point of enduring years of gruelling training if you're going to ignore every lesson?
        
        Your tendrils are tools and you are the sculptor. You concentrate, from the points they emerge from your shoulders to their very tips, and then begin to shape. Hard claws best suit your needs, and that's the form you will into the tendrils, splitting them apart at their ends, firm and sharp. Before long it's done, and you give the ground an experimental tap with the modifications, receiving a satisfying click. Moving to the chasm's edge, you clamp your new claws there. They dig into the concrete, barely budging when you flex your tendril. Good.
        
        Alright. You're ready.
        
        You step over the edge and begin your descent, attaching yourself to the wall, swinging lower, attaching the other tendril, detaching the first. Though moving around your tendrils like this is unfamiliar, you're practiced enough with them that you soon settle into a good rhythm. Before you know it, a swing is cut abruptly short when your feet touch down partway through. Just like that, you've already reached the ground.
        
        *goto groundlevel
    *selectable_if (speciality = 2) #Roll the dice with my mutations and hope for something helpful.
        *set mutations true
        
        *if juice > 10
            *set juice - 10
            
        Stepping away from the edge because you don't trust your changing body not to hurl you over, you focus on that tight grip you hold around your powers, then relinquish it.
        
        In that very instant, your left shoulder explodes in a shower of ichor and fang. You bite off a cry, dropping to one knee. Rampage and Ghoul move towards you, concerned, but you wave them off with an arm increasingly studded in newly-opening eyes. Closing your regular pair helps a little against the swell of vertigo, but it's a losing battle as your perspective refracts into more and more pieces. Your neck. Your arm some more. Another line of sight forms far above you, dizzying to the point that you nearly fall to the side even from your lowered position. It's an eye at the end of your tendril, you realise, bulbous and misshapen. You choose not to look at it, despite your plethora of options.
        
        The shivering of your other tendril is tame by comparison. It flattens out at the tip, forming an oarlike protrusion. You grimace as a series of wet pops split the surface, fangs pushing from below to stud your expanded tendril.
        
        Slowly you straighten up. Your shoulder wants to yawn open and taste the air. You force it shut. Teeth clack within your chest.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
        
        Breathing gradually steadying, you give your nearby teammates a nod. You think you can make these changes work.
        *page_break
        You stretch out the tendril not currently serving as your own personal crow's nest, getting a feel for its articulation and flexibility. Discovering the tendril doesn't bend the right way while you're halfway down a pit would be a nasty surprise. Then there are the hooked fangs, which should make for a useful climbing tool. Moreso than the extra eyeballs, anyway.
        
        @{(instinctive > 55) Giving your comrades a shrug, you take a hop into the chasm,|Carefully, you sit down at the chasm's edge, dangling your legs over the side. After a quick pause to gather your nerves, you push off and over,} arresting your fall with the tendril's barbs. As expected, they dig easily into the rockface, your tendril comfortably bearing your weight.
        
        Fantastic, this will work.
        
        Through a combination of swinging yourself from ledge to ledge and latching your tendril into the wall whenever there's no readily apparent foothold, you're able to make your way steadily and safely down to the chasm floor.
        *goto groundlevel
    
    
*label groundlevel
*page_break
*if ((footagedestroy) and (alarmlevel = 1))
    *achieve solidsnake
    
One by one—as a pair, in Fracture and Architect's case—the team regroups at the bottom. It's very, very dark down here, and even Architect summoning a small cluster of energy cubes as makeshift lighting does little to pierce the murk. Your surroundings remain shrouded and indistinct, and with the ground underfoot even more damaged than up top, you're forced to place every step with care. At least the chasm widens out. The prospect of close confinement in darkened depths conjures unwelcome memories.

…At times, you wonder if any memories are anything but unwelcome.

With a gesture Architect beckons you all along, guiding the way with more constructs. Silence has fallen across the team as you pick your way through shattered concrete, brick and rebar, twisted metal, and disparate rubble from wrecked buildings. The silence of anticipation.

Perhaps ten minutes later, Architect comes to a stop. "Here," he murmurs. He turns to face you all, gesturing to a familiar pile of stacked stone. "Care to lend me a hand, everyone?"

Between the six of you short work is made of the blockage, exposing there in the wall the selfsame door from the photograph. It's offset some distance up from the ground and despite the devastation all around neither door nor the archway framing it appear to be damaged.

A strange entryway into the unknown, down here in the dark.

There are too many parallels to ignore.
*choice
    #I'm seized by foreboding. Dread.
        It's like you're standing before a portal into some underworld realm.
        
        And you remember—oh how you remember—the last such realm you entered.
        
    #Focus. On. The. Mission.
        That wasn't Alderbrook. That wasn't $!{mask}, and that wasn't your task here tonight.
        
        You repeat that mantra until your head aches.
        
    #I try to picture how this was originally constructed.
        You start theorising in an effort to keep your mind off the subject. You're several tens of feet below street level. Could this have been a sub-basement of an existing building, accessible via elevator? Though with that in mind, you can't see anything resembling even the remnants of an elevator shaft. Perhaps some kind of ladder extending deep into the ground? That seems plausible…
        
        All you can say for sure is that the portal must be sturdy as all hell, to survive intact when all its nearby architecture has been obliterated.

"Oke doke, let's see about cracking this bad boy open," says Wyrd. "Fracture, $!{mask}, you wanna take a stab at it?"

You exchange glances with Fracture@{(rel_teddie < 20) —frankly more of a glower from his end—| }and clamber up what's left of the rubble pile to reach the door. Disturbed by your climb, smaller stones tumble and roll away. Others shift uneasily below your feet. 

Gee, this doesn't feel precarious at all.

Carefully positioning yourself on the opposite side of the door to Fracture, you see that it opens straight down the middle; there's a seam between either half, and each sits in a slot within the doorframe. In that case… you begin working your tendrils into the seam, forcing perhaps half an inch of clearance. Fracture follows suit, wedging a narrow blade of bone into place above your tendrils. With a nod, the two of you begin pulling in opposite directions.

At first, nothing. Months of buried disuse lock the runners in place. Then movement. Just the smallest amount, jolting to a stop almost before it starts. Even so, it's encouragement for you to redouble your efforts. In fits and spurts the door yields, each motion accompanied by the groans and shrieks of tortured metal. Soon enough, you've prised and slid each half fully into its recess.

*page_break The way is open.

Past the door, you see a couple of feet of bare corridor. Beyond, pitch darkness. It almost seems to draw you in, beckoning in familiar voices…

"Good work," says Architect. You snap out of it, realising you'd actually started leaning forward. "Let's proceed with caution."

"Ready for anything, boss," chirps Rampage.

Anything. How broad that is.

Before continuing, Wyrd breaks out a set of flashlights from somewhere in their jacket, handing one to everyone but Architect. You weigh the flashlight in your palm as Wyrd passes it over. Sturdy.
*choice
    #"Dude, how deep are your pockets?"
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
        Wyrd grins. "[i]So[/i] deep. You wouldn't believe me if I told you half the things I've got in here." They shake their jacket for emphasis. Something clinks.
        
        As always with them, it's hard to tell how serious they are.
        
        
    #"This is kind of old school."
        "Well, last I checked none of us have night vision," Wyrd replies with a shrug. "Pays to be prepared."
        
        They're more of a planner than they'd like to let on.
        
    #"Why do we only get these now?"
        *if ((tumble) or (dive))
            Wyrd shrugs. "Cause @{dive some of you think it's an amazing idea to swan dive into a pit?|I can't trust you chuckleheads not to fall down a hole?"}
            
            @{tumble …Okay well [i]rude[/i] but|You grin. Okay,} they've kind of got you there.
            
        *else
            "Couldn't risk lighting the place up. Too many eyes," Wyrd explains.
            
            Fair enough. Might have saved you a lot of stumbling, though.
            
    #it isn't the same. it isn't the same.
        you aren't walking towards death.
        
        these aren't your friends.
        
        you're strong now. not like then.
        
        A hard clench of the flashlight, hard enough to leave an impression of its grooves upon your hand. The sensations serve to ground you, at least for the moment.
        
        Hopefully this'll be quickly over and done with and you can get the hell out of here. 
    
Architect takes point once again, continuing to form and dismiss fresh constructs in full stride, at perfect ease with his powers. Illuminated, the surroundings are plain and unadorned. A bare concrete corridor. Why are you not surprised? A thin layer of grit coats the floor, likely shaken loose during the destruction all those months ago. Small particles swirl in the air, disturbed by your passage and Architect's constructs rising from the ground. Something crunches as you take a step, and you lift your foot to see the glint of broken glass. In fact, on further inspection, more and more glass litters the way forward. Glancing up, you spot a series of strip lights hanging from the ceiling, not a one of them intact.

While you checked the environment Architect has pulled ahead of you. His pace, you realise, has gradually quickened ever since you entered the door. Perhaps he can't help himself with his goal so near.

You speed to catch up, and then he halts so abruptly that you nearly collide with his back. His reason for stopping is immediately evident; an intersection, the passageway splitting three ways. The left and right turns continue on much the same as before, leading off into further darkness. Not so for the straight path; part of the roof has come down, blocking access in a pile of concrete and twisted steel.

Oh good. Underground with an unstable ceiling. The perfect place to be.

The others soon join you at the junction.

*page_break Architect turns to the group.

"Wyrd," says Architect. "Return to the entrance and stand watch."

They blink. "You sure that's a good idea, man?" @{(observation > 36) It's easy to miss how their eyes shade from surprise to calculation.|Their eyes are filled with surprise.}

"Wyrd." Architect's tone brooks no argument. Wyrd holds up their hands in surrender. Architect looks to the rest of you. "Fracture, see if you can do something about the cave-in. Carefully. @{(doubt_architect > 14) Ghoul, Rampage, take the righthand passage. $!{mask}, with me."|$!{mask}, Rampage, take the righthand passage. Ghoul, with me."}

*if (doubt_architect > 14)
    He wants you with him? You wonder what that means.
    
*else
    He's letting you away from him. A sign of trust?
    
"What are we looking for, boss?" asks Rampage.

"Anything. Anything at all." Architect's voice is faraway. After a moment he seems to remember himself. "Ideally, signs of DPR activity. Records of their operations here. Along those lines."

"Got it."

Everyone moves to their orders. You head to @{(doubt_architect > 14) Architect's side. He spares you the barest glance, the most fractional of nods, and starts out ahead of you.|Rampage's side and she favours you with a wink. Apparently she's over her initial nerves.}

*if (doubt_architect > 14)
    *set archkay true
    *choice
        #Strange to see him so eager.
            It's a different kind of eagerness from that first meeting at the hideout. That felt like a person anxious to show you his space, anxious to impress. 
            
            Whatever spurs his steps now, it does so with such intensity that the very air around him seems charged.
            
        #Unnerving, more like.
            It's a different kind of eagerness from that first meeting at the hideout. That was benign, the anxiety of a first time host.
            
            This is more feverish, more desperate. You recall the fervour of his speech yesterday. Is it that hatred spurring his steps?
            
        #Why did he send Wyrd away?
            They're a duo. Wyrd should have more of his trust than anyone else. Is this a sign of tension, or instead a ploy all its own?
            
            Well. You won't get any answers from Architect's retreating back.
            
    He's relentless. You don't doubt he'll simply leave you behind if you dawdle, and hurry your pace to match his. Ahead of you he's constantly scanning left and right, hunting for any secrets the environment may hold. So far, his projections and your flashlight are revealing only more of the corridor stretching further and further in the distance.
    *choice
        #I consider making light of him picking me, but I doubt he'd appreciate that.
            *set expressive %+ 5
            His air is not that of a man who wants to joke around.
            
            Hey, maybe that's why he posted Wyrd on watch.
            
        #Suggest slowing down before we run headlong into danger.
            *set instinctive %- 7
            *set rel_architect +5
            "Aren't we rushing?" you ask. 
            
            His head snaps back to you, but he doesn't break stride. "Time is of the essence."
            
            "We need to have an eye out for security too."
            
            Architect slows, and then inclines his head. A fraction of an inch. "Point taken." He moves on, keeping to that more measured pace.
            
        #He put me in charge before: ask him what changed here.
            "Not letting me lead this time?"
            
            "What? Oh." Architect spares you a glance, but maintains his long strides. "No."
            
            @{(expressive > 50) "And here I thought I was your favourite."|"Any particular reason?"}
            
            @{(expressive > 50) "Don't be foolish. Favouritism shouldn't come into these decisions."|"Yes."} He takes several more steps before adding. "This isn't the time."
            
            Stonewalled. 
        #He's on an absolute mission. There's no point talking to him.
            At best you get ignored. At worst, he'll be annoyed at the interruption.
            
            Keeping your head down has served you well in the past. May as well revert back to type.
            
    The passage takes on a gentle curve, though there's still no change in the general décor—or lack thereof. What does change is Architect. He cocks his head to the side, and then stops, turning back to you. "$!{mask}. Are you whispering?"
    
    You shake your head.
    
    A sharp breath hisses from within his helmet. "Something's wrong." His fists clench. "Someone's here. Watch out."
    *choice
        #"Do we keep going?"
            *label suggestion
            Architect hesitates.
            
            "Doubling back will cost time. However—"
        #"Do we go back to the others?"
            *goto suggestion
        #"Who?"
            "I don't know," Architect says grimly. "It's useless to speculate, we—"
            
        #Wait and see.
            He looks along the passage once again, and then back to you. "We should—"
            
    *goto haunt        
*else
    *choice
        #I envy her.
            It would be nice to be capable of cooling your anxieties, of setting memories to rest. But you're not her.
            
        #How can she possibly be so relaxed?
            You're deep into a place that at least two powerful groups are keeping under wraps, you have no idea where you're going, and apparently any one of these ceilings could collapse at any moment.
            
            @{(expressive > 45) How the actual fuck has she got [i]calmer[/i] as the mission wears on?|It's absurd that she's grown [i]calmer[/i] over time.}
            
        #She needs to take this more seriously.
            *set srs true
            You answer the wink with a silent, eyeless stare. The smile around her eyes fades. @{interest_kay You ignore the guilty pang this evokes.|You nod firmly at her.} Splitting up brings an accordant spike in danger. You both need to be fully focused and ready to act.
            
        #She's actually helping me calm down.
            Her relaxed demeanour puts your own unease into context, helps you properly assess and address your emotions. You're letting the environment and the occasion get to you. This is no worse than anything you've done with the team so far. The tunnels aren't even that similar to…
            
            You catch yourself before you can undo the work with any comparisons.
    
    Walking alongside Rampage is a little odd; she's swinging her flashlight far too much, causing its beam to dip back and forth between your feet and the path ahead. With a brief inspection, you notice that she isn't actually holding the flashlight, instead looping its strap around her wrist to dangle loose. Weird.
    
    A minute or so down a corridor much unchanged from what you've seen so far, Rampage glances at you. "Hey, $!{mask}. What do you think we'll find down here?" @{srs So much for concentrating.|}
    *choice
        #"Couldn't even make a guess."
            "Aww, c'mon. First thing that comes to mind," Rampage wheedles.
            
            You shake your head. @{(instinctive > 55) "I'm no good at that. Always go too ridiculous."|"I'd rather not speculate. If we get our heads set on one thing, then we could catch ourselves offguard."}
            
            @{(instinctive > 55) "Moon base," Rampage says immediately.|"Maan. You and Fracture are exactly like each other, y'know? He's always being all careful about everything."}
                
            @{(instinctive > 55) You're sharing a wavelength. "Basically, yeah."|You nod slightly, though if the only requirement is 'more careful than Rampage', then a lot of people are apparently exactly like Teddie.}  
            
        #"Some kind of lab." It's always a lab.
            A grim note slips into your voice unbidden.
            
            Rampage hesitates, studying you closely. Ah, dammit. "Everything alright?" she asks.
            
            Not for the first time, you're grateful that your membrane so completely hides your expressions.
            
            *choice
                #"Don't worry about it." I try to sound casual.
                    *set rel_kay +3
                    For a moment her expression doesn't change, and then she relaxes. "Sure. You sounded all dour there for a second, y'know?"
                    
                    *if expressive > 60
                        "Just building the atmosphere," you reply with a playfulness you don't feel. Rampage laughs softly.
                        
                    *elseif expressive < 40
                        "Heard that before," you reply. Rampage laughs, then looks guilty.
                        
                    *else
                        "Probably just all this getting to me," you reply, which technically isn't even a lie. She nods.
                        
                #"Why wouldn't it be?"
                    Turning the question back, turning defence into offence. Your barriers are so well-tuned.
                    
                    "I just thought…" She shakes her head. "Never mind, probably imagining things."
                    
                #"I don't want to get into it." I feel the memories closing in around me.
                    *set rel_kay +5
                    You shouldn't even have said that much. It's just… constantly maintaining these barriers, constantly being on guard, pretending you're okay when you're not… it's all so exhausting.
                    
                    "Sure. I get that." She sounds sympathetic. She shouldn't be.
                    
                #I shake my head. "Another time."
                    *set rel_kay +1
                    Another time is of course code for never. You don't think you could ever trust anyone so much. Not anymore.
                    
                    "Sure thing." There's something sympathetic in her eyes. You don't know why.
                    
        #"Society of mole people."
            *set rel_kay %+ 7
            *set expressive %+ 7
            Rampage laughs, then winces as the sound bounces off the walls. "Not in love with these acoustics," she mutters. She tugs at her horns, expression clearing. "Well, onward to meet the mole monarch!"
            
            *choice
                #"Lead the way, diplomat of the Sheep Republic."
                    "Ha… yeah…"  This laugh's certainly not at any risk of echoing. Stuck your foot in your mouth?
                    
                #"I dig that."
                    *set rel_kay %+ 5
                    She manages to suppress another laugh. "Terrible."
                    
                    @{(expressive < 40) Oh. Uh. You hadn't actually meant the pun.|Your genius is so underappreciated.}
                    
                #Nod.
                    *if expressive < 45
                        "Oh, back to all strong and silent now?"
                        
                        Naturally, you nod again.
                        
                    *else
                        You both return your attention to walking.
                
        #"We're probably about to break into someone's basement."
            Rampage makes a doubtful noise. "Dunno about that. This is giving me more 'secret facility' type of vibes, y'know?"
            
            You nod reluctantly. That, perhaps, is a line of thought you'd rather avoid.
            
        #"Whatever it is, Architect's desperate to find out."
            "Gee, yeah, you got that right."
            
            Is this the end goal, or just a step along the path? Only one way to find out.
            
        #Shrug.
            *set expressive %- 7
            Rampage takes the non-answer in complete stride. "You think? Gosh, you're so insightful."
            
            Well, perhaps not [i]complete[/i] stride.
            *choice
                #I'll take it.
                    Just a little banter. You pause for a beat, and then shrug again.
                    
                #Smartass.
                    Unfortunately with your membrane covering your face, you're unable to treat her to the eyeroll she deserves. You settle for folded arms.
            
        #@{srs I ramp the sternness another notch.|This isn't the time for conversation.} I lean in and growl: "Focus."
            *set rel_kay %- 5
            *set instinctive %- 5
            *set srs true
            Rampage flinches back and drops eye contact, staring at somewhere around your shins. "Sorry," she murmurs.
            
            With the atmosphere between you both now rendered thoroughly awkward, you press on. In silence, so at least you've got that.

    *goto kayvoice   
       
*label kayvoice
The passageway begins to take on a gentle curve, though there's still no change in the environment. No décor, no signs of life, not so much as a swept floor.

"You say something?" Rampage suddenly asks. You glance at her and shake your head. She frowns. "Could've sworn…" Stops. "There! You hear that?"

No you do not.
*choice
    #Ask about the sound.
        It isn't sensible to dismiss her out of hand.
        
        "What are you hearing?"
        *set rel_kay +3
        
        "Do you really not…" Her frown deepens. "Someone's speaking. Or like, whispering?"
        
        You try to listen out.
        
    #Suggest she's overreacting.
        She's been all over the place all night.
        
        "You're way too jumpy. Relax."
        *set rel_kay -3
        
        She makes an annoyed noise. "I am not! I hear like, whispering."
        
        You're about to tell her to calm down @{srs again|} then—
        
    #Listen carefully.
        *set rel_kay +3
        Tilting your head, you strain your senses. @{(observation < 30) You're not all that perceptive, maybe you missed something.|You're decently perceptive, you should be able to pick the sound out, if it's there.}
        
        You don't hear anything, and you're about to say as much—
        
*goto haunt
*label haunt

*if (walkiechat)
    @{walkietwo [i]"Come in, Catalyst. There's a situation."[/i]|[i]"Hello. Consider this a polite warning. If you're downstairs, don't be."[/i]}
    
    You go still.
    
    But—
    
    What?
    
    That doesn't—
    
*else
    Singing. Singing in the depths.
    
    You jolt. 
    
    No.
    
    What?
    
    How can—
    
@{archkay "Be silent!" Architect suddenly barks. You flinch. He whirls to you again. "$!{mask}—|"Stop it!" Rampage cries out. You flinch. Rampage swings around, eyes wild. "We gotta—"}
    
*page_break Fog.
It sweeps in faster than you can conceive of, faster than you can call out in warning. One instant, fingers of black fog are swirling about @{archkay Architect's|Rampage's} ankles, the very next, they're flooding the passageway in a rolling, roiling mass. The fog swamps your senses, swallowing @{archkay his|her} voice whole, enveloping you both. @{archkay Architect|Rampage} takes a single step towards you, and then vanishes into the fog.

@{walkiechat Lullaby whispers in your ear no further.|The singing is gone. Lullaby's song.}
*choice
    #Call out.
        No answer.
        
        You take a step in @{archkay his|her} direction. Another.
        
        Nothing.
        
    #@{archkay Architect|Rampage} was right by me! I can reach @{archkay him|her}!
        You wade into the fog, crossing the space to where @{archkay Architect|Rampage} should be.
        
        @{archkay He|She} isn't.
        
    #@{walkiechat That was Lullaby, but I'm not wearing my earbud.|I'd be asleep if that was actually Lullaby.}
        @{walkiechat And those words were familiar. Five years familiar.|But you wouldn't mistake another song for theirs. It's rooted in your mind.}
        
        What did you just hear?
        
        And where the hell is @{archkay Architect? He|Rampage? She} was so close, and now there's no sign.
        
The fog clings to you, its chill seeping through your membrane and into your bones. Your flashlight fails to permeate the swirling barrier by even an inch, the black mist so thick you can barely see your hand in front of your face.

This is nothing natural.
*choice
    #Press forward. That's the only option.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        Whether defence mechanism or parahuman influence, your mission remains the same. There's fog ahead and behind. May as well move forward.
        
        *label alongthewall
        You begin feeling your way along the wall. At least you only have the one path to follow. As you move, the fog almost seems to grasp and tug at your body, as if attempting to bar passage.
        
        *goto growl
    #I'm in grave danger. Turn back.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        You don't know what kind of defence or parahuman ability you've triggered, and that alone should be a massive alarm bell. Not knowing your enemy is a fast track route to deep trouble. You'd know.
        
        Retreating is the smartest play.
        
        *goto alongthewall
        
    #Stay put. @{archkay Architect|Rampage} will find me.
        Stumbling around blindly sounds like a terrible idea. Your best chance is to stick with your companion. Just as soon as you reunite with @{archkay him|her}.
        
        Yeah.
        
        Minutes tick by without hide nor hair of @{archkay Architect|Rampage}. The fog doesn't abate. If anything, it's growing yet thicker, coiling around you like chains.
        
        *label growl
        Close to your ear, something growls.
        
        *if expressive > 45
            You shout in alarm and break into a run.
            
        *elseif expressive > 35
            Letting out a strangled cry, you break into a run.
            
        *else
            You barely clamp down your shout of alarm and break into a run.
            
Fear, self-preservation, instinct, take your pick. You're moving, and moving fast. That, too, was a sound you've heard before, a sound that stalks your dreams.

You know it can't be here. It absolutely can't, but your rational brain isn't in charge as you flee along the corridor with the beast upon your heels.

*page_break Door!?
            
It looms up so quickly you don't get a chance to react. You have the brief impression of an open doorframe and all of a sudden, the fog parts before you and you're hurtling into a mid-sized square room.

You skid to a halt, instantly whirling around. Beyond the door you just charged through, the passage is blanketed in a thick wall of fog. Somehow, it stops right at the threshold of this new room, as if blocked by some kind of invisible barrier. You don't enjoy the implications.

Nothing seems to be in pursuit. No monster bursts from the fog. No Project. You wait thirty seconds, a minute. Two. Still nothing.

Slowly, you lower your guard from maximum to high. Whatever that was—Project or spectre—it doesn't appear to have followed you. Best to take stock.

Where are you now? You realise belatedly that your surroundings are bathed in a dim light, not quite enough to dispel the shadows. There's power here. Does that mean you've reached the goal, despite everything? At a first, even a second glance, you're not sure; the room is stacked with all kinds of boxes and shelves, with various objects scattered over the floor. Nothing you can properly make out in this gloom. You'll have to conduct a proper search.

Still no sign of @{archkay Architect|Rampage}, or anyone else for that matter. Not much you can do about it; they'll need to take care of themselves. For now, you resolve to concentrate on what's in front of you, and turn around to begin investigating.

What comes next steals your breath and turns your blood to ice.

*page_break "Well, well, well, look who's here."
You know that voice.

*choice
    #I look. I have to look.
    #I don't want to look, but my head seems to turn of its own accord.
    #I shouldn't look, and look anyway.
    *selectable_if (rel_prii = 100) #I don't look. I won't.
        *bug you shouldn't be able to get here! this is unavailable on purpose.

They're sitting on a metal crate, casual as you like, legs neatly crossed and a video camera resting at their side. The brown waves of their hair stick up in dishevelled spikes. They always did get the worst hat hair.
*choice
    #"P...Prii?"
        "That's my name, don't wear it out." They wink.
        
    #"But... but you're..."
        "I'm what?" They wink.
        
    #I can't speak.
        "Cat got your tongue?" They wink.
        
    *selectable_if (rel_prii = 100) #This is impossible.
        *bug you shouldn't be able to get here! this is unavailable on purpose.
    
Hazel eyes. But that's… wrong, isn't it?

Prii watches you, lips curled in a smile at once familiar and alien. "Been a while, $!{mc_name}."

*if (pseudonym)
    Hearing your @{nickname nickname|real name} after all this time lands like a punch to the jaw.
    
*else
    For a little while, you'd thought you were growing accustomed to hearing your @{nickname nickname|real name} again. Turns out you're not even close.

*if (prev_li = "Prii")
    
    *if (brokenheart = 2)
        Your heart's ripping open anew. Seeing them is—
        
        *if (dated_prii)
            A hundred different things. Every loaded glance and affectionate word. Every date and every afternoon in their company. Every smile and laugh and every moment you shared.
            
        *else
            A hundred different things. It's all the words you never said. It's @{confession desperately telling them at the very final opportunity.|The feelings you never shared.} All the time spent pining and hesitating and doubting they could ever feel the same way.
            
        Each forms a serrated little blade, reversed and then plunged into your chest. Again and again and again.
        
    *elseif (dated_prii)
        Old wounds burst open, your heart bleeding with a familiar ache.
        
        Scars like these never heal, only fade.
        
    *else
        All the words you never said spring into your mind. All the regrets at @{confession leaving it until it was too late, until you'd already lost them.|never building the courage to tell them your feelings.}
        
    *choice
        #Tears start falling and won't stop.
            Sorrowful tears pierce your membrane, roll down your featureless face. That floodgate, now opened, simply won't close. You begin sobbing, great gasps that wrack your entire body.
            
            *label priithematter
            "What's the matter, $!{mc_name}?" Prii asks. "All come rushing back? Remembered @{ditched how you left me to die back there?"|your sorry excuse for defending me and Shauna?"}
            
            It's like they're slamming a dagger into your chest.
            *choice
                #@{ditched "I... that's not what..."|"I... I did everything I could."}
                    @{ditched "We both know it's true."|"Which wasn't much. You just had to be a hero, didn't you?"}
                    
                    Guilt robs you of a response. You've inevitably blamed yourself at times, and to have it laid so directly at your feet leaves you dumbstruck.
                    
                    *goto prii2
                #I say nothing, tears flowing unabated.
                    Even if you had an argument against their words, you're drowning in a tide of blood and pain, your tears mingling to plunge you ever deeper.
                    
                    "This is a little pathetic, really," says Prii, giving you a pitying look. "Falling apart just from seeing me? No wonder you couldn't save anyone." 
                    
                    *goto prii2
                #"I'm sorry." A hoarse whisper.
                    "Oh, well, that's fine then," Prii says sardonically. "Suppose the others will magically pop up alive and well now that you've apologised." They shake their head. "Pathetic."
                    
                    *goto prii2
                *if (not (ditched)) #"Don't bring Shauna into this."
                    "Why shouldn't I? She needed you, but you just had to be a hero. Fight the monster." Prii snorts. "That turned out great, huh?"
                    
                    You remember her screams. How she begged for help. You feel sick.
                    
                    *goto prii2
                *selectable_if (brokenheart = 2) #All the worst and darkest shards of my shattered heart reflect back at me.
                    *label shards
                    Those moments of abject despair, when losing Prii wracked you with such pain you contemplated stopping it by the only means available to you.
                    
                    The times where you wondered if what you were going through was a punishment for letting them die. Wondered if you'd ever laugh, ever [i]feel[/i] anything but grief again.
                    
                    Those shards hold the suffocating guilt of daring to think you could recover from Prii. They hold madness, they hold the urge to invert this agony and wreak it upon everything around you.
                    
                    How could you move on, when chains are hooked upon your heart? You're bound to Prii in more ways than one.
                    *choice
                        #I force myself away from those damaged, warped pieces of my psyche.
                            *set repairs +1
                            You dredge yourself up from the dark pit, shut the lid of the box before its contents can escape to swallow you whole.
                            
                            Repairing your heart won't come through ignoring it, but nor will indulging that pain restore anything.
                            
                            Prii watches you with unblinking eyes. Yellow. Deep black pupils.
                            
                            You've grieved, you've mourned—no, you're still grieving and mourning. Maybe to an extent you always will. That's okay.
                            
                            What's not is allowing yourself to wallow and drown.
                            
                            Prii sits backward upon their perch. "Nothing to say? I guess you really didn't care all that much."
                            *goto prii2
                        #I feast deep on my pain. I too am shards.
                            *set psycho +1
                            Why shy away from that?
                            
                            You're broken in a way you don't know is fixable. This ride's on the same tracks whether you like it or not. May as well indulge along the way.
                            
                            There's so much blood in this torn heart of yours. You never considered having a taste.
                            
                            Prii blinks, something uncertain in their eyes. Yellow. Deep black pupils. You feel yourself smile.
                            
                            "You're pretty messed up, aren't you, $!{mc_name}?" they murmur. "Suppose that's what guilt does to a person." When did @{speciality those plantlike growths begin spreading over them?|the horns begin sprouting from their head?|that bark begin to spread across their face?|}
                            
                            You shrug. You can't tell whether you're crying or laughing. "I don't have to listen to you."
                            
                            Prii laughs, soft. "You don't [i]want[/i] to listen to me."
                            
                            You shake your head. "Thing is…"
                            *goto fromthetop
                *selectable_if (rel_prii = 100) #Prii would never say something like that.
                        *bug this is inaccessible on purpose!
        #I'm too choked with emotion to say anything.
            So many regrets. So many pleas.
            
            All the years of loss, all the years wondering what you could, should have done differently.
            
            Stranded in this tempestuous sea. You can barely breathe, let alone talk.
            
            *goto priithematter
        #I desperately want to @{touchingokay embrace them,|rush over to them,} and it's all I can do to hold myself back.
            This situation may be breaking what's left of your heart, and to hold back may be grinding those remnants into the dirt, but that's all the more reason not to let your emotions call the shots. 
            
            Your judgement is compromised, you know it's compromised, and that if nothing else gives you pause. You can't trust yourself to make a sensible decision here.
            
            "Looking a little forlorn there, $!{mc_name}," says Prii. "It's okay, you can come closer. I won't bite."
            *choice
                #Before I can stop myself, I take a faltering step forward.
                    *set instinctive %+ 7
                    Prii. Prii. Prii.
                    
                    You've missed them so much.
                    
                    You take that step. Then the next.
                    
                    Prii shifts, eyes lit up with anticipation. They open their arms.
                    
                    You hesitate.
                    
                    There's something predatory in their expression. Something hungry.
                    
                    You stop. Prii continues offering that embrace for several seconds, and then lowers their arms with a shake of the head.
                    
                    *goto stayput
                #I mutely shake my head.
                    *set expressive %- 7
                    *goto stayput
                #"Fine where I am, thanks."
                    *label stayput
                    *if ((romance_wil > 1) or (catchingfeelings))
                        "Damn, that's cold. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, @{catchingfeelings you're catching feelings all over the place. I'm old news, right?|considering your new goth squeeze.}"
                        
                        *if (romance_wil > 1)
                            *goto howwil
                        
                        *else
                            *goto thecatch
                        
                    *else
                        "Damn, that's cold." Prii sighs. "Guess you're over it, huh? @{(pastcrush = 2) Just an old crush.|Nothing serious between us, after all."}
                        
                        *goto thedagger
            
        #"I... I missed you so much."
            *if (romance_wil > 1)
                "Not enough to stop yourself swooning over that goth friend of yours," Prii says, derisive.
                
                *label howwil
                Wil—that's—how do they even know about ${whim}? @{(brokenheart = 2) And, and they're wrong. It was thoughts of them that stopped you taking even that step towards beginning something with Wil. |}
                
                *label protestprii
                "Prii, I—"
                
                They shake their head. "No, no, I get it. You've moved on from little old me. @{(pastcrush = 2) Just a crush, right?|Wasn't like you were serious about me.}"
                
                *label thedagger
                It's like they're slamming a dagger into your chest.
                *choice
                    #"@{(pastcrush = 2) It wasn't just a crush!|Of course I was serious!} I was crazy about you, Prii!"
                        You hear the desperation entering your voice. Their recriminations are almost more than you can bear.
                        
                        "Who are you trying to convince?" Prii raises an eyebrow.
                        
                        "I—" Somehow, the question catches you short. Them, of course. Except your own doubts give that the lie, don't they? They prey on your mind, make you wonder just how much you truly cared. @{ditched You leapt to their defence, but what difference did that make?|You left them, after all.}
                        
                        "Thought so." They wink. Yellow. Jet black pupil.
                        
                        *goto prii2
                    #"That doesn't mean I don't still care."
                        "Is that what you tell yourself?" Prii raises an eyebrow.
                        
                        "I never stopped," you murmur. Otherwise, from whence springs this bone-deep pain?
                        
                        "You sure are committed to this," Prii muses. "It's okay, you can tell the truth. I won't hold it against you." They wink. Yellow. Jet black pupil. "Much."
                        
                        *goto prii2
                    *selectable_if (brokenheart = 2) #All the worst and darkest shards of my shattered heart reflect back at me.
                        *goto shards
                    #My protests die on my lips.
                        What defence can you mount against an assault from within and without? Every word sharpens the blades of your own doubt, piercing ever deeper.
                        
                        "Nothing to say? Figures."
                        
                        "…" You lower your eyes to the floor.
                        
                        "Don't you look away." Prii's voice is so sharp you can't help but jerk your head back up. Their eyes are bright and burning. Yellow. Deep black pupils. "@{ranaway Still running, huh? What a joke.|You don't get to pretend I'm not here."}
                        
                        *goto prii2
                    *selectable_if (rel_prii = 100) #Prii would never say something like that.
                        *bug this is inaccessible on purpose!
                
            *elseif (catchingfeelings)
                "Not [i]that[/i] much, clearly," Prii says, eyes narrowing. "You've been catching feelings all over the place."
                
                *label thecatch
                @{(brokenheart = 2) Every ounce of guilt over those affections crashes back upon you, driving those blades deeper still.| What? How could they even know about that?}
                
                *goto protestprii
            *else
                "Why?" Prii tilts their head. "I've never been far away."
                
                That's a punch straight to the gut, annihilating the breath from your body.
                
                *goto prii2
        
*else
    You're frozen in place. Your@{(bestie =2)  best | }friend, just as you remember them.
    
    No.
    
    Just as you [i]want[/i] to remember them.
    *choice
        #"You died. I saw you die."
            @{didntsee "You saw me dead," Prii corrects mildly. |}"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything,@{didntsee  though,"|" says Prii.}
                
            @{(expressive > 40) "It has everything to do with—everything!" you burst out. They can't be serious.|"I'd say it's relevant considering we're standing here talking," you say with remarkable calm, given the circumstances.}
            
            Prii—you don't know if you can describe their expression as a smile—looks at you. "If you say so."
            
            What does that even mean?
                
        #"This doesn't make any sense."
            Prii shrugs. "Does anything, nowadays?"
            
            You're an undercover supervillain working for a parahuman scientist chasing a government cover-up.
            
            They may have a point.
    
        #"How could you tell it was me?"
            You're fully membraned. Prii never saw you like this.
            
            "Psh, you think I wouldn't know you? With everything we share?" Prii raises an eyebrow. "A step behind as usual, $!{mc_name}." 
            
            They may as well have said nothing.
            
        #"What the hell are you?"
            "Aw, come on, $!{mc_name}. That any way to talk to an old friend?"
            
            You shake your head tightly. Whatever you're talking to right now, it's not Prii. 


    "So, what have you been up to?" Prii continues casually. "Got that supervillain gig going?" Their eyes light up. Yellow. Deep black pupils. "Hey, befriending people and then selling them out when it counts… you're pretty good at that, $!{mc_name}!"
    *choice
        #"I didn't abandon you guys! Never." @{ranaway My voice trembles. I remember fleeing.|}
            *if (ranaway)
                Prii crows out a laugh. "Are you for real, $!{mc_name}? We both know you scurried off like a frightened rat."
                
                @{guilt "I… that doesn't mean…" Words fail you. How are you supposed to argue against the facts?|"It was the only option," you say, voice weak even to your own ears. You've tried to justify it to yourself so many times.|"I… I tried to go back! I did!" Your protests sound thin, fragile, desperate. Yeah, you turned back. Only after running.}
                
                @{guilt They don't even have to speak to break your argument. They just sit there looking at you.|"Of course." They nod. "Conveniently, the [i]only[/i] choice was the one that saved your own skin. Weird how that works."|"Keep telling yourself that," they reply with another laugh.}
                
                *goto realiseshake
                
            *else
                "Yeah, yeah," says Prii, waving a hand dismissively. "That's why you're nobly striving to protect our memory even now." They pause. "Oh, what's that? You mean you're licking the boot of the guy responsible for it all? Eh, I'm sure that counts. If you squint."
                
                *label realiseshake
                You realise you're shaking. It's every insecurity of the past five years slamming into you at once.
                
                @{ranaway "You know, I'm surprised you haven't run off yet, $!{mc_name}. It's your speciality."|"What a sorry excuse for a friend you are, $!{mc_name}."}
                
                You can feel yourself spiralling, falling ever deeper. Prii's shadow seems to loom over you. It's so very red. When did @{speciality those plantlike growths begin spreading over them?|the horns begin sprouting from their head?|that bark begin to spread across their face?|}
                
                *label whendidp
                *choice
                    #The snare is tightening around my neck.
                        You're a rabbit twisting within a trap.
                        
                        The noose constricts, allowing less and less opportunity for escape.
                        
                        Deep breath, while you're still able to draw it.
                        
                        Then one, more, attempt.
                        
                        *goto fromthetop
                    #I need to hold on to what I know. That this simply isn't possible.
                        Something is deeply wrong here. Amidst the storm of emotions and memories, your only recourse is to cling to the truth, no matter how much it hurts.
                        
                        Your @{(prev_li = "Prii") love|friend} is long dead. Whatever the person in front of you may be, there's one simple fact to hold.
                        *goto fromthetop
                    *selectable_if (repairs != 1) #I'm helpless, tossed by endless waves of guilt and sorrow.
                        *set facezone true
                        *set amlvl +1
                        The membrane ripples and wavers. Every possible lifeline slips through your grasp as you're swept further and further from emotional harbour.
                        
                        You've long known that it's not only your powers capable of gnawing you to pieces inside to out. Here then, is a reminder.
                        
                        The room, your surroundings, Prii, all swim in and out of focus. Prii simply looks on, watches you drown in your own guilt.
                        
                        You're dimly aware of tears rolling down your cheeks, burning hot. Of cool air touching your face.
                        
                        Your… real face.
                        
                        That's the shock your system needs. That's where your flailing hand snatches at an anchor and holds fast.
                        
                        You don't take a deep breath, you [i]can't[/i] take a deep breath, but you can focus on the person in front of you and speak the truth of that desperate lifeline.
                        *goto fromthetop
                
        #"You think I'm happy with the life I lead?"
            It's not anger in your voice. It's not any one emotion, rather an outpour. All your convoluted feelings flooding from you. These past years have been misery upon pain upon misery. Even now that you've left your imprisonment, you're no more free than before.
            
            Prii shrugs. "You have a life. Puts you ahead of the curve for our intrepid gang of AdVenturers."
            
            Is it a trade you'd have accepted, given the offer? All you've been through, just for the sake of survival? There must be some sense of self-preservation buried deep inside of you, or else you'd walk away, let your powers destroy you slowly.
            
            *goto realiseshake
        #"I'm just trying to stay alive here."
            "Alright for some," says Prii. "Don't you think it's a little pathetic, rolling over like a dog for the guy who did this to you in the first place? You must really value the table scraps you get crawling along down there."
            
            *goto realiseshake
        *selectable_if (inform1 > 4) #"I'm not selling them out, and I didn't sell you guys out either."
            Prii tilts their head. "You think they'll see it that way when they learn the truth?"
            
            "I…" Of course they won't. Withholding your report makes you no less of a spy.
            
            Prii shrugs. "Eh, not like it matters. Your master will beat the information out of you. If you don't bark like a dog the second he asks." You flinch, the words landing like physical blows.
            
            *goto realiseshake
            
            
*label prii2    

The shadows are so very dark. So very red.
*page_break
*set priistatus 4
You realise you're shaking. Hearing your insecurities from [i]their[/i] mouth turns sorrow to agony, burning white hot.

Prii regards you, their expression utterly blank. "Look at you tremble," they say, dripping scorn. "We haven't even got into how low you've sank to save your own skin. Barking on a leash for the man responsible for it all. Spineless."

You flinch, their words landing like physical blows. When did @{speciality those plantlike growths begin spreading over them?|the horns begin sprouting from their head?|that bark begin to spread across their face?|}

*goto whendidp
    
*label fromthetop
*page_break "You. Aren't. Prii."

The words resound through the room. For a moment, the shadows are a little brighter.

You each stare across at the other. Ten seconds. Twenty.

They speak.

"Mm, so let's take this from the top." Prii's mouth forms a smile crueller than they ever wore in life. "Why can't I be me?" @{speciality They brush a thumb over the flower budding across their cheek.|They tap a thumb idly at the base of one of their horns.|Their fingers tap rhythmically upon the bark layering their cheek.|DUMMY} The smile widens into something truly horrible. "And don't say 'it doesn't make sense' or 'you're dead' or whatever. Why [i]exactly[/i], $!{forename}."

The words lodge in your throat.

[i]'Because you fought a monster to protect us'[/i]

[i]'Because I @{didntsee saw what was left of your body'|saw you getting ripped to pieces'}[/i]

"It's not either of those, right?" Prii whispers, face twitching spasmodically.

*page_break "...Because how else would I have your powers?"

[i]Three days.[/i]

[i]That's how long it takes the Project to finish eating them.[/i]

[i]You have a front row seat from the cell next door. Even if you close your eyes and bury your face in your hands, there's no shielding your ears from the snap and crunch of bone, the tearing of flesh and sinew. When the beast isn't hungry, it prowls ceaselessly at the boundary between cells, its innumerable eyes locked on you. A set of slender bars is all that keeps you from becoming its next meal. Sometimes, it pushes a tail or paw between the gaps, its many jaws slavering as it reaches for you inside your tiny stone box. More than once, you contemplate leaving your spot pressed against the wall and feeding yourself to the monster. At least then it would all be over.[/i]

[i]After the Project is done with Prii, the handlers toss @{alive Shauna's|Grant's} body into its cage. @{alive She|He} doesn't last as long. The Project already has a taste for @{alive her|him}.[/i]

[i]With the creature so thoroughly sated, just a burst of Lullaby's song lulls it into slumber. By now, you recognise the voice that dragged you into sleep on that night. @{walkiechat The voice on the radio.|} You shake off the urge to close your eyes and lay down, approaching the bars of your cell to see a shaven-headed man with dark skin extracting several tubes of murky purple blood. He glances in your direction, catching you looking, and you shrink back. The first of many, many beatings still blooms vibrant upon your skin, a parting gift of his… thorough welcome.[/i]

[i]He raises the syringe. "Going in you next, kid. Hope it hurts."[/i]

*page_break [i]It does.[/i]

Prii, your @{(prev_li = "Prii") love and your heart,|dear friend,} reduced to little more than a handful of gnawed bones. Monster feed.

Prii, who ignited to powers that your own reflect as a dark and twisted mirror.

Prii, who can't in a thousand years truly be standing here talking to you.

Standing… when did they stand? When did they cross the room? When did one of their arms become a ragged, bloodless stump?

"Knew you'd get there eventually." Their smile has locked into a rictus. "Too bad you didn't have what it takes to ignite. Maybe we'd all be alive. Maybe you wouldn't be our murderer's lapdog."
*choice
    #They want to play on my feelings? I'll show them feeling!
        *if (expressive > 69)
            "Hey, you know what?" you say. "Fuck you and fuck your judgement." Prii blinks, starts to respond. You cut them off. "You show up wearing their face, use their voice, mess with my emotions? I don't know if you looked in my head or you're using a power or this is some kind of whacked out hallucination and honestly, I don't even fucking care. I @{(prev_li = "Prii") loved Prii|cared about Prii}, and you dare, you fucking dare use them like this?" Your voice trembles with rage. "I want you to know something. You made a mistake pissing me off, whatever you are. I'll fucking kill you."
            
            Not-Prii wavers in the face of your unbridled anger. They're open, and you immediately throw a huge punch at them.
            
            *label swing
            Perhaps predictably, your hand passes straight through, your momentum carrying you a couple of steps past them.
            
            There's a dark chuckle from behind you. "Whoops." You whirl around. Somehow, Not-Prii is right up to your face. Their breath reeks of decay, decay and blood.
            
            @{ins ""Nice try." They smirk. "Before I go, $!{mc_name}, I want you to remember something."|"You'll kill me? That might be a little difficult, $!{mc_name}. Remember…"} An awful, mocking wink. "I'll always be a part of you."
            *goto priivanish
            
        *else
            Rage boils within, as do grief, loss, pain. You need only let them out.
            
            Perhaps, though, such disparate emotions aren't a boon. It's too raw, too [i]much[/i], and you choke on the anger, the sorrow overwhelms, the pain drowns. You stumble over your words, and all you manage is a low, keening howl.
            
            *label failureprii
            *set scan true
            *set amlvl +1
            "Ssh," Prii whispers. Their hand touches your cheek. Ice cold. As their fingers dance along your cheekbone, your jawline, their chill spreads to you bone deep, freezing you rigid. "There we go," they hum, running a hand across your head. @{touchingokay |You desperately want to jerk back, and cannot.}
            
            Your whole body feels heavy. Leaden arms and feet of stone. Even your eyelids begin to droop. Prii slides an arm around your back and lowers your unresisting form to the floor. They gaze down at you, and for a moment there's something almost affectionate in their expression, in the fond quirk of their lips.
            
            They lean in over you, hands on their knees, face right up to yours. Their breath reeks of decay, decay and blood. "Don't forget, $!{mc_name}: I'll always be a part of you." An awful, mocking wink.
            
            *goto priivanish2
    #I harden my heart, calling upon every ounce of calm in my body.
        *if (expressive < 31)
            Prii—this spectre of Prii—is attacking your emotions, sowing pain and doubt. There's only one solution.
            
            Cut off your emotions.
            
            You close your eyes. When you reopen them, you've immersed yourself beneath a tranquil lake, frozen the surface solid. Untouchable.
            
            There's not a twitch in your expression as you unflinchingly meet Not-Prii's gaze. First, they fidget. Then, they falter.
            
            "What are you…" they mutter. "No, that isn't…" They shake their head angrily.
            
            You don't move. You feel nothing. Stone doesn't react. Stone doesn't feel.
            
            *label composure
            After a brief impasse, Not-Prii seems to regain their composure. "Fine. Be that way. But remember this, $!{mc_name}…" They lean in close. Their breath reeks of decay, decay and blood. "I'll always be a part of you." An awful, mocking wink.
            *goto priivanish
        *else
            Calm. Calm calm calm calm.
            
            You close your eyes, still your mind, immerse yourself in a placid lake. Tranquillity takes the fore as you shield yourself behind your eyes.
            
            Then you reopen them, and your emotions reconnect like a fork jammed into the mains. Who were you trying to kid? Calm, when your lost @{(prev_li = "Prii") love|friend} is standing close enough to touch, accusation in their eyes? 
            
            You make a noise. It might be a whimper.
           
            *goto failureprii
    #Let my instincts take the reins. I can't trust my thoughts.
        *if (instinctive > 69)
            *set ins true
            Your brain's got way too many doubts to get anything done.
            
            So, about time you hand things off to your gut, right? You tune yourself to radio instinct. 
            
            That's not Prii, therefore some kind of trick, therefore an enemy, therefore—
            
            You lunge at them a solid second before the thought you're doing so actually crosses your mind.
            
            *goto swing
        *else
            Right. Let instinct take the wheel. That's easy.
            
            Usually.
            
            When you don't have a dozen contradictory impulses grappling for the wheel.
            
            You want to punch them. You want to run. You want to give voice to your grief. It all muddles together in a snarl of second guesses, doubts, and hesitation, and you just can't detach your brain enough from the mess in order to act decisively.
            
            "Prii…" Half a dozen words fight to be the next part of your sentence. You fall silent.
            
            *goto failureprii
    #Force myself to be rational, no matter how difficult it is.
        *if (instinctive < 31)
            There's comfort in dreams and stories, in letting yourself believe in the miraculous and the incredible. Logic is cold, hard, and often painful.
            
            The venom in Prii's words only carries such a sting because it accompanies the slender, fluttering hope that Prii is alive and well and here with you now.
            
            But no matter how tender, how comforting, a lie remains a lie.
            
            You allow reason to snuff out hope, and with its demise, you see clearly. This isn't Prii, so why should you pay them any mind?
            
            As if reading your thoughts, Prii scowls. "You can't just ignore me."
            
            You shrug your shoulders, indicating you're fully prepared to do just that. They bare their teeth. You stare them down.
            
            *goto composure
        *else
            All you have to do is put logic in the driver's seat. Think this through properly, use that to come up with a plan of action.
            
            Yet your emotions so cloud your thoughts, your gut wrenching one way, your heart another, that you find you can't even settle on the facts, let alone your course. Stray impulses continually interrupt you on your reach towards reason, sowing fresh doubts and concerns.
            
            Time, you need more time. More information. Then you can make a decision. "The real Prii would—" you start, then stop. But would a test even help? They know more than a fake should—
            
            *goto failureprii
    *selectable_if (prev_li = "Prii") #I concentrate on my feelings for them and remember the reality of the person I love.
        Prii was genuine, enthusiastic, affectionate. @{dated_prii They were magnetic, they were kind. They always knew how to raise your mood—raise everyone's mood.|You weren't stuck on them because they happened to be good-looking, you were stuck on them for their personality. Their magnetism. Their kindness.} You could go on for hours and hours, filled with the warmth that their memory brings. You don't have to. Because looking at this… mockery of Prii, there's one more truth to ring.
        
        They were your ray of sunshine, and you believe with all your @{(brokenheart = 2) wounded heart|heart} that these vicious words aren't theirs.
        
        "Maybe you're right," you whisper. "But I'm not listening to a fake."
        
        *goto notprii
    *selectable_if (bestie = 2) #I fight through the pain and the guilt and remind myself that the real Prii would never treat me this way.
        Prii always cared. Always looked out for you, @{dated_prii even before you became an item|even just as friends}. They were motivated, genuine, and enthusiastic. A leader. They would chide others when needed, but never without cause, and always in the service of something good. They held your group together. More than that, they made you all better.
        
        "Prii @{dated_prii loved me, just like I loved them,|was my best friend,}" you whisper. "And they wouldn't blame me."
        
        *label notprii
        Not-Prii's smile wavers. "Bye bye guilty conscience, just like that? We both know it's not that easy."
        
        "My guilt's between me and the others. I know who Prii really was." Your voice strengthens as you speak, fuelled by conviction. "You're a bad imitation of a wonderful person."

        They scowl, but shift abruptly to a smile. "Closer than you want to believe, $!{mc_name}. There's something important you should remember." They lean in close. Their breath reeks of decay, decay and blood. "I'll always be a part of you." An awful, mocking wink.
        *goto priivanish
        

*label priivanish2
*page_break Your eyes slip closed...
*if (node)
    [i]eat!![/i]
    
    …then instantly snap back open as sharp teeth clamp onto your thigh. Hard.
    
    Yelping in surprise and pain you catapult off the ground, sending the node flying with an aggrieved squawk. Scrambling to your feet, you whirl left, right, front, and back, completing two full revolutions before properly registering that Not-Prii has vanished. You're alone here.
    
    Well. Apart from the little friend that scuttles back over to you, looking as sullen as anything with no eyes or face can be.
    *choice
        #"You did good, buddy."
            [i]us.[/i]
            
            It… wiggles. You get a faint sense of satisfaction back along your connection as it scurries over and clings to your leg.
            
        #"Sorry, but that hurt, you know?"
            The node scurries onto your leg. Apparently all is forgiven.
            
            Occasionally you wonder at your propensity to talk to creatures that are essentially detachable chunks of your own flesh, but you've got to socialise somewhere, right?
            
        #"Why didn't you bite [i]them?[/i]"
            [i]prey. none. eat. none. us[/i]
            
            You frown, regarding the little glob of hunting instincts on the ground.
            
            There wasn't a peep from it throughout your talk with Not-Prii. It's unlike a node to be that calm with a stranger in the neighbourhood. Could it have sensed its own progenitor? Or did it sense nothing at all?
            
        #I'm too busy trying to regain my composure to pay it any mind.
            Your legs are weak, your breath shaky. You don't want to know what would have happened if you'd fully succumbed. You try in vain to steady yourself, but it's a losing effort. You know you'll be jumping at shadows for a while.
            
            The node chitters and scurries onto your leg.

    *goto nounderstand
*else
    *if investigations > 1
        *set investigations -1
                    
    Mercifully, you do not dream.
    
    You return to awareness sprawled out on your back. Snapping upright in an instant, rapid glances in every direction confirm you're in the same place you passed out. Of Not-Prii, there is no sign.
    
    Checking yourself over with sight and touch turns up nothing untoward, which means less than you'd like. What you can't see or touch can still hurt you. The sole, slender consolation is that your membrane remains intact, meaning you can't have been out for long. You know—courtesy of an experiment Catalyst was delighted to execute—that your powers don't sustain indefinitely while you're unconscious. 

    *label nounderstand
    You don't know how to handle your experience here. You barely understand it. The phantom touch of Not-Prii's fingers still crawls across your face, @{touchingokay cold as the grave.|sending a fresh shudder through you. Ironically, that broken boundary may be the best reassurance so far that the Prii you just saw wasn't real. They'd never deliberately cross that line.}
    *goto priireact
*label priivanish        
*page_break And they vanish.

You stand there alone, gently swaying.

Every memory you've tried so desperately to suppress is rushing back. Every moment of that night. Every opportunity to turn back and save yourselves. @{walkiechat The warning|The unease} you failed to heed. Opening a door to the depths of a nightmare. Grant taking the blow meant for you.

Prii igniting, @{speciality blooming with life, sprouting plantlike versions of the nodes. Really, it's the other way around.|erupting with their explosive changes. Would theirs have been more controlled than yours? Tameable?|fortified with bark armour. Organic, filled with life. Natural.|DUMMY} Your abilities are nothing more than a corrupted copy. Siphoned, stolen power.
*label priireact
*choice
    #I'm shaken to my core. I need a moment.
        Unless you clear your head, you'll be a liability to the mission. And, to cut yourself some [i]rare[/i] slack, it's more than reasonable for you not to be on top form right now.
        
        Half a decade, you've spent locking this all up in its own boxes. Not truly processing and certainly not handling it, just getting the memories and emotions contained for the sake of your own sanity. Over one short conversation, every box has burst open and scattered across the floor.
        
        It's five full minutes before your hands stop trembling.
        
    #The best thing to do is quickly move along.
        *set expressive %- 7
        *if (scan)
            @{node Although the node prevented you from losing too much time, you were still delayed.|You have no idea how much time you lost while you were out.} Every minute counts.
            
        *else
            This whole encounter ate up a lot of time, a resource in short supply, lest you forget.
            
        Combined with getting separated from your team and losing your way back in the fog, the disadvantages continue to build. You can unpack everything with Prii later, the mission isn't going to wait on you and your ghosts.

    #Fuck. I miss them so much.
        *if brokenheart = 2
            The longing, soul-deep ache is as acute as it ever was, perhaps even cresting a new peak.
            
            @{(repairs = 1) Or perhaps rounding a corner. There's something new, mixed in with all the pain. Something a little lighter. For now, it's all too raw and recent to unpack. You'll have other opportunities to reflect.|Seeing Prii, or Prii's image, is like losing them all over again.}
            
            *label allyoucan
            All you can do is make your best effort not to let their memory be tainted by this vengeful spectre. You know the real Prii, and that's enough.
            
            It has to be enough.
        
        *elseif prev_li = "Prii"
            You'd managed to get your feelings for Prii into a decent place. A [i]bearable[/i] place, anyway.
            
            How fragile that turned out to be. One push, and it comes crashing down. It's like losing them all over again.
            
            *goto allyoucan
            
        *else
            Losing your friends punched a hole in your heart. Losing them was losing a part of yourself.
            
            Prii's easy to miss. They were so warm and caring, a ray of sunshine. Back then they must have been terrified, and you know full well they were in pain, freshly ignited and everything falling apart around them. They didn't care. They stood up to a monster with powers they barely understood, and gave their life for the sake of everyone else.
            
            They were better than you'll ever be.
*page_break
Absent its haunting occupant, the room turns out to be uninteresting and devoid of clues. Perhaps you would find something if you turned every stone and prised open every crate, but frankly, you're in no mood to linger.

The fog has lifted from the return route, leaving no sign of its passage. However, more enticing is a windowed door opposite your entry point. The glass is clouded, obscured by a dark film, so it's with care you try the door handle and, finding it unlocked, slowly pull it open. You're rewarded with a delightfully ominous creak and a well-lit corridor beyond. 

Now you're getting somewhere. The walls are even plastered, albeit in the cheap stuff that's visibly flaking. You turn off and stow your flashlight, and proceed down the new passage. You can already see another door at the opposite end, which is a welcome change from the endless tunnel from earlier.

Thirty seconds into your advance, you hear someone.

'Hear' may not be the right word. The voice doesn't pass through your ears so much as sound directly within your head.

[i]"—eed to move faster, the mercs aren't going to last."[/i]

[i]"—too important to rush. Shut up and let me—"[/i]

Both speakers have an echoey, unearthly quality. You snap around, wary of an ambush, but are greeted with an empty corridor. Nothing, either in front or behind.
*choice
    #Great. More ghosts.
        Says something—though nothing particularly good—that your first reaction to phantom voices is relief that at least it's not Prii again.
        
        Those seemed to be talking to each other rather than you, which you'd be inclined take as a good thing if your optimism hadn't bled out in a ditch somewhere years ago.
        
    #What the fuck is going on?
        First the fog. Then Not-Prii. Now, strange voices in your mind.
        
        You thought you were a supervillain, not a fucking paranormal investigator.
        
        (Somehow, those guys still get work when there's superpowered people running around with extraordinary abilities. Then again, your AdVenture videos had an audience).
        
    #I'm dreading I'll hear Prii again.
        You don't know where they went. They could be lurking, lying in wait for their next chance to tear you open with their accusations.
        
        Where there's one ghost, apparently there are others. Would it be worse to see them in the macabre flesh, or for their words to appear straight into your mind, impossible to stifle?
        
        …You should move before your imagination gets out of control.
        
Another thirty second walk, another set of voices inside your head.

[i]"—manner of place is this?"[/i]

[i]"Better not to ask, rook."[/i]

[i]"I am not a rook—!"[/i]

Try as you may, you can't discern any detail of the speakers. It's as if they're speaking every word five or six times, all overlapping and slightly offset, rendering age, gender, and anything else impossible to guess. Your only sure conclusion is the sense of urgency all the voices convey, and honestly, that's more a residual feeling left in your mind than a read you're making.
*page_break You reach the corridor's end.
You're expecting to hear more as you cross the remaining distance. You aren't expecting the [i]rumble[/i] inside your head, nor the tremor it sends through your body. You stumble against the closest wall, steadying your balance. For a moment, you think it's a quake, and then the voices resume.

[i]"Is everyone alright?"[/i]

[i]"Just about, what the fuck was that?"[/i]

[i]"Within parameters, don't worry about it."[/i]
*choice
    #Is this... the Zone incident?
        The ground shaking. An operation underway here in the tunnels.
        
        It feels more than a little like the lead-up to massive destruction.
        
        Unfortunately, that conclusion does nothing for you at the moment.
        
    #Holy shit I hope that wasn't a real earthquake.
        You think back to the cave-in at the intersection. All of a sudden, you're very, very conscious of how far below ground you are.
        
        Just… just an echo. Haha… yeah…
        
    #I'm increasingly concerned about what's in my mind.
        Few explanations of these ghosts are reassuring. Hallucination. Illusion. Mind reading. All spell bad news for you.
        
        If the phantom experience can go so far as affecting you physically, you might be in deep trouble.
        
        The sooner you can get away from these phenomena, the better.
        
    #Thanks, ghost voice, I'll be attempting that.
        Fantastic, now you're talking to them.
        
        Thankfully, they don't say anything back.

[i]"Don't worry—are you serious?"[/i]

[i]"Save it. Our window's running short."[/i]

The conversation fades. You turn your attention to the door in front of you, which hangs slightly ajar. Despite the thick, rivet-studded metal of the door, there's a fist-sized hole just above the handle, exposing ravaged electronic guts. Apparently someone didn't feel like knocking. You put your hand on the door, feeling its weight. 

*if guts < 25
    It takes a rather embarrassing amount of effort for you to widen the gap enough for you to slip past.
    
*elseif guts > 40
    It actually takes a little effort to open it up. Clearly not a door to be trifled with.
    
*else
    It's a bit of a strain to get the door opening fully. What's this thing made of?
    
Beyond, you find yourself in a small airlock room. There's nominally a second door between you and another room, but considering that some force has crumpled it like a tin can, you don't foresee it presenting an obstacle. There's more than enough space for you to clamber inside. 

*page_break Climb through.
    
*if (observation < 20)
    *set tag true
    You see the shimmering distortion in the air a heartbeat too late.
    
    Resistance holds you a moment, then gives way with an audible snap. You curse, bracing yourself for the consequences, readying for a fight, an alarm…
    
    There's nothing. The room is silent and still. Whatever strange barrier you encountered is gone, leaving no trace of its presence.
    
    *choice
        #Well that isn't concerning.
            It's wishful thinking to assume that because you see nothing, there's nothing to see. When have you ever been that lucky?
            
            As if you needed more reasons to be paranoid. You'd raise your guard, but it's already at its apex.
            
        #No point worrying now.
            *set instinctive %+ 7
            You triggered the barrier, and what will be, will be. Dwelling on the matter isn't going to change anything, so you may as well keep moving.
            
        #Check myself for injury.
            *set instinctive %- 7
            A brief once over confirms that you haven't suddenly started bleeding everywhere, and you don't feel any different from before. Admittedly that still means 'pretty shitty', but you know, you haven't declined further. You'll take it.
            
            Better stay aware of your condition, just in case anything changes.
    *goto thereview
*else
    Wait, what is—
    
    You grip the doorframe tight, locking yourself in place at the last instant. Perched precariously atop the crumpled door, you extend your tendrils out to the walls, anchoring yourself more firmly.
    
    Ahead of you the air shimmers, almost imperceptible. 
    
    A brief inspection confirms the worst. The effect, whatever it may be, extends entirely around the entryway. To get inside you'll have to pass the unknown distortion, and at this stage turning back isn't an option. You can sense you're on the cusp of something.
    
    @{node Unhelpfully, the node is unwilling to investigate. No matter how you coax, command or coerce, it refuses to venture past the threshold. Capricious little bastard.|}
    *choice
        #Overwhelm the barrier: launch myself through!
            Yeah, alright. Simple option it is.
            
            Repositioning yourself, you adjust your grasp on the doorframe to serve as a launch point. You rock back and forth, getting a sense for the motion, and then you push off with all your strength.
            
            *if (guts > 23)
                For a moment you soar. The shimmer offers resistance, but you burst through and into the room without even slowing down, leaving an audible snap in your wake. Tucking into a neat shoulder roll, you instantly spring back up to your feet and into a ready fighting stance.
                
                There's no need. As your acrobatics end, the room is once again silent and still.
                
                *label shimmervan
                The shimmer, you notice, has vanished altogether.
                
                *goto thereview
            *else
                *set tag true
                Sadly, all your strength still isn't that much strength, and the powerful leap you envisioned winds up as a jump-with-extra-steps. You meet resistance with the shimmer, which audibly snaps at your passage. Your landing at least is clean, without ill effects. That just didn't really go as well as you wanted.
                
                The room falls once again silent and still.
                
                *goto shimmervan
        #Rack my brains for any information that might help me.
            *if (knowledge > 34)
                Safe to assume this is a parahuman power on display. While there are exceptions, the general rule is that stronger effects are harder for the user to maintain, and vice versa. If this shimmer is intended as a security measure to be left alone for long periods, it's a fair bet that it's not some kind of disintegration field or the like.
                
                Admittedly, 'disintegration field' isn't really a phrase you want anywhere close to any kind of gamble.
                
                Back to the point. Considering the shimmer is so faint, its creator probably intended for it not to be seen. Walked through, rather than simply touched. Touched, or… you think you have an idea.
                
                This will be either incredibly slick or absolutely stupid. No middle ground.
                
                Cocking back a tendril, you punch it into the shimmering barrier, pulling back as quickly as you're able. The tendril makes tangible contact, though that resistance instantly breaks with an audible snap. The shimmer vanishes. You hold your breath.
                
                Nothing happens. Not even disintegration. Your genius is unrivalled.
                
                Unless whatever the shimmer does is silent and invisible, but you're going to ignore that nagging doubt. You deserve something today.
                
                *goto thereview
                
            *else
                *set tag true
                No matter how much you think, nothing springs to mind. You sigh in frustration, reposition your aching legs upon your awkward perch, and then your tired calf spasms, pitching you straight into the room.
                
                There's momentary resistance as you meet the shimmer in midair, and then it gives way with an audible snap. Doesn't even break your fall.
                
                Speaking of, yours is a hard and unforgiving landing, and you're groaning as you pick yourself back up. Regaining your feet, you brace for the worst, but other than a few bruises to your body and ego, you seem to have escaped any consequences. That was one way to solve the problem.
                
                *goto shimmervan
        *selectable_if (fighting_style = 2) #No barrier is perfect. Just have to outwit its creator.
            It's a little like the DPR's cordon. For the most effective use of resources, you want to seal the biggest, most prominent gaps. The shimmer's coverage may look total, but you're willing to bet that it's strongest at the centre, at person level. It matters less what the shimmer does than its purpose; security for this room.
            
            Guard the area you expect the attack. It's easy to predict how a person will enter a room, because almost anyone will do it on autopilot.
            
            Yeah. You think you have a trick or two up your sleeve for this.
            
            Extending your tendrils up and outward, you manage to hook them around the inside frame of the door. You pause to flex them, get a sense for the exact movement that this will require. Then you put it into action, pulling hard while simultaneously tucking your legs. You flip upward and upside down, facing the inside wall for an instant before pistoning your right tendril against the frame, launching yourself up and sideways.
            
            There's the slightest resistance in midair, which proceeds to give way with an audible snap. You drag your left tendril against the wall to arrest your momentum and land cleanly on the ground. You're even the right way up. Glancing back to the door, you note that the shimmer has vanished altogether. You're inclined to think that you pulled your strategy off, but perhaps that's wishful thinking.
            
            *goto thereview
        *selectable_if (speciality = 3) #Armour up and trust my carapace can handle it.
            *if (dive)
                *if juice > 10
                    *set juice -5
                
            *else
                *if juice > 10
                    *set juice -10
            *set armour true
            The shimmer's barely there. Your armour should be all the insurance you need.
            
            First, though, you clamber down from your awkward half in, half out perch. You don't trust your balance with the extra weight.
            
            Back on the ground, you concentrate on your membrane and allow it to do its thing, dripping further across your body while strengthening and hardening. @{dive Your earlier efforts at preparing for the dive give you a helping hand here, making the process feel less demanding than usual.|You feel yourself bulking out, growing heavier and sturdier.} Soon enough you're layered in the familiar weight of your protective shell.
            
            *gosub juicecheck
        
            The added bulk presents an inconvenient obstacle when climbing back to your previous position, your plated shoulders catching and grinding against the doorframe. You have to twist sideways to fit yourself through, and then find yourself stuck. 
            
            *if mc_height > 3
                The angle you're leaning, the way your legs are folded in so tightly on the very narrow section of door, it's nigh-impossible for you to extend them properly and hop down to the floor.
            
                Well. You've got a carapace. It opens up another possibility.
                
                Before you can think too hard, you put the thought into action and bodily launch yourself across the threshold, crashing to the ground in a clatter of chitinous carapace. There's the slightest resistance in midair, but you plough through without slowing and an audible snap. Rolling to a halt, you pick yourself up no worse for wear. @{(instinctive > 45) Instinct carries the day once again.|That was a little more impulsive than usual, but it worked out this time.}
                
                *goto shimmervan
            *else
                Well. Nearly. 
                
                Fortunately, you're just short enough that you can partway straighten your legs while perched upon the very narrow section of door. That barely grants you the space to hop down to the floor inside the room, just shy of touching the shimmering air. So situated, you stride forward. There's a faint resistance, but as you push forward it gives way with an audible snap. With that, you're in the room and past the odd barrier.
                
                Sometimes, it pays to be a short ${mc_king}. 
                *goto thereview
        #Try to skirt around the fringes.
            *set instinctive %- 7
            *set tag true
            One way or another you need to get past the strange barrier. Still, nothing says you have to plough straight through like an idiot.
            
            Sidling it is. You slip slowly into the room, lowering yourself with your tendrils to stay as close to the door as possible. You'd brush the shimmer if you so much as nodded your head. Carefully then, you sidestep to the left. Your shoulder meets resistance immediately and bracing yourself, you push through. The strange resistance holds a moment, and then gives way with an audible snap.
            
            Nothing happens. You unfreeze from your guarded posture and step the rest of the way into the room, turning 180 to watch for any ill effects. Still nothing, and after a full minute of high alert, you concede you're probably not about to explode.
            
            *goto shimmervan
        #You know what? I'd rather keep it simple. Keep my guard up and proceed.
            *set tag true
            *set instinctive %+ 7
            You're alert to the threat. No need to waste your forewarning by getting fancy. Hopping through the doorway, you forge ahead. There's momentary resistance as you touch the shimmer, and then an audible snap when you push on through regardless.
            
            There's the other shoe. Poised to react, you prepare to fight, dive for cover, or anything in between.
            
            Nothing happens. With that single snap, the room is entirely silent again.
            
            Well. Alright. You won't complain.
            
            *goto shimmervan

*label thereview
*page_break Review your surroundings.

With the barrier situation handled, there's finally an opportunity to take stock of this latest room. It resembles a science classroom, albeit one hit by a tornado. Several overturned desks are scattered across the floor, some in pieces, along with a trio of square tables. One of those is broken right down the middle, the two halves forming a neat inverted triangle. Two of the walls are lined with white-topped counters, though even a few of those have been torn out and discarded. Shreds of paper carpet the entire room, some ripped up, some partially burned. There's also another door to your right, though that's wrecked even worse than your entry point. Finally, a computer monitor catches your eye, although an ugly crack across the screen casts doubt upon its functionality.

All in all, you've hit the jackpot. If there's anything to be found, it'll be in here.

[i]"Did you know?"[/i]

You grimace, the raw hostility of this new spectral voice permeating your senses. You try to shake it off, get to searching, and then jolt to a stop. Right ahead of you, two figures have materialised from thin air. Two [i]shades;[/i] misty-bodied, silhouettes blurred and indistinct. One shade is silvery pale, almost slippery to look at. The other is dark, roiling restlessly. As you look on the pale shade backs up, retreating from its counterpart's accusation.

[i]"Carnival,"[/i] it soothes. The emotion comes through more clearly now. On edge, yet somehow condescending. [i]"You need to calm d—"[/i]

[i]"Did you know!?"[/i] The dark shade screams, its raw fury rattling around your skull with dizzying force. You stagger, barely catching yourself on a table. Despite the shades'… physical presence, their words continue to directly enter your mind.

[i]"If you're unhappy with the mission, you're perfectly welcome to follow protocol—"[/i] The pale shade bumps against an obstacle you don't see.

[i]"And then what, Knight!? They sweep this under—"[/i] The shades fizzle out as quickly as they appeared.

Slowly, you straighten up, leaning on the table. Your jaw is clenched tight. Carnival. Knight. Mask names, you assume. You make a mental note to cross reference later.

In the meantime, you have the room to investigate. You suspect you won't have the luxury of an exhaustive search; best to stay focused and to the point.

Now… what to check?
*goto investigate

*label investigatemenu
So, what next?
*label investigate
*choice
    *hide_reuse #A photograph frame lies facedown on the floor, surrounded by glass.
        *set investigations -1
        *set photo true
        Amidst all the wreckage, the frame sticks out as the only item one could call a personal effect. That's noteworthy enough to warrant closer inspection.
        
        You go and pick it up, flipping the frame over and finding, as you hoped, that a photograph is still displayed there.
        
        Well, half of one.
        
        From the environment, you can tell the photo was taken in this very room. In the foreground, three children ranging from perhaps six or seven years of age to early teens stand with a reedy latino man. Two kids beam at the camera, the other, the smallest, clings to the man's arm, gazing up at him with huge round eyes. All three kids wear plain grey shifts that strike you as medical in nature. Small, pale fingers grip the man's other wrist, but are cut off by the photo's bisection. In the background are three more adults, one seated on a counter at the very back, arms raised in the air, the others standing. @{logs Your skin prickles as you recognise the leftmost man and his big red beard. You just watched him die. Here in the photograph, Luke remains alive and well, cheering alongside the other two background adults. That's in contrast to|All three look happy. Mid cheer, in fact, contrasting} the bashful expression on the foreground man's face. Lanyards hang from the necks of the four grown-ups, though Mr. Foreground remains an exception: his is blue, the others', red.
        
        Something interesting strikes you about the way the photo was torn; it's not straight down the middle. The culprit appears to have deliberately skirted around one of the background adults, excluding her from the missing half of the picture. Presumably, then, they only cared about specific people in the torn away section. Either that or they really hated that one lady in particular.
        
        You don't know what to make of this. There were kids here? Possibly sick kids? What the hell was the DPR doing?
        
        The seven faces hold no answers. You take the photograph from its frame, fold it in half, and stow it within your membrane for safekeeping.
        
        *if investigations > 0
            *goto investigatemenu
        *else
            *goto archinterrupt
    *hide_reuse #I'd be here all day reading through papers; I'll try for some highlights.
        *set investigations -1
        *set hatch true
        Scooping up a handful of scraps at random, you attempt to make sense of them to very little success. Anything that seems promising is too thoroughly destroyed to be more than tantalising nonsense, and your efforts to jigsaw the shredded pieces back together are fruitless. The more intact a paper is, the less useful its contents appear to be. Somehow, you don't think a reminder to defrost the ham overnight or a lecture about turning the AC up too high are going to be the clues that crack the case.
        
        @{papersplease Great, it's the security cabin all over again. If you find any more flowery exultations of superhero muscles, you're going to scream.|Damn them and their halfway decent information security.}
        
        The frustrating part is that there's [i]just[/i] enough detail that you think you could stitch something together given a few hours. You read snippets of jargon, what could be codenames, oblique references to data… and none of it's the least bit useful without context. Unfortunately, you don't have hours and there's far too much paper on the floor to gather it all up to take with you. Sighing, you settle onto your haunches and toss your handful of paper back to the ground. It may as well be con…fetti.
        
        Huh. From here, the floor panel in front of you looks off. Brushing papers aside, you study the unassuming square, just one of many tiling the room. Except not, because the more you look, the more certain you are that it's a hatch. Problem is, you don't see any way of opening the damn thing. Now that you're full blown inspecting the hatch, you can make out a seam around its edge, though it's far too narrow to insert anything thicker than, ironically enough, a sheet of paper.
        
        You give the panel a thump, get back a metallic clang. Then something else. A buzz. You frown, pressing your membrane-covered ear right to the hatch. Ever so softly, it's humming. Electronic. Remote operation would explain the lack of any handle, hoop or other mechanism, though that doesn't help you now.
        
        Dammit. The presence of the hatch indicates another secure area somewhere below, and that's useful information, but not the entire story. You're at an infuriating dead end; you can't spare either the time or the energy to brute force this.
        
        Nothing else for it but to move on.
        
        *if investigations > 0
            *goto investigatemenu
        *else
            *goto archinterrupt
        
    *hide_reuse #@{shades I'll inspect the odd stain the shade left on the wall.|An odd, blue-silver stain streaks one of the walls.}
        *set investigations -1
        *set weirdblood true
        Walking over to the wall, you lean in close for a better look.
        
        @{shades Considering what you witnessed a short while ago, it would make sense for this to be dried blood. Knight was stabbed,|The stain certainly isn't decorative, you'll rule that out straight away. In fact the shape of it, with one large patch at the top and the rest dragging all the way down to the floor, gives you one grisly idea as to its origin. Someone was wounded,} stumbled against the wall, and then slid to the floor, trailing blood as they went.
        
        All of which makes perfect sense up until you remind yourself that the stain is [i]metallic blue[/i].
        
        …Also, on even closer inspection of the point where wall meets floor, the substance is fluid, rather than dried out. This just gets weirder and weirder. There's no way whatever happened here was recent enough for fresh bloodstains, though you're using the term 'bloodstain' loosely.
        
        *if (knowledge > 40)
            Mental gears turn as you continue to study the strange liquid. Something clicks. It [i]is[/i] blood, after a fashion. You've heard a few different names for it: cyberfluid, Aug-Oil, mechfuel. You even used to know the scientific term; won you a quiz at Shauna's favourite bar. The stain, the small pool at the base of the wall, they're augment blood, and not just any augment. It's an extensive, high-quality set of cyberware that demands a synthetic circulatory system.
            
            And despite that, its owner could well have died at this very spot. What a cheerful thought.
            
        *else
            You do your best to fix all the details of the strange liquid within your mind. Unfortunately you lack the means to take a sample, so this will have to do. Hopefully one of your teammates can offer a solution to this mystery.
            
        With that, you decide it's time to move on. Can't get bogged down. Rising up from your crouch, you return your attention to the rest of the room.
        
        *if investigations > 0
            *goto investigatemenu
        *else
            *goto archinterrupt
    *hide_reuse #Over where the shades disappeared, voices echo faintly.
        *set investigations -1
        *set shades true
        They're right at the edge of your perception, though you can't say whether it's your mind or your ears. Too quiet to know what's being said. You move across to that spot and concentrate, straining to make out the words.
        
        Immediately, the voices stop. Then, just as you're about to vocalise your frustrations with a choice expletive or two, the pair of shades returns, so close to you that you jump backward in alarm. As you regain your bearings, you see the dark shade leaning over a counter, moving something unseen with their hands. The silvery shade stands a short distance behind them, fists clenched.
        
        [i]"—you insane!?"[/i] The pale shade demands.
        
        The other replies without turning around. [i]"If sane means going along with what we saw in there, then sure. Call me crazy."[/i]
        
        [i]"You're making a mistake. Don't do this, Carnival."[/i]
        
        The darker shade rounds on the lighter, voice lowering to a menacing growl. [i]"Or what, Knight?"[/i]
        
        [i]"I'll have to stop you."[/i] The pale shade's stance lowers, poised to fight.
        
        There's a hollow noise. A laugh? [i]"Not on your best day."[/i]
        
        Both shades go motionless. You figure that they're about to disappear once more, but instead they explode into action. The dark shade ducks inside the swing of the pale, ramming their hand against the pale's abdomen. Locked together, the two stumble until pale's back hits the wall.
        
        [i]"A…Alice, I…"[/i]
        
        [i]"Go to hell, Knight."[/i] The dark shade rips their hand clear. The pale lets out a horrible sucking gasp and slowly slides down the wall. Watching them a moment, dark turns on their heel and storms off, passing straight through you before you can react, sending a shiver down your spine. A shiver and an echo of something else. Anger. Betrayal?
        
        You shake your head, disoriented from both the vision and the foreign emotions. You've more than had your fill of ghosts.
        
        @{weirdblood The place the pale shade—Knight?—slumped in its final moments. It's the same exact spot as the strange blood you inspected before.|Looking over to where the pale shade—Knight?—slumped in its final moments, you realise it's the exact same section of wall as the blue-silver stain you noticed.}
        
        *if investigations > 0
            *goto investigatemenu
        *else
            *goto archinterrupt
    *hide_reuse #The computer must be worth a shot, right?
        *set investigations -1
        *set logs true
        Don't know until you try!
        
        You approach the computer, then spend thirty seconds searching for an input device before nudging the screen on the off chance it's touch operated.
        
        What do you know, it is.
        
        The screen hums to life, its picture blinking in and out with headache-inducing speed. There's an open program, blocky white text on a black background. A message at the very top of the screen reads 'USER: SchofLuk CURRENT SESSION: 9999 MINUTES', followed by 'SHARING OF CREDENTIALS IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED'. Below those are rows upon rows of dates, flickering on, off, on, off, on, off. Best you can tell, you're looking at some kind of security log. You poke around at the screen a little more, trying to see if you can coax anything else out of the computer@{hatch —a hatch-opening command would be pretty nice, right?—|, }but either the crack is in just the wrong spot to cover up a back button or the computer's too damn beat up to register the inputs.
        
        Looks as though the logs are all you're going to get out it, and you'll have to be choosy; there are many, many pages to page through, with a row for every day. All the way up to a date roughly eighteen months ago. Funny how that works. 
        
        *goto loginspect
        
*label loginspect        
*choice
    #Open an older entry.
        You scroll back a couple of pages and tap a row at random. A new page loads, and then instantly boots you back out to the list. You're forced to scroll to roughly where you were, selecting the adjacent entry this time.
        
        *gosub logentry
        *set checkedlog true
        
        ACCESS RECORD
        
        [13:36] C2 USER NOT FOUND ERROR
        
        [13:37] C2 USER NOT FOUND ERROR
        
        [13:38] C2 USER NOT FOUND ERROR
        
        [13:39] C2 USER NOT FOUND ERROR
        
        That one line repeats a dozen more times, each incrementing by one minute. It's followed by another message you hadn't previously seen.
        
        [17:11] MANUAL LOG ATTACHED — Y/N?
        
        You tap Y. A pop-up window appears at the centre of the screen, filled with text.
        
        [i]McCartVas — What a mess. Apparently nobody programmed a lockout on C2, since why bother with basic fucking security on the inside of a hatch, right? Good thing new guy is—was, I guess—an idiot and decided to send NX-whichever[/i]
        
        [i]McCartVas — would it kill them to have a confirm button on this thing? That has to be the tenth time I've posted before I was done. Anyway. New guy, idiot, tried to send NX-I'm-not-looking-it-up-right-now up without a keycard, which is the only reason NX-blah didn't pop up right in the middle of Central. We're lucky one of the, what's that bullshit title of theirs? One of the 'Special Dispensation Subcontractors' took new guy out before he realised he fucked up. Only now I've been sitting here for, let's see, OVER FOUR HOURS while they do a remote security sweep.[/i]
        
        [i]P.S. change this into the smiley face leadership approved!! smiley face format once the painkillers kick in[/i]
        
        [i]McCartVas — why can't I edit this[/i]
        
        After that, the usual stretch of AUTHORISED entries continues to the page's end. You note that one username, FenwicNat, does not appear again.
        
        *goto loginspect
    #Open a more recent entry.
        *set heardluke true
        You tap a row halfway down the first page of records. The computer makes an unhappy burbling noise as it processes your input.
        
        Man, it would suck if this thing crashed.
        
        By the grace of the techno gods, it overcomes its struggles and loads up the log. 
        
        *gosub logentry
        *set checkedlog true
        ACCESS RECORD
        
        After 'SchoLuk' is AUTHORISED six times in rapid succession, A1, A2, A1, A2, A1, A2, it's followed by:

        [12:03] A1 LOCKOUT ERROR — SchofLuk
        
        [12:03] A1 LOCKOUT ERROR — SchofLuk
        
        [12:04] AUDIO LOG ATTACHED — Y/N?
        
        Curious, you touch the Y. A pair of tinny voices layered with white noise begin emitting straight from the monitor.
        
        [i]"Hey, uh, it's Luke. I maybe forgot the stupid door doesn't like when you go through too many times in a row and long story short I'm stuck outside. Do me a solid and let me in?"[/i]
        
        [i]"Credentials and passphrase, please."[/i]
        
        [i]"Danny, you know it's me. We sit by each other twelve hours a day."[/i]
        
        [i]"Procedure comes first. Credentials and passphrase."[/i]
        
        [i]"You can SEE me on the camera!"[/i]
        
        [i]"Sure can. Credentials and passphrase."[/i]
        
        [i]"I swear, you get off on this shit. Fine."[/i] The speaker spells out 'S c h o f L u k', rattles off a long sequence of letters and numbers, and then concludes with. [i]"Marshmallow. PLEASE can I come in now? It's stupid cold out here."[/i]
        
        [i]"I'll send someone as soon as they're all back from break. Can't leave the station unmanned, you know? Shouldn't be more than ten minutes."[/i]
        
        [i]"Fuck you, Danny."[/i]
        
        *goto loginspect
    #Open the final entry.
        *set access true
        You touch the very last row. At first the input doesn't register, and you very carefully tap the date again.
        
        You're greeted by a single line: [12:55] POINT C CLEAR
        
        …Unhelpful. Returning to the previous page, you tap the penultimate row, dated two days prior.
        
        *gosub logentry
        
        Okay, calling this series of entries just @{checkedlog an exception|a break in pattern} feels like an understatement. What are these usernames?
        
        ACCESS RECORD
        
        [13:55] D2 REJECTED — SECURITY LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT
        
        After several more messages in that vein, the entries shift.
        
        [16:03] A1 AUTHORISED — AT033a5
        
        [16:04] D1 AUTHORISED — PC079b5
        
        [16:11] B1 AUTHORISED — PX021a5 — CHALLENGE CODE TYPE TWO ACCEPTED
        
        [16:16] C1 AUTHORISED — AT033a5
        
        [16:20] ERROR — POINT A OFFLINE
        
        [16:26] C2 AUTHORISED — PX021a5 — CHALLENGE CODE TYPE TWO ACCEPTED
        
        [16:31] C1 AUTHORISED — PC137c5
        
        [16:31] ERROR — POINT C OBSTRUCTED
        
        [16:33] B2 AUTHORISED — PC137c5
        
        [16:45] D2 AUTHORISED — PC137c5
        
        [17:04] B2 VERIFICATION ERROR — PX021a5 — CHALLENGE CODE TIMEOUT
        
        [17:05] B2 CREDENTIALS ERROR — AT033a5
        
        [17:05] FORCED ENTRY DETECTED AT B2 — ALERT SENT
        
        [17:05] ERROR — POINT B OFFLINE
        
        [17:26] FORCED ENTRY DETECTED AT D2 — ALERT SENT
        
        [17:26] ERROR — POINT D OFFLINE
        
        The entries stop there. Ah. Everything's clear to you now.
        *set checkedlog true
        
        *page_break As mud.
        
        Out of context this is meaningless. You need to apply your existing knowledge.
        
        Two days between the final two entries in the log. The Hounds' botched mission and the DPR's clean up. Ordinary names replaced by strings of letters and numbers. The parahuman team sent by the DPR. Points A through D are security checkpoints. Say… electronically secured doors? You'd qualify your mostly-destroyed point of entry as 'Forced'.
        
        Also, PX021a5 and AT033a5, whoever those are, suddenly had errors after being fine previously. Either something went wrong, or the credentials changed hands. No way of knowing for sure.
        
        You try to memorise as much of the detail as possible, and then return to the main page.
        *goto loginspect
        
    *if (access) #I'm finished here.
        As you contemplate what you've read, the screen continues to strobe. The constant flickering causes your eyes to unfocus, and that's perhaps the only reason you spot it. Peeking out from the crack in the monitor is the very, very corner of another window.
        
        What have we here?
        
        After a couple of attempts, you're able to get the screen to register your touch, allowing you to painstakingly drag your find out from the dead portion of the monitor and into view. It's a video, grainy footage shot from an elevated angle. A brown-skinned woman with long black hair is using a crowbar to pry at something below the camera, presumably a door. Behind her is a view very reminiscent of the passageway from earlier,
        
        *page_break Hit play.
        
        Metal scrapes as the woman continues her fruitless efforts, cursing under her breath repeatedly. A few seconds later, a burly man with a bushy red beard comes barrelling up the corridor behind her.
        
        *if ((photo) and (heardluke))
            You've seen him before. He was in the background of the photograph. He's not cheering now.
            
            "Vasanti!" He pants. "Wait up!" 
            
            Make that seen [i]and[/i] heard him before: it's the guy who locked himself out.
            
        *elseif (photo)
            You recognise him. He was in the background of the photograph. He's not cheering now.
            
            *goto pantluke
            
        *elseif (heardluke)
            "Vasanti!" He pants. "Wait up!"
            
            You recognise his voice: it's the guy who locked himself out.
            
        *else
            *label pantluke
            "Vasanti!" He pants. "Wait up!"
            
        The woman doesn't bother turning. "Not like I'm going anywhere with this lockdown." She gives the crowbar another try, to no avail. "Come on, move you piece of shit!"
        
        The man bends over, hands on his knees, sucking wind. "This is nuts!" he eventually manages, slowly . "How did Miguel even get out?"
        
        Vasanti screws up her face, and then furiously whips around. "I don't know, Luke! Maybe Heung or Maya or one of you other morons who can't get it through your heads that [i]Miguel[/i] isn't your friend left his cell unlocked again!"
        
        "H-hey!" Luke protests. "That only happened once! And Miggy is a good—"
        
        "Stop talking. Stop talking, or I'm going to bash in your skull," Vasanti flatly threatens. Luke shuts his mouth with a click. "Great. Now come help me with this" — she swings her crowbar with a resounding clang — "Fucking. Door!"
        
        Something beeps. Air hisses and metal hinges give a keening wail. Both Vasanti and Luke backpedal, wary. A quiet thump. The door is open.
        
        Their apprehension turns to fear.
        
        "Wait! Don't—!" Gunshot. Vasanti pitches backward in a spray of crimson.
        
        "Vas! No!" Luke cries, taking a single step in her direction. Gunshot. He staggers, falls to one knee. His desperate, despairing gaze stares towards the door.  "Why are—" Gunshot. He collapses, blood pooling across the floor beneath his head.
        
        "Sorry," someone murmurs, barely audible.
        
        The video ends.
        
        *choice
            #Holy shit.
                You could have done without seeing that.
                
                Unarmed, defenceless, and gunned down without hesitation. The apology turns it into a sick joke.
                
                Somehow, you don't think you'll need any extra effort to remember this part.
                
            #My breath quickens. I struggle for focus.
                Two people murdered before your eyes.
                
                After your unwelcome reminder of that awful night, you didn't need any more blood, any more death.
                
                For a few seconds you're back there. Hearing those awful crackling, crunching, [i]eating[/i] noises. Smelling rust and rotting flesh. Curled up, hardly daring to whimper, lest its attention fall on live prey, of far greater appeal than its feast of corpses.
                
                You turn away, closing your eyes and pressing a palm flat against your head, as if that could push the memories from your head.
                
                It's a while before you feel grounded enough to continue.
                
            #Who cares? I didn't know them.
                *set psycho +1
                Two random strangers got shot, so what?
                
                You just had a direct reminder of the deaths of two of your best friends. By comparison this is small potatoes.
                
                @{(killthink > 1) You're prepared to do the same if it comes to that. You have to learn not to be bothered by deaths like these.|Maybe you're not prepared to kill for yourself, but that doesn't make you a bleeding heart.} There's no reason to care.
                
                …Yeah.
                
            #@{dpr If I didn't distrust the DPR before...|I might need to revise my opinion on the DPR.|The DPR's doing real work to tank my opinion of them.|Whoa, the DPR are scumbags? I'm stunned.}
                Those killings looked in-house. The DPR mopping up its own loose ends. 
                
                As shady cover-ups go, this one's pretty damning. And it might only be the tip of the iceberg.
                
                @{dpr Poor bastards.|They can't have deserved that, surely.|What could have warranted such an execution?|Even you can feel a little sympathy for the DPR stooges. They probably had no idea their bosses would turn on them the second they became an inconvenience.}
            
        *if investigations > 0
            *goto investigatemenu
        *else
            *goto archinterrupt
        

*label archinterrupt
As you're about to continue the search, a metal squeal pierces the air.
*page_break Whirl towards the other door.
*temp meaning false
With a hideous crunch, what's left of that door is folded like tinfoil by a glowing yellow block.

The block lowers soundlessly back into the floor and Architect sweeps into the room. "Here you are!" There's rare urgency in his voice. "$!{mask}, we need to leave, the—" He goes rigid, registering your surroundings for the first time. "Of fucking course I see this now. Of all the—" He stops himself with a hard shake of the head. "Doesn't matter. Grab whatever you've found and follow me. We're in deep shit."
*choice
    #"What's going on?"
        Architect shakes his head. "No time. Quick version: the Glory Hounds are in the Zone. All of them. Now let's go." He doesn't wait for your response, hurrying straight back through the door. It's all so abrupt that his words don't sink in for a couple of seconds.
        
        Then they land.
        
    #I hesitate. That [i]is[/i] the real Architect, right?
        *set meaning true
        Architect, already beginning to turn away, pauses. "$!{mask}, I imagine you've seen some strange things. You're not the only one." He shakes his head. "There's no time for doubts. The Glory Hounds are in the Zone. All of them. If you want to end tonight outside a jail cell, you need to trust me."
        
        With that, Architect heads back through the door. 
        
        If he's a fake, he's not acting like the last one. Looks like you don't have much of a choice but to believe him.
        
    #@{archkay "Where have you been? You just vanished."|"Have you seen Rampage? We were separated."}
        @{archkay Architect pauses. "I could ask you the same."|"She's fine. I found her back the way I came. She said a strange fog cut you off."} He shakes his head. "Someone's parahuman ability, I'm sure. We can figure it out when we don't have six Glory Hounds bearing down on us. Now come on, let's go." He hurries back through the door.
        
        …Explains the urgency.

@{meaning Meaning a|A} full squad of heroes is bearing down on you.
*choice
    #This won't end well.
        You had to scramble together a retreat from just three Glory Hounds, back at the loan shark. Now you have to handle all six?
        
    #[i]Fuck.[/i]
        Fair summary.
        
    #Fantastic, not like I'm struggling here.
        Learning your night isn't [i]close[/i] to being over, after everything you've experienced…
        
        You're nearing the point where you'd be content to spend the next day or two locked in a room screaming your heart out until you can start feeling vaguely normal again.
        
        Enough stress can make anything nostalgic. 
        
    #Bring it on.
        After what you've been through tonight, hitting someone—or several someones—sounds pretty damn cathartic.
        
You follow Architect through the opposite airlock doors, unsurprisingly finding yourself in a passageway almost identical to your ingress, albeit substantially less damaged. The same can't be said for the subsequent turnoff, which is utterly wrecked to the point parts of the ceiling have collapsed. Architect strides unerringly across the debris, leaving you to @{(instinctive > 49) forge onward with similar drive. Just as well, as|pick your way through behind him rather more delicately. Then} Architect starts talking without either slowing or looking back@{(instinctive > 49) . Nice not to be caught short.| and you have to hurry up so you can remain in earshot.} 

"@{archkay That fog wasn't limited to the two of us. Nor the voices. |I'm assuming you also experienced voices alongside the fog." You make an affirmative noise, and Architect goes on. "}The whole group encountered something similar, save Wyrd."
*choice
    #"Any idea what happened?"
        "There's no sense speculating on my theories," he says shortly. Perhaps a little sharper than the question warrants.
        
    #"Is everyone alright?"
        If their experiences were anything close to your own…
        
        "They seem well enough. Perhaps a little shaken." His tone is dry, as if remarking upon the weather.
        
    #"What did you hear?"
        "Nothing pleasant." He does not elaborate. 
        
    #"Save Wyrd?"
        "They would have made contact." He says it with absolute conviction. "Presumably they were unaffected outside."
        
    #I'm not in the mood to talk more about it.
        Architect doesn't comment on your silence.

A glow steadily builds ahead of you. Soon enough you're able to make out Rampage, Fracture, and Ghoul, all illuminated by their flashlights. Chunks of rock and metal are shifted against either side of the passage, and you realise you're approaching from the opposite side of the cave-in, back where the team originally split. @{archkay Rampage shoots you a relieved look.|Ghoul gives you a nod.}

"Any change?" Architect asks. All three shake their heads. "Understood." He addresses the group. "I expect the Hounds will be waiting in ambush outside. It wouldn't make sense for them to venture in after us."

Ghoul lifts a hand. "Any word from Wyrd?" 

"None." You're sure you detect a note of worry in Architect's voice. "We shouldn't count on help from them." Ghoul sighs and nods.

"Can we take 'em?" Rampage is back bouncing on her heels, the occasional spark spitting and cracking from her body.

"Absolutely not," replies Architect. "Fight no more than necessary, and remember the goal is to retreat. If you see a chance to get clear, then run; no playing the hero. So to speak." He flexes his wrists. "The Hounds play for keeps. Get yourself caught and you're done."

Quiet descends upon you five Altruists as the gravity of the coming challenge sinks in.
*choice
    #Silver lining: at least I can disengage my hind brain for a bit.
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        Simple goal, simple drive. 
        
        It's one way to take your mind off all that's happened. Maybe punching a couple heroes in the face will help you work through these emotions.
        
    #An objective isn't a plan. We're not prepared for this.
        *set instinctive %- 10
        There's a brief pang of reproach towards Architect, but it swiftly passes. Any contingency plans, sensibly, revolved around attracting too much heat from the DPR. The Hounds scrambling their entire team halfway across town in the middle of the night should have been a non-factor.
        
        Seems that heroes specialise in unpleasant surprises. You think you understand a little better why those villains on the news would flip their lid when the cavalry came swooping in out of nowhere.
        
    #Quietly try to clear my head.
        Your mental state has taken a beating, and the Hounds won't politely put capturing you on ice for you to rebuild it.
        
        Have to take these moments of respite where you can get them.
        
    *selectable_if (speciality = 1) #I use this opportunity to produce @{node more|some} nodes.
        *if (node)
            *set juice -5
            The node wiggles in what you think is excitement, following you into an unobtrusive corner.
            
        *else
            *if juice > 10
                *set juice -15
                
            Psyching yourself up, you walk into an unobtrusive corner.
            
        *set node false
        *set nodes true
        There's an all too familiar sensation in your chest. Spidery, fluttering. You press your head to the wall, the cool stone against your head the tiniest salve against the roiling within your stomach. You retch as quietly as you're able when too many legs are forcing your throat open. One convulsion after another wracks your body, that dark red ichor dappling the floor and wall, dripping down your torso.
        
        Finally the first node scrambles into your mouth, promptly ending up on the ground as you vomit up another tide of slick ichor, leaving your creation squirming in a pool of your fluids. For a moment you want to stop, want that to be enough, but you're already beginning to gag again.
        
        Eventually you have three nodes lined up in front of you. The rest of the team is kind—or squeamish—enough to avert their gazes, giving you a moment of privacy to get a grip on yourself, swaying slightly.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
        
*set timepass 2
@{nodes Assessing that you're done vomiting, Architect speaks.|Architect breaks the tense silence.} "Alright. First we get outside, open up some space. If they don't go after us the second we show our faces, then we strike on my signal."     

Nobody voices an objection, and Architect leads you all back to the entrance, stopping by the open door. The narrow rectangle to the open air is almost as foreboding from this side as it was on the opposite. The knowledge that all six Glory Hounds are waiting to jump you will do that, you suppose. 

Architect takes a deep breath. "I'll see you all back at base. Good luck."
*page_break He steps outside.
*set houndsmet true

He isn't blasted from his boots, nor punched into next week. @{(instinctive > 35) You hasten to follow him.|You hesitate, and Rampage goes ahead of you, then Fracture. Ghoul gestures you forward, and you reluctantly oblige.}

The bottom of the chasm is bathed in green light, emanating from a dozen or more glowsticks scattered about the area. While dim, it's more than enough to reveal the six heroes arrayed opposite the hidden door. Three you've already met and fought. Three you've only been briefed about. All watching you like hawks, or a pack of wolves. Ready to pounce. Even with Wyrd, you'd still be outnumbered: a trio of monochrome constructs reminiscent of animals stand protectively by their Hound master. @{(expressive > 55) Heh, Houndmaster. Dude missed an opportunity not making any of them look like dogs.|}

Realistically though? Discounting the constructs, that's still six seasoned heroes including a pissed off powerhouse—hi Surpass—and led by a precognitive.

It's the precog who speaks as you filter through the door one-by-one. Vantage, wearing no mask, clad in a protective bodysuit in white and blue.

"Altruists," she calls. "I'll give you exactly one chance to surrender. You're all still fairly clean. @{badrep Even you, $!{mask}." Being mentioned by name catches you off guard. You've gained so much attention? "|}Come quietly and we can work something out."

"Vantage. What a pleasant surprise," says Architect, stepping to the front. You have to hand it to him; he's completely shed his earlier agitation, calm and collected as can be. "Forgive me, but this area is outside your jurisdiction, is it not?"

"No stalling," Vantage shoots back. "Surrender or we'll attack."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Architect spreads both arms in a shrug, palms facing upward. Two pillars of energy erupt from beneath the Hounds' collective feet, scattering them momentarily. "On them!" Architect barks. "Hit and run!"
*choice
    #Here goes everything.
        No holding back.
        
    #Roar a war cry.
        *set expressive %+ 10
        You tip back your head and howl.
        
    #Slip silently into action.
        *set expressive %- 10
        Concentrate.
        
    #I won't be caged again.
        Jail. The lab. It's all the same.


"Architect!" bellows Surpass, launching herself at him. "Your ass is mine!"

She crosses the distance with frightening speed, leaving Architect the barest instant to throw up a barrier to block her path. She slams headlong into the glowing cube, rebounding and leaving it shuddering, wavering.

Architect himself looks briefly unsteady, grunting with exertion. "I… respectfully… decline!" he manages as Surpass re-engages, pulverising the barrier with a single massive punch. Before she can apply the same treatment to his face, Architect has backstepped onto a pillar rising from below him, and then leapt onto a self-made ledge grown from the chasm wall. Surpass snarls in frustration and pursues, and that's the last attention you can spare unless you want to get nailed in the back of the head.  
*page_break Into the fray.
*temp confidence 1
*temp shaken false
Fracture and Rampage have moved in tandem straight for the bulk of the Hounds, those disrupted by Architect's opening play. That's your old foes Arcade and Enfilade, plus Phalanx, an armourclad warrior equipped with a huge round shield and an equally massive lance. Ghoul is gunning for Portrait, recognisable by his Venetian style mask, oversized quarterstaff-stroke-paintbrush, and the constructs bodyguarding him.

Which leaves you with Vantage all to yourself. She's already advancing towards you, wielding paired batons in reversed grips.
*choice
    #Cool, only the leader of the city's heroes. No big deal.
        Yeah, Vantage only has what, several years of experience on you? And you were hoping for a challenge.
        
        Hoo boy.
        
    #Hope the others aren't biting off more than they can chew.
        *set confidence 2
        They're rookies. Heck, Ghoul's barely even fought yet. Handling the Hounds is already a massive ask, but doing it while outnumbered?
        
        The goal's to fight clear, you remind yourself. They don't have to win.
        
    #A chance to shine.
        *set confidence 3
        Your biggest name opponent yet. Beat her, and your star will rise like a rocket.
        
        Hell of an incentive.
        
    *selectable_if (wpp > 1) #...I struggled to beat the D-list. No way am I match for her.
        You've never felt more out of your depth with your mask life than in this moment. There's a very real chance she mops the floor with you.
        
        …Well, freaking out isn't going to get your ass any less kicked.

You step forward and ready yourself. Vantage's eyes track your every movement as you begin warily circling each other. Her bare face makes her look oddly naked, despite her dark skin being only otherwise exposed at her lower arms. Weird how quickly you grow accustomed to these things.

"$!{mask}," says Vantage. "Protective coating combined with versatile additional appendages. @{fighting_style Capable close quarters combatant.|Capable tactician.|Skilled user of parahuman abilities.|DUMMY}" She twists her wrists. "You lose in ninety-seven point six five percent of simulations."

@{(knowledge > 37) $!{cg} told you a little about Vantage's powers and how they're theorised to operate. She can collate information and use it to run scenarios—simulations—of future events, then act upon those predictions. It's part of why the Zone incident was so damaging to the Hounds, escaping their leader's supposedly all-seeing eye. For your purposes, if Vantage has studied you, then she's likely to anticipate your usual tricks.|$!{cg} said… something about how Vantage's powers operate, but she was bombarding you with so many different parahumans and powersets that you don't properly remember. Vantage's powers let her run scenarios in her head and predict things. Somehow.}

*temp vantagesass 1
*choice
    #"Yeah? Suppose I should make this the two point three five percent then."
        *temp vantagesass 2
        @{confidence You're far from feeling the confidence of your words. Still, she doesn't need to know that.|Perhaps some bravado will inject the confidence you need.|You aren't going to let her intimidate you, and you want her to know it.}
        
        The corner of her lip tugs upward. "You're welcome to try."
        
    #"If you think you can model me, you're sorely mistaken."
        *temp vantagesass 3
        "Everyone thinks that until I do." Her tone is absent any braggadocio. To her, it's a simple statement of fact. 
        
        *if ((instinctive > 65) or (fighting_style = 2))
            Joke's on her. Half the time [i]you[/i] don't know what you're going to do next.
            
        *elseif instinctive < 35
            Outplanning the precognitive. @{(confidence < 3) You're less confident in that than you'd like to be.|Can you pull it off? You always did like to bet on yourself.}
            
        *else
            Only one way to find out who's right.
            
    #Don't speak. I need every ounce of focus.
        She nods. A moment of respect.
        
    #Her clinical tone reminds me too much of Hypothesis, and I'm shaken.
        *set shaken true
        *label clinical
        [i]…subject's abilities continue to show promise in their development[/i]
        
        Not this@{shaken .| shit.} Not again.
        
        @{shaken Tonight is an endless deluge. It's all too easy to find yourself strapped down, blinded by the lights, Hypothesis going on and on. Not-Prii already did their best to put you back there.|You are so fucking tired of this endless fucking deluge. Lab rat. Specimen. Subject.}
        
        @{shaken Your steps falter. Vantage studies you curiously.|[i]Subject.[/i] Just the word gets your blood boiling.}
        
        @{shaken Come on, $!{forename}. Come on. Concentrate on where you are, not where you were.|In fact, fuck this. Fuck Hypothesis. Fuck Vantage. You plant your foot and kick off, lunging at her.}
        
        @{shaken "Interesting," Vantage murmurs. Somehow, that's what recentres you, brings it all back to the ground. Vantage. The Glory Hounds.|She pivots and parries, giving up a little ground in the process. She sidesteps to the right, opening up some distance before you can uncork another swing.}
        
        @{shaken You aren't helpless. You can fight. You must.|"Hm. Seems I touched a nerve."}
        
    #Her clinical tone reminds me too much of Hypothesis, and I'm furious.
        *set vantagesass 4
        *goto clinical
    #"That's the worst threat I've ever heard."
        *set vantagesass 5
        "Oh it wasn't a threat."
        
        *if expressive > 65
            You scoff provocatively. "Sure, how about you put your money where your math is?"
            
            The corner of her lip tugs upward. "If you insist."
            
        *elseif expressive < 35
            You shrug. "Fights aren't numbers in a spreadsheet."
            
            "Nor are my powers."
            
        *else
            "It's a threat until proven otherwise," you tell her.
            
            The corner of her lip tugs upward. "Challenge accepted."

You've no room for error here. Nothing short of your best shot will cut it.

Vantage twirls a baton, clenching her fist to catch it back in place with a snap.
*choice
    #Overwhelming force. Let's go.
        *label stratforce
        
        *if battlephase = 1
            *set tactic1 1
        
        *elseif battlephase =2
            *set tactic2 1
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 1

        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        *if (guts > 30)
            *set fightscore +1
            You charge onto the offensive, and whatever Vantage's models predicted, they weren't ready for sheer brute strength. @{(mc_height > 4) Everyone's always underestimating the power in that small frame of yours.|} You club and you shove and you straight up bodycheck, driving Vantage onto the back foot. She's fighting even as she retreats, catching blows on her batons, jabbing at your ribs to open up a little more space.
            
            Doesn't matter. You've literally backed her against the wall. Once more, you rush in, ready to pulverise her against the rock.
            
            Suddenly, you're ramming facefirst into that same rock with stunning force.
            
            You rebound, seeing stars. Vantage moved—no, she moved [i]and[/i] tagged you in the back, driving you even harder.
            
            It's on instinct that you whirl around and slam your entire body into Vantage, blasting her to the ground before she can connect with a baton to your head.
            
            A break in the action as each combatant shakes off the cobwebs. There's a disconcerting grinding sound below your feet. You glance backward. You hit the wall so hard you left a crack, and it has spread.
            
        *else
            You charge onto the offensive, driving Vantage onto the back foot with every ounce of brute strength in your body.
            
            Vantage covers up from your clubbing blows, braces against your shoves, and your bodycheck only manages to rock her a little.
            
            The realisation that your brief advantage was carved by surprise alone hits you at about the same time as Vantage's baton. Struck in the temple, you stagger, momentum snapped in an instant.
            
            A second strike cracks you flush in the jaw. You don't even get a realisation to go along with this one.
            
            You've just about enough wherewithal to clumsily dodge strike the third, and you retreat a few steps before Vantage can press the attack, trying to reorient yourself. Something grinds disconcertingly below your feet.
   
        *set instinctive %+ 10
        *gosub battlephase

    #Fight defensively. Search for weaknesses.
        *label stratdefend
        
        *if battlephase = 1
            *set tactic1 2
        
        *elseif battlephase =2
            *set tactic2 2
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 2

        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        A patient approach would strike most as unintuitive@{(instinctive > 45) —your own instincts are very much screaming at you for this—| }when the first priority is to escape.
        
        Counterpoint: Vantage is a precognitive, and will definitely have a prediction for you @{(battlephase = 1) immediately trying to flee.|suddenly bolting.} 
            
        Hold your ground, wait for an opening.
            
        @{(instinctive  > 55) Vantage seems slightly surprised that you don't move onto the attack, though her game face swiftly returns.|Vantage nods slightly. Seems she expected this, which may not bode well.} Advancing, the Hound wields @{batons her surviving baton| both batons} in a tight guard, prepared for any sucker punches. Your raise your hands, position your tendrils just so, shielding yourself.
            
        Vantage feints a swing. You don't nibble. She resets her stance, feints again, and then goes on the attack for real.
        
        Your tendrils are proof against the @{batons weapon|weapons}, absorbing @{batons its|their} impacts easily. @{armour What you don't block, your carapace endures, though you note she isn't just senselessly raining blows upon the plates, instead targeting the points of overlap. Too bad for her there's just more membrane beneath.|What your tendrils can't handle, you parry or dodge.} You fire back with the occasional cautious strike, taking care not to overextend yourself. Vantage seems to be feeling you out, getting a sense for what you can do.
        
        *if ((observation > 37) or (instinctive < 25))
            *set fightscore +1          
            
            Goes both ways. After a couple more exchanges, you detect that she's favouring her left leg slightly. A bad knee? …Or is it? @{(observation > 37) Your eyes scan across her as you maintain your defence, studying her movements. Some of her strikes flow out from that leg more smoothly than they should from an injured limb|You bide your time and maintain your defence. Can't take anything for granted against an opponent like this.}
            
            @{(observation > 37) Aha. She's faking it.| }Vantage pauses, moves into a fresh attack, and @{(observation > 37) 'stumbles'|stumbles} on that left leg. @{(observation > 37) Too obvious.|It's almost exaggerated. No. It [i]is[/i] exaggerated. Another feint.}  You make as if to capitalise on the slip, lunging. 
            
            Then twist, catch Vantage's counterswing with a tendril, and then wrap the other around her shoulders to slam her bodily to the ground with enough force to send a shiver through the rubble. Apparently that armour of hers is pretty damn solid though, as she springs back up before you can press the attack further.
             
        *else
            @{(instinctive > 45) Holding back is starting to grind at your nerves. If you do nothing, she wins. You need to act, and soon.|}
            
            After a couple more exchanges, you notice she's favouring her left leg slightly. A bad knee? An opportunity. Your anticipation steadily builds as you zero in on the vulnerability.
            
            Vantage reaches too far on a swing, stumbles over that weak leg. You pounce.
            
            And instantly find yourself on the floor with a brutal crunch as Vantage turns on a dime, catches your arm, and throws you over her hip. It's a hard enough landing that the rubble below you shivers, driving air from your lungs. You barely block a follow up stomp from above, shoving her back by the foot to give you enough space to stand.
            
            There's a light smile on Vantage's bare face as you rise. Her stance shows no trace of the 'bad knee'. You just got played.
            
        *set instinctive %- 10
        *gosub battlephase 
                
    *selectable_if (speciality = 2) #Use my mutations: can't predict the uncontrollable.
        *label stratmutations
        
        *if (mutations)
            *set juice -5
            Mutations? Here's some you made earlier. You allow yourself a modicum of satisfaction for being prepared, then leap into motion. 
            
        *else
            *set juice -15
            You've not let your power off the leash yet tonight. This will have to be quick and dirty.
            
            The instant you relax control, your left shoulder splits open in an explosion of fangs and ichor.
            
            Quick, dirty, and painful. Can't forget painful.
            
            Vantage backs up warily, which you get to see through the fresh eyes blinking their way open down your neck. Your vision suddenly shifts again, hitting you with a massive surge of vertigo as you find yourself also looking at the scene from above. An eye at the end of your tendril, you realise. You bring it down, see the huge, malformed orb with its black sclera, and turn it away before you can be overwhelmed by nausea. The opposite tendril crackles and splits, its tip flattening and thickening as curved teeth push their way out all along its sides.
            
            The changes slow, halt. Vantage looks on with obvious interest.
            *page_break That's no comfort.

        *if battlephase = 1
            *set tactic1 4
        
        *elseif battlephase =2
            *set tactic2 4
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 4

        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        *set fightscore +1
        @{mutations You lash your fang-studded tendril ahead of you, shoulder maw snapping at the air. Intimidation tactics can't hurt. Vantage is completely unfased, and|You've no time to get acclimatised to your new shape as Vantage} goes onto the offensive. She ducks below a scything slash of your tendril and jabs a baton straight into your neck. You flinch, but rather than the agony of a ruptured eye, there's a clack as the strike bounces straight off your apparently-hardened eyeball.
        
        Even you can't predict your mutations. How is Vantage's power going to keep up?
        
        You club her with a tendril—absolutely dizzying as your perspective whizzes through the air—and then swipe with the other. She brings up a baton to block, but the tendril's teeth are so long that you still gouge several furrows along her forearm.
        *set mutations true
        *gosub juicecheck
        
        With gritted teeth she retaliates, catching you in the jaw with a baton-assisted elbow, and then plunging the other baton deep into your shoulder maw. Teeth crack and you taste treacle-thick blood, stinging and sour. Vantage starts to pull her arm back, but her weapon catches upon your fangs.
        
        Instantly, you know what must be done.
        *choice
            #Eat the baton.
                *set batons 1
                Crunch. Crunch.
        
                Vantage tears herself loose and finds she's holding nothing more than a splintered handle. 
        
                You give her a grin filled with pieces of broken wood.
        
                Her eyes are wide for just a moment before paring back down to laser focus. "…Adjusting simulation," she murmurs, tossing the broken baton aside.

                *gosub battlephase
    *if ((fighting_style =1) and (speciality = 3)) #I'll blend muay thai and my carapace in a brand new style. [Combo: Carapace + Hand-to-hand]
        *label stratmuaypace
        
        *if battlephase = 1
            *set tactic1 5
        
        *elseif battlephase =2
            *set tactic2 5
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 5
            
        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        *set juice -10
        *set batons 1
        *set fightscore +2
        *achieve synergy
        *set harmony +1
        @{armour Your armour's already out. That's not actually what you need here, and you focus on the plates, pulling them back a little. You begin the process of stimulating your membrane, inducing the hardening effect, but you hold back from developing your carapace fully.|}
        
        You've used your carapace to help you fight before. This is something different.
        
        Stepping into reach, you open with a quick combination of punches, which Vantage blocks or avoids, retaliating with a swipe of the left baton. It thuds into your raised forearm, impact absorbed by your membrane. Vantage is already moving by the time you try for a kick, and you're off balance as she sidesteps and hooks your standing leg out from underneath you, sending you crashing to the floor. Largely unhurt, you're easily able to roll aside from her piledriver of a downward blow. @{(fightscore < 3) You hear a crunching, grinding noise from the unsteady ground underfoot.|The rubble shifts, putting Vantage into a stumble.}
        
        Rolling back upright with a little boost from your tendrils, you return to your circling. You've got a taste for each other's abilities, now to find the right opening for your plan.
        
        There.
        
        You throw an elbow. Vantage brings up her baton. Your power surges, and at the moment of impact, the carapace bursts forth. With a [i]crack[/i] the baton splits straight down the middle and Vantage recoils, grasping at her arm.
        
        You aren't done.
        *set armour true
        
        Launching a knee, you simultaneously kick your power into gear. A hard plate forms across the joint right as it slams into Vantage's gut. You keep moving fluidly, spinning. Another elbow, another midstrike burst of your carapace, nailing Vantage in the side of the head. @{(fightscore < 3) She reels, almost falls, but manages somehow to get her feet under herself and regain balance.|}
        
        *if (fightscore < 3)
        
            *gosub juicecheck
    
            Vantage looks you up and down, taking in your part-membrane, part-carapace. Tossing the broken baton aside, she wipes blood from her face. "…Adjusting simulation," she murmurs.
            
            *gosub battlephase
        *else
            Launching a knee, you simultaneously kick your power into gear. A hard plate forms across the joint right as it slams into Vantage's gut. You keep moving fluidly, catching Vantage's arm midswing, tucking your leg behind hers to sweep her to the ground. It's her turn to defend from her back, getting the surviving baton across herself to bear the brunt of your stomp. Again, something cracks.
            
            Not the baton. The ground.
            
            Oh shit.
            
            You've a split second to hurl yourself to safety before the ground falls away with a literally earth-shattering boom, taking Vantage along with it.
            *page_break
            *goto vantagepit
    *if (fighting_style = 2) #Adapting is my bread and butter: a simulation doesn't know how I improvise.
        *label stratadapt
        
        *if battlephase = 1
            *set tactic1 6
        
        *elseif battlephase = 2
            *set tactic2 6
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 6
        
        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        *set fightscore +1
        You've a deep bag of tricks. Now, just how much can Vantage's power handle?
        
        She moves to engage. You twist your body, take a baton directly to the chest, and spin into a dual backhand from both your arm and tendril. Vantage staggers, you stoop, and right as she's renewing her offensive, you pop back up to hurl a chunk of rubble at her. She reacts at the last instant, sidestepping while deflecting your projectile with @{batons her surviving baton.|both batons.} The rock rejoins its peers with a hefty thump, kicking up a dust cloud.
        
        @{vantagesass "Very innovative."|"You're stretching hard for that two and a half percent, aren't you?"|"Something tells me you took offence to being modelled."|"Something tells me you took offence to being modelled."|"You're stretching hard to prove my 'threat' wrong."} says Vantage, calmly resetting her stance. "More data for me. You can't win."
        
        You shrug. "If you say—" You turn and run.
        
        Left in your wake, Vantage curses, then you @{mutations see|hear} her start running@{mutations  through your bonus eyes.|.} You arrow straight for the nearest ledge in the chasm wall and take a running leap, catching on and hauling yourself up. Rolling across the ledge, you spring to your feet and start climbing the wall. Vantage leaps up behind you, bent on bringing you down.
        
        It's only polite to oblige. You dive from the wall.
        
        You catch Vantage at chest height, slamming horizontally into her and sending you both flying from the ledge. A heartbeat later, you come crashing down to the ground, your weight driving Vantage into the rubble. @{(fightscore = 3) A full two seconds after impact, your stomach lurches as everything suddenly drops by a foot.|Your momentum carries you further, causing you to roll clear of her and costing you an opportunity to keep the hero pinned.}
        
        *if (fightscore = 3)
            Shit.
            
            Scrambling upright, you launch yourself at the recently-vacated ledge an instant before the ground falls away with a literally earth-shattering boom, taking Vantage along with it.
            *page_break
            *goto vantagepit
            
        *else
            Still, as you pop jauntily back upright and Vantage follows suit rather more gingerly, you know you've proved a point.
            
        *gosub battlephase
    *if (fighting_style = 3) #I've got a deep bag of powered tricks. Strut them.
        *label stratpowers
        
        *if (battlephase = 1)
            *set tactic1 7
        
        *elseif (battlephase = 2)
            *set tactic2 7
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 7
        
        *gosub repeatcheck
        
        *set fightscore +1
        You've barely started to show the extent of your innovation. Vantage thinks she's got you figured out? Hardly.
        
        @{cgstuff $!{cg}'s kind of an asshole, but she taught you well.|All those weeks and months training with $!{cg} weren't for nothing.}
        
        You unfurl your tendrils, flexing them delicately. @{mutations This will be interesting, considering your present alterations.|This will be new even to you.} Hopefully it doesn't blow up in your face.
        
        As Vantage advances, you hold your ground. Wait for it. Wait for it…
        
        She takes a cautious swing with @{batons her|a} baton. Immediately, you bring both tendrils in to block. That's the perfect position to then coil them around your arms, extending their length until you've got a snug pair of tendril armguards@{mutations , fangs now decorating your right fist. As for your left… well, the oversized eyeball probably isn't going to be much of a knuckleduster.|.}
        
        Vantage looks as though she wants to make some space to reassess, so you don't allow it, pressuring her by sticking close and using your oversized tendril-arms like a pair of battering rams to bully her around your arena. Face locked in a tight scowl of concentration, Vantage defends your attack admirably, deflecting the worst of your heavy swings and even firing back a couple shots of her own. Still, you doggedly continue your pursuit, refusing to allow a moment to breathe. You just need her to commit once…
        
        And she does, tagging you in the thigh with @{batons her|a} baton and attempting to spring past. 
        
        You pull the rabbit you've had lurking in your hat. Wrapped so tightly together, your tendrils and arms are effectively one and the same. You lash out your right arm, inverting it at the elbow—so little resistance—and hammering it into Vantage's throat in full flight. She drops instantly, clutching her neck and choking for breath.
        
        The satisfaction of success is soured by the boneless hanging of your elongated limb. By the time you've wrenched it back into place with a sickening [i]snap[/i] of realigned bones, you've already lost your chance to capitalise. Vantage is back up.
        *choice
            #It doesn't even hurt. That's fucked.
                *set hate +1
                It's [i]so[/i] great your only recourse is using these screwed up powers.
                
            #Welp. Sure will be revisiting that noise in my nightmares.
                It's an inevitability.
                
            #Okay. That was cool.
                *set content +1
                Every so often, your powers let you pull off something awesome.
                
            #None of that matters. It worked.
                And you're in the middle of a fight.
                
        You pull your focus back to your opponent. She's too dangerous for distractions. Your tendrils pop back into their regular position.
            
        *gosub battlephase
    *if (fighting_style = 1) #I'm a good fighter. I can hold my own without being fancy.
        *label stratfists
        
        *if (battlephase = 1)
            *set tactic1 8
        
        *elseif (battlephase = 2)
            *set tactic2 8
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 8
        
        *gosub repeatcheck
        *set fightscore +1
        Simulating you is one thing. Beating you in close quarters is another. @{(confidence < 3) You can be confident in your fists if nothing else.|Vantage is about to get rocked.}
        
        You seize the initiative, storming onto offence with an immediate front kick. Vantage checks it using both hands, and you reset your balance. She swings at you, baton thumping into your guard with barely a twinge. Feinting a jab, you let Vantage take the bait, and then torque your hips, delivering a roundhouse knee to the solar plexus, doubling her over. On an unarmoured opponent, that'd be the coup de grace. Vantage's protection downgrades it to a brief winding, and she rises out of her stoop with a vengeance, smashing @{batons her|a} baton into your chin, sending your head snapping skyward.
        
        Shaking off stars, you act on instinct, shielding yourself with a combination of tendrils and arms. A pair of impacts taken mostly by your guard confirm you covered up decently well. You're winding up for a tight uppercut before Vantage is even back in your sights. You know where she is. She's already reacting, swaying aside, but too slowly to avoid a glancing blow. Vantage's measured footwork becomes a stagger, and she's forced to hop several steps backward to re-establish some distance.
        
        She breathes a soft 'hmph'. You smirk under your membrane, knowing you won that round.
        
        *gosub battlephase
    #Attempt a dangerously vicious cheap shot.
        *label stratbrutal
        
        *if (battlephase = 1)
            *set tactic1 9
        
        *elseif (battlephase = 2)
            *set tactic2 9
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 9
        
        *gosub repeatcheck

        @{badrep Hey, Vantage is the one who called you out. If she gets hurt, she's only got herself to blame.|Against an opponent like Vantage, there's no holding back. Even if that means unfettering your most violent urges.}
        
        @{badrep Villain, right?|You're supposed to be a villain, after all.}
        
        Moving forward, you keep your fists tightly clenched, concealing your intentions. With @{(speciality = 3) your expertise, extending two fingers into razor-sharp claws is as simple as breathing.|steady concentration, you extend two fingers, drawing them into razor-sharp claws.}
            
        You aim a punch with your opposite hand. Vantage blocks, counters with a hard shot to the gut. @{badrep You feel yourself grin. Gotcha.|Irrelevant. She's within reach.}
        
        *if (badrep)
        
            Out snap your talons, ready to tear deep into her side.
            
            Out snaps Vantage's @{batons surviving|left} baton, catching your swipe cold with the elegance of a fencer. Though it's unlikely a fencer would have proceeded to pop you in the mouth with their free hand. Unbalanced and reeling, you just barely don't fall flat on your ass as Vantage half-shoves, half-smacks you in the chest.
            
            She doesn't follow up, just stands ready, waiting for you to regain your footing. The corner of her mouth twitches infuriatingly.
            
            "Almost every simulation had you trying that sooner or later, $!{mask}," she says. She studies you, gaze lingering on your unbloodied claws. "It'll get you killed, this road you're going down. Not too late to change." There's an odd look in her eyes.
            
            Oh.
            
            It's sympathy.
            
            *choice
                #Screw her! I lunge for Vantage's throat, snarling.
                    *set psycho +1
                    *set brutal +1
                    *set fightscore +1
                    How dare she pity you!? You'll rip that smirk right off her face!
                    
                    You hurl yourself at Vantage, bowling her over as you thrash and claw like a feral animal. Pinning Vantage down, you gouge and tear at every inch of her within reach while she desperately tries to cover up.
                    
                    A red haze descends, clouding thought with furious bloodlust. Your talons dig deep and you rake them back, cutting ribbons of Vantage's arm. You're snapping and growling, lost in the berserk trance—
                    
                    Vantage clocks you in the side of the head, dislodging you. She scrambles clear, you climb back to your feet.
                    
                    The haze lifts. Your vision comes back into focus. Vantage is bleeding heavily, cradling her wounded arm. She's not smiling any more.
                    
                    Savage satisfaction blooms within you.
                    
                    *gosub battlephase
                #Don't react. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
                    *set brutal +1
                    You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. A little blood has seeped through the membrane, and now smears over your skin.
                    
                    There's no need to worry about your expression with your face covered, @{(expressive > 55) but it's harder to school your body language. You force your fists to unclench, then realise you're hunching up, hackles raised like a wild animal. You straighten, too late to truly hide your emotions.| and you swiftly school your body language, preventing your hackles raising. You won't let her judge you as a wild animal.}
                    
                    *label vantagewatch
                    Vantage watches, unmoving. "Think it over," she murmurs.
                    
                    Sure. Whatever.
                    
                    *gosub battlephase
                    *set expressive %- 7
                #Even the heroes are pitying me. A new low.
                    Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, somebody tosses down a pickaxe and tells you to get digging.
                    
                    You stare at the rubble below, briefly contemplating burying yourself within.
                    
                    No point. Your dreams, your demons, they'll always find you.
                    
                    *goto vantagewatch
                #A laugh bubbles up from inside of me. She has no idea.
                    *set doubt_gh +5
                    First a giggle, then an explosion of laughter from deep in your chest.
                    
                    You hear your own hysteria and you can't bring yourself to care. Vantage doesn't understand. Not even a little. Your life's been out of your hands for years.
                    
                    It's so funny it hurts.
                    
                    Vantage stares at you while you get the laughing fit out of your system. Once you finally trail off, she clears her throat. "…think it over."
                    
                    You make no reply. There's nothing to say.
                    
                    The laughter has gone. The pain stuck around.
                    
                    *gosub battlephase
                #...maybe I could stand to rein myself in.
                    *if psycho > 0
                        *set psycho -1
                    
                    You've let yourself get lost in a mindset of sheer violence as a first—or at least early—recourse. Is that really who you want to be?
                    
                    "…Whatever," you mutter, retreating a couple of steps. "You here to fight or preach?"
                    
                    "You tell me," Vantage replies. That frustrating half smile hasn't left her face.
                    
                    Scowling, you say nothing more.
                    *set brutal -2
                    *set rein true
                    *gosub battlephase
                    
        *else
            *set fightscore +1
            *set brutal +2
            Out snap your talons, carving through her armour and biting into her side. Warm blood splashes across your fingers as you rip them clear. Vantage retreats, a red river already beginning to stain the white of her bodysuit.
            
            There's equal parts surprise and disgust in her eyes. They swiftly narrow. "I see. The true colours come out."
            
            Your only reply is to shrug. You won't apologise for pragmatism.
            
            *gosub battlephase
    #@{(knowledge > 37) Use my understanding of Vantage's powers to devise a strategy.|If her powers are predictive, then I'll beat her with unpredictability.}
        *label stratstrat
        
        *if (battlephase = 1)
            *set tactic1 3
        
        *elseif (battlephase = 2)
            *set tactic2 3
        
        *else
            *set tactic3 3
        
        *gosub repeatcheck

        *if knowledge > 37
            *set fightscore +1
            Precognition isn't flawless. Every parahuman you've heard of with some variation of the ability also has limitations.
            
            Vantage can't know everything. On the other hand, it's safe to assume that any tactic you've already used will be a tactic included in Vantage's model. You'll need to come up with something new; you're not going to get into whether she can predict that you'll try to anticipate her power. You don't need the headache.
            
            Best option is to go completely outside the box. Without getting stupid about it.
            
            You allow your tendrils to drape down your back and trail onto the broken ground. @{mutations The additional eyes do you a favour in finding what you need:|They brush about until alighting upon} a pair of fist sized rocks. You grip both, carefully aligning your body to conceal your plot from Vantage, who has started towards you. Holding still, you wait until she's within a few feet to whip your tendril out, flinging the first rock. Vantage shouts in alarm, twists, and takes the hit right on her shoulder, a great opening for you to swing rock number two @{killthink at her gut|at her torso|straight at her head}. Vantage clumsily lurches backward, almost falling, and you follow through, whipping the tendril backhand to throw the second rock. This Vantage blocks with @{batons her|a} baton, the force knocking her over, though she springs straight back up.
            
            "That was new," Vantage acknowledges. @{killthink She looks slightly impressed. For a moment.|You can tell she's calculating, adding new information.|She's frowning. Maybe not so impressed by you trying to smash a rock into her face.}
            
            *if killthink = 3
                *set brutal +1
            
        *else
            No thoughts, no plan. Let the fight be the fight.
            
            *if (instinctive > 74)
                *set fightscore +1
                You lower your hands from their ready position, @{(expressive > 45) then stretch your arms out wide in a 'bring it on' gesture.|allowing your arms to drop all the way to your sides.} Vantage's eyebrows briefly rise, then she's moving unerringly towards you. The hero takes a probing swing with @{batons her|a} baton, and you block with your tendril, flicking out the other in a short punch. Vantage jerks back, and you continue with a series of tendril strikes. Parry, parry, dodge, parry.
            
                Tendril boxing@{(expressive > 60) , baby!|; showier than you'd normally go, but it's for a specific reason.} Vantage is totally on the defensive, struggling to adapt to your no-hands approach. With a look of consternation, she tries to step inside your space, taking a hard shot to the torso on the way in.
            
                Of course, that's when you follow your instincts and ram your knee straight into her gut. With Vantage flinching from the hit, you link both tendrils together, bring them around in a clubbing blow, and smack Vantage in the head, knocking her to the ground. You spring forward to really put the hurt on her, but she springs to life, spinning around and sweeping your legs from behind. You each scramble apart to rise back to your feet.
            
            *else
                To be honest? Easier said than done. @{(instinctive > 60) As good as you are at switching|Switching} off your brain@{(instinctive > 60) , that goes out of the window| is a challenge} when you've got a hero right up in your business. Vantage is aggressive, giving you no room to breathe. You're hit in the stomach, then the head, then the body again, your own attacks never quite landing home. Inevitably, your instincts fall back on training. Fall back on [i]patterns.[/i]
            
                And that's how Vantage gets you. Before you realise that you've reverted to the basics, Vantage's baton slams into the side of your head out of nowhere, almost dropping you on the ground then and there. How—that dodge should have been—
                
                Vantage plants a foot into your chest and you trip over backwards. Catching yourself on your tendrils, you take a backward roll and spring back even further, trying to unscramble your brains. It's just enough clearance that Vantage can't follow up after you, buying some recovery time.
                
                "Ninety-seven point six five," she says, watching you reset with a faint smile on her face.
                
                At least your membrane hides how badly she's getting under your skin.
                
        *gosub battlephase
 
*label phase1
*if (fightscore = 2)
    Advantage, $!{mask}. What next?
    
*else
    @{(fightscore = 0) Not great, but you can still turn it around.|A slender advantage. What next?} 
*set battlephase 2
*choice
    #@{(tactic1= 1) Keep going all out! No letting up.|Overwhelming force. Let's go.}
        *goto stratforce
    #@{(tactic1 = 2) The cautious approach worked: stick with it.|Fight defensively. Search for weaknesses.}
        *goto stratdefend
    *if (speciality = 2) #@{(tactic1 = 4) Continue letting the mutations do their thing.|Use my mutations: can't predict the uncontrollable.}
        *goto stratmutations
    *if ((fighting_style =1) and (speciality = 3)) #@{(tactic1 = 5) Oh I [i]like[/i] this innovation. Keep going with it.|I'll blend muay thai and my carapace in a brand new style.}
        *goto stratmuaypace
    *if (fighting_style = 2) #@{(tactic1 = 6) Hah! I can do this all day!|Adapting is my bread and butter: a simulation doesn't know how I improvise.}
        *goto stratadapt
    *if (fighting_style = 3) #@{(tactic1 = 7) And for my next trick...|I've got a deep bag of powered tricks. Strut them.}
        *goto stratpowers
    *if (fighting_style = 1) #@{(tactic1 = 8) I'm gaining ground. Stick with hand-to-hand.|I'm a good fighter. I can hold my own without being fancy.}
        *goto stratfists
    *if (not (rein)) #@{(tactic1 = 9) Can't make a supervillain without bloodying a few hands. Keep going.|Attempt a dangerously vicious cheap shot.}
        *goto stratbrutal
    *if (tactic1 = 3)
        #@{(knowledge > 37) I have her figured out. Let's continue on these lines.|Vantage has no idea what I'll do next! Keep at it!}
            *goto stratstrat
    *else
        #@{(knowledge > 37) Use my understanding of Vantage's powers to devise a strategy.|If her powers are predictive, then I'll beat her with unpredictability.}
            *goto stratstrat
    
*label phase2
*if (fightscore = 3)
    *set tactic3 tactic2
    *goto phase3

*elseif (fightscore = 2)
    Still on top. You can win this.
    
*else
    It's not over yet.
    
*label phase2b

*set battlephase 3
*choice
    *if (tactic1 = 1)
        #@{(tactic2 = 1) Rgh! Full power! I'll force an opening!|Alright, back to the full force option!}
            *goto stratforce
    *else
        #@{(tactic2 = 1) Keep going all out! No letting up.|Overwhelming force. Let's go.}
            *goto stratforce
    *if (tactic1 = 2)
        #@{(tactic2 = 2) Defence is still the best option. Keep being careful.|Hm. Back to being patient and defensive, I think.}
            *goto stratdefend       
    *else
        #@{(tactic2 = 2) The cautious approach worked: stick with it.|Fight defensively. Search for weaknesses.}
            *goto stratdefend
    *if (tactic1 = 4)
        *if (speciality = 2) #@{(tactic2 = 4) My mutations will punch an opening sooner or later!|Let's get my mutations back into the action!}
            *goto stratmutations
    *else
        *if (speciality = 2) #@{(tactic2 = 4) Continue letting the mutations do their thing.|Use my mutations: can't predict the uncontrollable.}
            *goto stratmutations
    *if (tactic1 = 5)
        *if ((fighting_style =1) and (speciality = 3)) #@{(tactic2 = 5) Alright, some teething problems with this new style, but I'm confident I can overcome them.|My muay-carapace innovation worked out before, I'll return to that.}
            *goto stratmuaypace
    *else
        *if ((fighting_style =1) and (speciality = 3)) #@{(tactic2 = 5) Oh I [i]like[/i] this innovation. Keep going with it.|I'll blend muay thai and my carapace in a brand new style.}
            *goto stratmuaypace
    *if (tactic1 = 6)
        *if (fighting_style = 2) #@{(tactic2 = 6) I know I can think my way out of this. Just keep improvising!|Switch it up, let's improvise some more.}
            *goto stratadapt
    *else
        *if (fighting_style = 2) #@{(tactic2 = 6) Hah! I can do this all day!|Adapting is my bread and butter: a simulation doesn't know how I improvise.}
            *goto stratadapt
    *if (tactic1 = 7)
        *if (fighting_style = 3) #@{(tactic2 = 7) Come on! I can do more with my powers than this!|Right. Back into the powered tricks, then.}
            *goto stratpowers
    *else
        *if (fighting_style = 3) #@{(tactic2 = 7) And for my next trick...|I've got a deep bag of powered tricks. Strut them.}
            *goto stratpowers
    *if (tactic1 = 8)
        *if (fighting_style = 1) #@{(tactic2 = 8) Switching around isn't going to help me now. Stick to my guns.|Alright, let's get back to my guns and the fists-first approach.}
            @{(expressive > 60) More like guns show, right?|}
            
            *goto stratfists
    *else
        *if (fighting_style = 1) #@{(tactic2 = 8) I'm gaining ground. Stick with hand-to-hand.|I'm a good fighter. I can hold my own without being fancy.}
            *goto stratfists
    *if (tactic1 = 9)
        *if (not (rein)) #@{(tactic2 = 9) No backing down. I'll be as vicious as I must.|I'll go back to the violent option.}
            *goto stratbrutal
    *else
        *if (not (rein)) #@{(tactic2 = 9) Can't make a supervillain without bloodying a few hands. Keep going.|Attempt a dangerously vicious cheap shot.}
            *goto stratbrutal
    *if ((tactic1 = 3) and (tactic2 = 3))
        #@{(knowledge > 37) Is it really a good idea to continue on these lines? She's anticipating me.|Uh, okay, bad read, but she can't predict everything!}
            *if knowledge > 37
                Despite your misgivings, you can't think of an alternative in time.
     
            *goto stratstrat
    *elseif (tactic2 = 3)
        ##@{(knowledge > 37) I have her figured out. Let's continue on these lines.|Vantage has no idea what I'll do next! Keep at it!}
            *goto stratstrat
    *else
        #@{(knowledge > 37) Use my understanding of Vantage's powers to devise a strategy.|If her powers are predictive, then I'll beat her with unpredictability.}
            *goto stratstrat
    
*label phase3
*if (fightscore = 3)
    *set voutcome 2
    *page_break
    You and Vantage stare each other down. She's breathing heavily, streaked with sweat. @{juiceless Despite your episode, you're|You're} holding up, keeping fatigue at arm's length for now.
    
    The moment snaps. Vantage charges, jaw tightly locked. You brace for her assault, meet a baton swing with @{armour an armoured|a membranous} forearm, the defence so firm her arm jolts, breaking her stance.
    
    Here we go.
    
    *if tactic3 = 3
        You swipe a tendril at her feet. As she moves to evade, you bring the other tendril in at head height. She blocks, but that leaves her open to a rapidfire punching combination. @{(knowledge > 37) Stay unpredictable, you remind yourself.|You let instinct carry you along, never dwelling on any one move.} Your low tendril flicks out, snaring Vantage's ankle, your high tendril wraps her shoulders. You've got all the leverage you need to step inward and slam her hard to the floor. Crunch.
        
        *goto groundbreak
        
    *else
        @{tactic3 Seizing Vantage by the arm with hand and tendril, you grab a fistful of her bodysuit. With a roar of effort, you hoist Vantage into the air and then bring her crashing back down with everything you've got.|You wrap a tendril around her arm, parry her struggling attempts to fight free, and then combo a straight-arm, straight-tendril lariat to the head, slamming her hard to the floor. You pop up to your feet, vaulting backwards. Something [i]moved[/i] underneath Vantage.|*bug knowledge tactic shouldn't be accessible at this multireplace|Flashing your fanged tendril at Vantage's face, she jerks back, giving you the space you need to lower your shoulder and ram it into her abdomen.|*bug carapacemuay thai shouldn't be accessible here|*bug adaptable shouldn't be accessible here|Holding Vantage at bay with your fists and one tendril, you focus on the other, bulking it out more and more. Far too unwieldy for normal use, but for a quick tactic, it'll do. You palm strike Vantage in the chin, stunning her briefly, and then bring your tree trunk of a tendril overhead. The ponderous swing would be an easy dodge for a fresh foe. Vantage reacts too late, and you simply crush her to the floor with a thud.|The close quarters provoke Vantage into throwing a sharp knee to your body. Catching her by the calf, you deliver a scorching kick to her standing leg, hacking it from underneath her. She crashes to the floor. You stomp on her chest for good measure, then vault backwards. Something [i]moved[/i] underneath her.|Flashing your talons at Vantage's face makes her jerk back, opening up the space for you to...|}
        
        @{(tactic3 = 4) Well. Technically it's the reverse. Your shoulder maw yawns open. Her lower body is [i]in[/i] your mouth. You bite. The taste of blood brings a euphoric surge, the desire to tear and devour. You cling desperately to control, fending off your compulsion to chew and rip and eat and eat and—|} @{(tactic3 = 9) No delicate way to put this. You slam your knee below the belt and Vantage folds like a deckchair. If she's judging you for fighting dirty, you may as well get your money's worth. Stomping on her chest for good measure, you immediately vault backwards. Something [i]moved[/i] underneath her.|}
        
        @{(tactic3 = 4) You dive forward, slamming Vantage to the floor with a crash. You detach your maw and scuttle backwards, fleeing from the dark urges.|}
        
        @{(tactic3 = 4) You're salivating from both of your mouths. Bile creeps into your throat. Fortunate, then, that you get a timely distraction.|}
        
        *goto groundbreak
*elseif (fightscore = 2)
    *set voutcome 3
    *page_break
    You and Vantage stare each other down. You're both breathing heavily, and you're doing what you can to hold fatigue at arm's length. Three rounds with her and you're scarcely any closer to making a getaway. You need to make something happen, and soon.
    
    Vantage shares that opinion and charges, face etched with determination. You clash, break apart, clash again, exchanging flurries of strikes, nothing decisive.
    
    The end comes with a stumble. You step on the wrong rubble at the wrong angle, and suddenly your footing is skidding from underneath you. Vantage seizes the moment, springing to attack. Already half-falling, you make a desperate grab at her shoulders and go for the only move still available. Tucking your legs, you kick out, launching Vantage over your head as she drives you to the floor, crushing the breath from your lungs. Just about mustering the breath to roll over, you see Vantage climbing to her feet a short distance away.
    
    She takes a single step towards you. Stops. The ground beneath her shifts. Shudders.
    
    *goto fallaway
    
*else
    You and Vantage stare each other down. You're edging towards exhaustion, breathing heavily, struggling to maintain your fighting form. Vantage looks in much better condition, upright and fully focused. You need to make something happen, and soon.
    
    Vantage shares that opinion and charges. You mount as good a defence as you're able, but she's relentless, breaking your guard and peppering you with strikes that drive you further and further onto the retreat.
    
    Your back bumps against a wall and Vantage pounces, shoulderchecking you into unforgiving concrete then tagging you in the head with @{batons her|a} baton. You reel, try to spin clear, but there's nowhere to go. A succession of brutal punches to your body drive the wind and the fight out of you before Vantage drags you upright and pins you against the chasm wall, baton laid across your throat.
    
    "Three strikes, you're out," says Vantage, grinning tightly, face inches from yours.
    *goto badtime

*label groundbreak
The ground shifts. Shudders.

*label fallaway
And then falls away entirely.

You've a split second to lash out your tendrils, snatching a grip on solid ground to arrest your drop. Vantage isn't so fortunate. Right at the centre of this new sinkhole, she simply plunges from sight with a literally earth-shattering crash.

*label vantagepit
As the dust settles, you see the hero sprawled a good ten feet below, partially buried in rubble. Shoot, is that water down there too? 

Either way, it's an opening if you ever saw one.
*choice
    #No time to lose. Get moving.
        Five heroes still on the board. You can't dawdle.

    #Thanks, tendrils.
        They're not so bad on occasion.
        
    *selectable_if (tumble) #I am so over all these falls.
        You'd like to go five minutes without dropping into a pit.
        
    *if (fightscore = 3) #@{(confidence < 3) I actually beat her. Wow.|Knew all along I could win.}
        @{(confidence < 3) Might be time for you to show more confidence.|Consider your shot called.}
        
    *if (fightscore = 2) #Hmph. I almost had her.
        The fight wasn't over and you were far from down and out. You feel cheated.
        
        Next time, perhaps.
        
    *if (fightscore = 2) #I got lucky.
        Vantage had you on the ropes; you suppose karma owes you a few kickbacks.
        
    #She isn't dead, right?
        @{killthink The notion you could have killed her sets your gut squirming.|It'd be frustrating to get blamed for what's near enough an accident.|If you wind up with a murderous reputation, you'd like it to at least be from an intentional killing.}
        
        As you look on from above, you see Vantage stir, several of the rocks covering her tumbling away. @{(killthink = 1) If you weren't currently hanging from appendages attached to your shoulders, they'd have slumped in relief.|For now, your hands remain bloodless.}
        
        Alright, that's @{(killthink = 1) as much reassurance as you're going to get.|all the time you can spare.}

*if fightscore = 3
    *set timepass 3
    *achieve vantagewin

*else
    *set timepass 3

*goto portraitghoul

*label repeatouch
*set fightscore -1
*if (inarow)
    @{dupetactic You're committing. In a word: charge!|You hover at a distance, keeping your guard up.|You prepare to continue with your off-beat assault.|Maybe you can chew up both batons. Maybe you've got a taste for wood.|Keeping your carapace flexible and stance ready, you move in.|Can't run away again, but you sure can stay agile and evasive!|You coil your tendrils up, layering them around your upper arms. Ready as you can be to merge them.|You slip back into your Muay Thai stance.|These claws aren't going anywhere.|DUMMY}
    
    *label vantageacts
    Vantage's eyes flicker across you, and then she moves. No faster than she's already demonstrated, but fluid, almost effortless. @{dupetactic Your charge is wild, Vantage simply gone.|Her strikes are perfect, piercing your block over and over.|Where you swing, whether it's throwing a rock or a tendril, Vantage simply isn't there.|You snap and swipe and claw, but Vantage simply isn't there for your swings to hit.|You bolster your membrane, you target her with elbows and knees, but Vantage simply isn't there.|Wherever you turn, Vantage is already there, no matter how you spring and misdirect and juke, Vantage keeps up.|You don't even get the chance to combine your limbs, Vantage piercing your guard over and over.|Every swing, every elbow and knee, it comes to naught. Vantage simply isn't there.|Your talons bite nothing but air. Wherever you swing, Vantage is not.|DUMMY} Time and again, Vantage's fists or @{batons baton|batons} thud home, rocking you repeatedly.
    
    You're only spared the onslaught when you, desperately trying to fend her off, take a backward step onto a section of ground that collapses underfoot, sending you pitching down a short rubble slope and clear of Vantage for just long enough to escape her reach.
    
*else
    Mixing up your strategy should keep her guessing. Even better that it's something that already worked.
    
    *goto vantageacts
    
*if battlephase = 2
    @{(expressive > 45) Fuck!|Dammit!} You got precogged hard.
    
    *goto phase2b
    
*else
    Turns out mixing up your strategy does not, in fact, keep her guessing. Fucking precogs.
    
    *goto phase3

*label repeatbruh
*set mc_health 3
*set vantagebeating 2
*set injurydesc 9
*set timepass 3

Surely this time will be different.

- Famous last words of $!{fullname}, noted supervillain.

Vantage actually laughs as you @{dupetactic try once again to attack.|attempt to pull your defences back together.|bring your tendrils into action again.|bristle with your alterations.|return once again to your fighting stance.|begin bobbing on your heels, ready to react in the moment|yet again enfold your arms with the tendrils.|return once again to your fighting stance.|flex your claws yet again.|DUMMY} "I've already got you loaded. If this is the best you can come up with, you may as well give up."

Gritting your teeth, you give her no reply, flowing into motion. Vantage's expression sobers and…

Well, there's no delicate way to put this. You get your ass kicked even harder, barely managing a token defence against the barrage of pinpoint strikes.

Before you know it, Vantage has you pinned against the chasm wall, @{batons her|a} baton across your throat.

"Like I said…" Vantage is grinning tightly, face inches from yours.
*label badtime
*set poutcome 4
*set ghouldvibrations true
*set voutcome 4
*choice
    #Better start hoping for a teammate to bail me out.
        *set hope true
        You've exhausted your options. Vantage has got you beat.
        
        "Let's get you wrapped up snug, huh?" she says, reaching for a hip pouch.
        
        So yeah, if Wyrd or Architect or anyone else wants to jump in, now would be just perfect.
        
    #Try to punch her while her guard is down.
        You land a solid shot to the kidney, but you don't have enough space to put any real force behind it. Vantage grunts, reapplies the choke, and repays you with a swift forearm to the abdomen, knocking the wind from you. A second punch is barely worthy of the name. 
        
        Vantage sighs tersely. "Enough. You aren't—"
        
    #My mind's a blank. I screwed this up big time.
        You thought you could win, or at least fend her off long enough to get out of dodge.
        
        What are you supposed to do? Your head's devoid of any clever last ditch ploys.  She's got you dead to rights.
        
        "Now, if you'll just sit tight—"
        
    #...I guess that's that. I'm done.
        In a way, you're relieved.
        
        No more lies. No more of the Coven. No more fighting for the man who stole your life.
        
        You tip your head back and rest it on the wall.
        
        "Smart," says Vantage. "Now how about—"
        
    *if ((node) or (nodes)) #This would be a great time for the @{node node|nodes} to bother helping.
        You couldn't think of a way to get @{node it|them} involved with the fight itself. Now, @{node it|they} might just be your sole remaining out..
        
        Here's hoping @{node it's|they're} feeling cooperative. You concentrate on your mental connection.
        
        [i]eat. feed. bite.[/i]
        
        Scuttling, skittering. Vantage tilts her head. "Wait…"
        
        [i]eat![/i]
        
        She twists, batting @{node the|a} leaping node out of the air. "I don't think so!" She snaps back to you, reapplying the choke before you can slip free. "These are in the model $!{mask}!" 
        
        Her gloating is short-lived.

*set speed 2
"Vantage! Incoming!"

The warning is too late. An alligator-like creature suddenly careens into Vantage at speed, crushing her against you and you both against the wall. Vantage's head slams hard into the concrete and she drops back, stunned. You stumble away from the wall, willing your battered body to remain upright. As for your saviour, you look across the chasm floor to see Ghoul zipping around like a hyperactive cat, Portrait and a gorilla-esque construct trailing some distance in ${whis} wake.

"Got-your-back, $!{mask}!" Ghoul shouts cheerily, balancing atop a rubble pile on a single foot.

@{hope Well shit. What do you know?|}
*choice
    #Hail ${whim} for saving my ass.
        It takes you a second to gather enough breath to call out. "Thanks, Ghoul!" you eventually manage. You owe ${whim} a beverage of ${whis} choice. Multiple, even.
        
        Ghoul shoots you double fingerguns, vibrating in place.
        
    #What the heck has got into ${whim}?
        Ghoul's downright manic, buzzing with unnatural energy. That can't be fighting adrenaline alone. Something to do with ${whis} power? $!{whe}'s always been evasive about the specifics of ${whis} abilities.
        
        No time for speculation. You're still in the thick of it.
        
    #Look alive! Ghoul's given me another shot!
        Easier said than done. Your body is slow to respond, your lungs reluctant to draw breath. Ghoul's intervention has pulled your ass from the fire, but battle rarely gives opportunities for one to sit and take a breather.
    
Nearby, Vantage is clambering back to her feet. You grimace. Even setting yourself into a fighting stance hurts, and she already got the best of you once.

Fortunately, Ghoul has no intention of leaving you to deal with her alone. $!{whe} darts over the rubble and seizes the sprawled, stunned alligator construct by the tail with the slightest grunt of effort. Ghoul swings the creature overhead like a club, slamming it down onto Vantage and flattening her back to the floor. Ghoul whoops, striking a pose.

Rock grinds. $!{whe} hesitates. "Uh…"

The ground falls away, taking ${whim}, Vantage, and Portrait's construct with it. There's a literally earth-shattering crash as you desperately cling to the edge of this new sinkhole.
*choice
    #Calmly call out to Ghoul.
        *if romance_wil > 1
            *if expressive > 30
                "Ghoul? Ghoul, are you alright!?" …it's harder than you thought to keep it cool. Your mind and heart are racing. ${whe} better not be hurt.
        
            *else
                "Ghoul? You alright?" Your voice holds steady, even if your heart is pounding. No. ${whe}'s fine. You know it.
            
        *else
            *if expressive > 40
                "Ghoul! You alright!?" …perhaps calm is too tall an order at the moment.
                
            *else
                "Ghoul? You alright?" Your voice and nerves hold steady.

        *label ghoulokay
        "I'm okay!" shouts Ghoul, between coughing fits. You let out a long breath.
        
        *label dustsettle
        As the dust finally begins to settle, you see a dark silhouette that slowly resolves into a Ghoul thoroughly caked in powdered concrete. @{(romance_wil > 1) To your relief,|Thankfully,} ${whe}'s upright and seemingly unhurt, which is more than can be said for Vantage, partially buried in rubble. The construct is nowhere to be seen, though Portrait himself is standing at the opposite rim of the sinkhole, gorilla by his side. @{thinkingwil You wonder briefly what happened to the third of the trio, but there are more pressing matters at hand.|}
        
        Ghoul's head swivels first to Portrait, then to you, and ${whe} gives you a thumbs up. "Don't-worry-about-me! I'll-make-my-own-way!" Even that crazy spill hasn't put a dent in ${whis} mania. 
        
        The sinkhole spans the width of the chasm floor, a gaping divide cutting Ghoul and Portrait off from everyone else. Given the beating you've already taken and the daunting climb ahead to escape the Zone, you just don't have enough left in the tank to lend Ghoul a hand.
        
        You call back:
        *choice
            #"Be careful!"
                "Will-do!"
                
                …was that a pun?
                
                Doesn't matter. Wil's waving you off and ${whe}'s correct, it's time to go.
                
            #"if you get yourself busted, I'll be very annoyed with you!"
                "Wouldn't-be-caught-dead-in-orange!"
                
                You roll your eyes. Well, if ${whe} can quip, ${whe} should be fine. Best focus on yourself.
                
            #"Trusting you here!"
                "Won't-let-you-down! Now-get-out-of-here!"
                
                Fair. You flex your tendrils and prepare to follow ${whis} command.
                
            #Nothing at all. Mission comes first.
                You both know what you need to do. With a final nod, you pull your attention from your @{(romance_wil > 1) more-than |}comrade.
                
        *goto climbintofight
    #Uncalmly call out to Ghoul.
        *if romance_wil > 1
            "Ghoul? Ghoul! Talk to me!" No, no. Your mind and heart race in tandem. ${whe} has to be alright. ${whe} [i]has[/i] to be.
            
        *else
            "Ghoul! Holy shit, you alright!?"
            
        *goto ghoulokay
    #Try and spot ${whim} in the rubble.
        *set instinctive %- 7
        *if romance_wil > 1
            It's pretty damn difficult to detach yourself enough to simply take a look, hanging tight where you are. @{(romance_wil = 2) You like Wil, ${whe}'s fun and you don't want to see ${whim} hurt.|You have a lot of emotions tied up in Wil. You couldn't stand to see ${whim} hurt.}
            
            You hold to logic, cold and unpleasant. Diving down after ${whim} isn't going to help. Might even make the situation worse.
            
        *else
            Logic dictates that diving down after ${whim} is like as not to make the situation worse. No, you need to hang tight and get a sense for things, [i]then[/i] act.
       
        Seconds tick by. Then a few more. You clench your teeth.
        
        *goto dustsettle
    #...At least ${whe} got Vantage too?
        Silver linings and all that.
        
        You don't want ${whim} hurt, @{(romance_wil > 1) not with your feelings for ${whim} being what they are. but there's nothing you can do.|but it is what it is.} 
        
        *goto dustsettle
    #Dammit! ${whe} didn't need to do that!
        The save was enough! $!{whe} should have let you handle the rest of your mess yourself!
        
        Jaw clenched, you stare daggers into the cloud of debris obscuring the view below.
        
        *goto dustsettle
    *selectable_if (interest_wil) #I panic. Wil! No!
        "Ghoul! Ghoul, are you alright!?"
        
        *if (brokenheart < 5)
            Not this. Please not this. @{(brokenheart = 2) |Haven't you been through enough?}
            
            *if brokenheart = 2
                @{(romance_wil > 2) Prii before. Wil now.|You didn't even get the chance to tell ${whim}.}
         
            No, no. You can't—
        
        *else
            *if romance_wil > 1
                @{(romance_wil = 2) You haven't even had the chance to have fun, get properly close to {whim}.|You just told each other your feelings. Now this?}
      
            *else
                *set thinkingwil true
                You don't know where this fear is coming from, seizing your chest and setting your mind awhirl.
                
        *goto ghoulokay

*label portraitghoul
You clamber back to terra firma. Or terra not-imminently-collapsing. With Vantage out of the picture, you can take a second to assess. Your struggles have pulled you some distance from the rest of the combatants. If you decide to dip out, none of the Hounds are in a position to stop you.

On the other hand, you're not so far you can't see Ghoul dashing all about, Portrait's monochrome trio in hot pursuit. With the animal constructs blocking your teammate's path to their master, you can't see how ${whe}'s going to manage this alone.
*choice
    #Help Ghoul.
        No way are you leaving a @{(romance_wil > 1) more-than|} teammate in the lurch.
        
        @{ranaway You've run enough.|You're not weak. Not anymore.}
        
        As you round the sinkhole, the speediest of Portrait's constructs—a slithering serpent unhindered by the rough ground—catches up to Ghoul, swiping at ${whis} feet and almost tripping ${whim}. Ghoul slaps the serpent in the face, briefly disorienting it, and then vaults over the snapping grey jaws of a construct alligator. Ghoul makes a break towards Portrait, who backpedals hastily. Before Ghoul can reach him, the third construct—a gorilla—intercepts, shoulderchecking your teammate and forcing ${whim} back onto the defensive.
        
        *label helpghoul
        *choice
            #Go straight for Portrait.
                Cut off the head and the body will follow.
                
                What's the plan?
                *choice
                    #Hit him very hard.
                        Fair enough.
                        
                        You charge, pedal to the metal. Portrait wheels around, spots you coming, and full-body flinches.
                        
                        *if guts > 23
                            *set poutcome 2
                            Fatigue drags at your heels, but you refuse to slow, drawing on your reserves of stamina to power through and forcing a fresh surge of speed into your legs. You're on top of Portrait before he can rally, a whirlwind of fist and tendril. He gets his stave-brush up for one strike, a second, and then you're sweeping him up in your galeforce assault. Once, twice, and again you drive your knuckles into his face, beating him into the ground.
                            
                            *label constructcrumble
                            With their master laid out on the floor the constructs go completely still, then slowly begin crumbling to dust.
                            
                            *label ghoulthanks
                            "Thanks, $!{mask}!" Ghoul calls, hands on ${whis} knees. After a moment to catch ${whis} breath, ${whe} straightens. "See you on the other side!" $!{whe} rushes off along the chasm floor. Seems ${whe}'s following Architect's lead by scattering. That leaves you to head in the opposite direction.
                            
                            *goto biggerfight
                            
                        *else 
                            *set poutcome 3
                            *set speed +1
                            Fatigue drags at your heels. Despite your best efforts, your pace slows on leaden legs. Portrait shakes off his alarm and sets himself to meet your assault.
                            
                            You throw fist and tendril. Portrait manages to jab you in the ribs with his stave-brush, clip you in the head, and then you punch through his guard for a straight shot to the face. He's not much of a fighter, but he doesn't have to be; he only has to stall for the arrival of his gorilla, which barrels into your blindside and sends you flying. You roll once, halting yourself with your tendrils a couple inches from tumbling into the sinkhole. As you pick yourself up, the gorilla construct is rushing towards you, hellbent on launching you over the edge.
                            
                            *label ghouldropkick
                            "Oh no you don't!" Ghoul comes crashing into the gorilla with the ugliest dropkick you've ever seen. $!{whe} springs back up and points you along the chasm floor. "$!{mask}! Get going! I've got this handled!"
                            *choice
                                #$!{whis} choice.
                                    You tried to help, ${whe}'s turning the help down. That puts it out of your hands.
                                    
                                #I'm reluctant, but there's no time to argue.
                                    You're just going to have to trust that Ghoul's up to the task. Too much going on to start debating strategy.
                                    
                                #This is embarrassing.
                                    Ghoul bailing you out isn't how you drew this one up.
                                    
                            With a brief nod, you make a break past the remaining constructs and leave Ghoul to battle it out.
                            *goto biggerfight
                    #Act as a distraction, win an opening for Ghoul.
                        *set poutcome 2
                        *set speed +1
                        "Portrait! Think fast!"
                        
                        You ball up your tendril and flick it out in a throwing motion. Portrait frantically ducks.
                        
                        That you didn't actually toss anything at him will be your little secret. What matters is the threat, and gaining Portrait's attention.
                        
                        Portrait begins gesturing wildly with his stave-brush. First the gorilla, then the alligator peel off from chasing Ghoul to intercept you.
                        
                        Attention gained. You break into a run, feinting that you're trying to get to Portrait while pulling the constructs further and further to the side. The alligator suddenly lunges for you and you twist, catching its snapping jaws before they can bite home.
                        
                        *goto thecorner
                    #Make myself impossible to ignore. Draw the defenders to me.
                        *set poutcome 2
                        *set speed +1
                        Nobody could ever accuse your powers of over-subtlety.
                        
                        All you have to do is stomp forward, tendrils flared around you, and Portrait wheels around in shock. He gestures wildly with his stave-brush, and first the gorilla, then the alligator peel off from chasing Ghoul to intercept you.
                        
                        The goal's more to look big and scary than take the constructs out, so that's your focus. The gorilla winds up a massive haymaker and you block with your tendrils, batting it aside@{(guts < 30) —something requiring much more effort than you let on—|with relative ease }and continuing your march towards Portrait. Spooked, Portrait waves his brush again, and you turn to catch the alligator by the jaws, straining to hold it at bay as it snaps at you.
                        
                        *label thecorner
                        In the corner of your eye, Ghoul spins away from the serpent and dashes towards Portrait, arm outstretched. Before the Hound can react, Ghoul clasps his wrist.
                        
                        Portrait's legs immediately buckle. The alligator's snout crumbles to dust in your hands. Ghoul releases Portrait and decks him with a right hook. Your teammate zips over to you in an instant, launching a kick that sends the gorilla flying.
                        
                        *label ghoulvibrates
                        *set ghouldvibrations true
                        Ghoul vibrates with unnatural—parahuman?—energy, ${whis} teeth chattering. "Thanks, $!{mask}! I'm-good-to-go! See-you-on-the-other-side!" $!{whis} words are tripping over themselves to escape ${whis} mouth. You don't even get a chance to respond before ${whe} tears off along the chasm floor.
                        
                        …You suppose that leaves the opposite direction to you, and get moving before Portrait recovers.
                        *goto biggerfight
                    #He hasn't seen me yet. Flanking manoeuvre! 
                        Using your tendrils to navigate over the uneven terrain, you circle around to one side. Portrait has Ghoul and three constructs to track, he'll have a hard time noticing you.
                        
                        *if subterfuge > 34
                            *set poutcome 2
                            Scuttling along like the world's biggest spider, you make your way entirely into Portrait's blind spot. He's fixed on the fight in front of him, and he doesn't so much as glance in your direction.
                            
                            You almost feel a little bad as you slam a tendril into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
                            
                            *goto constructcrumble
                        *else
                            *set speed +1
                            *set poutcome 3
                            Hard, but apparently not impossible. As you make your way towards Portrait's blind spot, his head turns slightly, and then he does a full double take. With an alarmed step back, Portrait gestures with his stave-brush, causing the gorilla construct to peel off to intercept you.
                            
                            Dammit.
                            
                            You're out of position for this; you have to stop to face the gorilla, and it's already on top of you by the time you're prepared to defend. A ham hock of a fist crushes into your guard, sending you head over heels. You pick yourself up as fast as you can, but the gorilla's lumbering after you, winding up for its next punch—
                            
                            *goto ghouldropkick
                    *selectable_if (fighting_style = 2) #Portrait almost panicked just now. If I get close, I'll force a mistake.
                        *set poutcome 2
                        Everything you've seen suggests that Portrait prefers to sit back from the fight and let his constructs do the work. Get him out of his element and he'll blunder.
                        
                        You make no effort to mask your approach, thundering towards the hero with tendrils spread wide. He wheels around, spots you, and full-body flinches. He gestures wildly with his stave-brush and the gorilla skids to a halt, aborting its chase to clumsily lurch back to its master.
                        
                        Too slow, you're already right on top of Portrait, full aggro. He wants no part of you, but while his quarterstaff whacks solidly into your ribs, there's no getting away as you strike and strike again.
                        
                        The gorilla lumbers into your periphery. Portrait signals desperately with his hand. Would have made for a great pincer attack if you didn't know it was coming. You wait until the last second and then snag Portrait with your tendrils, wrenching him around to get utterly creamed by a haymaker from his own construct.
                        
                        Portrait crumples. The constructs follow suit.
                        
                        *goto ghoulthanks
            #Even the fight against the constructs.
                Portrait won't be much of a threat on his own.
                
                What's the plan?
                *choice
                    #They aren't alive. I can cut loose.
                        *set poutcome 2
                        No need to hold back.
                        
                        You flex your membrane, feeling the strength thrumming within. Then you charge into the fight.
                        
                        First, free up Ghoul. You ram tendrils first into the gorilla construct, pistoning the coiled appendages with lethal force. Something crunches, and then your tendrils are plunging through the construct's chest, showering the area in black dust. Straining with all your might, you hoist the creature in the air and hurl it across the bottom of the chasm. The serpent twists to intercept your attack, mouth gaping wide as it lunges with its massive fangs. You twist to the side, coiling your tendrils around the serpent's neck.
                        
                        Who constricts the constrictor? That'd be you.
                        
                        Squeezing down, you wind the tendrils tighter and tighter until the construct's integrity gives way and off pops its head in another dust cloud.
                        
                        The alligator backs away while the gorilla struggles to hold together, shedding dust all over the place. Behind them, Portrait frantically swishes his brush.
                        
                        *goto ghoulgotit
                    #Work with Ghoul to whittle them down.
                        *set speed +1
                        *set poutcome 2
                        "Ghoul! Over here!" you call. $!{whe} spares you a brief glance and then switches direction, eluding another snap of construct jaws to dart past and run to your side.
                        
                        "You're a sight for sore eyes," ${whe} says, panting softly. "Not been having fun at the zoo."
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) "Time to stop monkeying around then," you quip. Ghoul groans.|"Less quip, more focus," you reply. Ghoul nods.}
                        
                        The trio of constructs moves in, their master hanging back at a safe distance and occasionally gesturing with his stave-brush to—you think—issue commands. The gorilla lumbers forward swinging its ham hock of a fist, and it's on. 
                        
                        Portrait swiftly discovers that while his constructs can handle Ghoul in a three vs. one, three vs. two is another story. The pair of you watch each other's backs, preventing attacks from the blind side. The serpent lunges for Ghoul's leg, you kick the construct aside. The alligator pounces at you, Ghoul drives it into the ground. As your own strikes land home, the constructs begin to falter, shedding puffs of dust with each fresh hit.
                        
                        You and Ghoul share a look, a moment of unspoken understanding, and attack simultaneously. You smash your tendrils into the serpent's head, Ghoul jams their hand through the gorilla's head. Straight through. Both constructs crumble into black dust. Alone, the alligator backs away as Portrait frantically swishes his brush.
                        
                        *label ghoulgotit
                        "$!{mask}, I've got it from here. Get going!" Ghoul sounds resolute. You weigh up the situation, and then nod, spinning away to head in the opposite direction.
                        
                        *goto biggerfight
                    #Hit and run. Drag them around, disrupt positioning.
                        *set speed +1
                        *set poutcome 2
                        Ghoul isn't doing too badly, ${whe} just needs an opening. You reckon you can make one.
                        
                        You hustle into the action, making no effort to hide yourself. Immediately, Portrait gestures with his stave-brush, directing the gorilla to intercept. Adjusting, you rush at the construct, deliver a jumping kick to its chest, and then push off from that same foot, regaining a little distance. You're springing away before the ape finishes reeling. You feint as if attacking Portrait, then stop short, sprinting off in the opposite direction and crashing into the alligator, bowling both you and construct over.
                        
                        Scrambling clear, you lovetap the serpent in the back of the head, dip past the gorilla once again, and find yourself exactly in the middle of all three constructs.
                        
                        This may be a miscalculation—you whirl, catching the alligator by the jaws before its teeth can sink home. Straining, you barely hold the bite at bay.
                        
                        *goto thecorner
                    #Focus on knocking them away, not taking them out.
                        Escaping is winning. You only need buy Ghoul the time and space.
                        
                        There's plenty of animals in this fight, how about adding a bull to the mix? You charge into the action, beelining for the gorilla construct. Portrait spots you coming and gestures with his stave-brush, rerouting the ape's attention. It turns, winding up a big fist.
                        
                        *if guts > 30
                            *set poutcome 2
                            
                            You twist, the punch glancing your shoulder, and then snag the gorilla's arm with yours. Your tendrils slither around its torso, then you drag it forward into a thrusting, staggering kick. Unbalanced, its easy prey for the sprinting follow-up kick that knocks it flying. Without breaking stride, you rush to the serpent, seize it by the tail with your tendrils, and then spin into a hammer throw, hurling it off into the distance—
                            
                            Oh, damn. Straight down the sinkhole. How many points is that worth?
                            
                            "Ghoul! Let's get out of here!" you call to your teammate, who just got done curbstomping the alligator's head.
                            
                            "I hear you!" ${whe} shouts back. "I've got this side! You take the other!" $!{whe} hares off towards the sinkhole, which you suppose leaves you to head in the opposite direction. Hopefully Ghoul can handle any further Portrait pursuit on ${whis} own.
                            *goto biggerfight
                        *else
                            *set poutcome 3
                            *set speed +1
                            You twist, but the punch still glances your shoulder, throwing off your balance. Your tendrils slither around the gorilla's torso and you yank it, intending to drag the construct forward into a kick.
                            
                            The ape doesn't budge. You tug again.
                            
                            Nada.
                            
                            Shit.
                            
                            You could swear that you see a leer on the gorilla's face as it raises both fists to pulverise you.
                            
                            *goto ghouldropkick
                    *selectable_if (fighting_style =1) #Take them to pieces, up close and personal.
                        *set poutcome 2
                        Not that you've made a habit of seeking fistfights at the zoo, but last you checked, animals aren't cut out for martial arts.
                        
                        Like, come on, snakes don't even have hands.
                        
                        The serpent is an easy first target as you enter the fight. You snapkick it under the snout, forcing it upward, and then grab either side of its head and drive your knee straight through the middle. The serpent's head bursts in a cloud of black dust.
                        
                        …Yeah sure, that works.
                        
                        Catching on to your arrival, Ghoul changes course, running to skid to a halt at your side, and then turning to face the pursuing alligator. Your opponent is the gorilla, which would probably be a top pick if a person [i]was[/i] to teach an animal to throw down. 
                        
                        The big grey ape sweeps a brawny arm at you, then the other. With fleet footwork, you dance clear. Move, move, counterpunch, move. The construct is powerful but clumsy, lacking the instinctive explosiveness of a living animal. It swings wildly and you step along with the movement, circling around and then throwing your whole body behind an elbow thrust to its head. Something cracks, and while there's no dusty detonation, the gorilla collapses onto its back with a massive dent in its—does a creature painted by a parahuman ability actually have a skull? You're not sure it does.
                        
                        Alongside you, Ghoul stomps a hole through the alligator construct's back, tearing ${whis} foot loose with a shower of dust. $!{whe} gives you a nod. "Thanks, $!{mask}! I've got it from here! Get going!"
                        
                        Fine, if ${whe} thinks ${whe} can handle the rest, ${whis} call. You nod back, and then begin dashing in the opposite direction.
                        
                        *goto biggerfight
                        
            *selectable_if ((nodes) or (node)) #These numbers are hardly fair, send in the @{nodes nodes|node}.
                *set poutcome 2
                You urge the @{node node|nodes} into motion and @{node it scuttles|they scuttle} towards the constructs.
                
                [i]blood. eat. hunt.[/i]
                
                @{node It's a little thing|They're little things}, dark-hued and close to the ground; Portrait's menagerie never sees @{node it|them} coming.
                
                *if (node)
                    It leaps onto the serpent's back, digging its dendrites into the ashen not-quite-flesh and then taking a gleeful chomp.
                    
                *else
                    They swarm. Two pounce upon the gorilla's legs, clinging tight, gnawing and nipping. The third latches onto the alligator's snout, taking a gleeful chomp out of the not-quite-flesh.
                    
                [i]bite. bite. eat?[/i]
                
                @{node Its|Their} consternation flows back to you, along with the taste of dust and grit. @{node It was|They were} anticipating gushing blood, the rush of feeding. Alas, the constructs make for unsatisfying prey, but you're not here to placate the @{node node|nodes}. With a sharp command, you suppress the @{node node's|nodes'} distaste, and @{node it resumes|they resume} munching away.
                
                @{node The serpent writhes, even rolls over in a bid to crush its unwelcome passenger,|Both gorilla and alligator go nuts, frantically scrambling to dislodge their unwelcome passengers} but to no avail as your little @{node friend|friends} steadily @{node chews its way into its body.|chew their way into their bodies.}
                    
                [i]not eat![/i]
                
                Really, the only limitation to this strategy is that the more annoyed the @{node node gets|nodes get}, the more @{node it broadcasts what it's tasting.|they broadcast what they're tasting.} You can't spit or clear your throat of this dry, claggy sensation when it isn't your mouth that's feeling it.
                
                Thankfully for your palate, an alarmed Portrait missteps, getting too close to the action as he aims his stave at @{node the|a} node to bat it away. That's the perfect opportunity for Ghoul, slipping around into his blindside and clapping a hand around his wrist before he can react. 
                
                Portrait's legs buckle. Ghoul releases him, then decks him with a right hook. The constructs crumple into even more dust. @{node Your node scuttles|Your nodes scuttle} back to you. If @{node it|they} had eyes, @{node it'd|they'd} be pointedly averting them to convey @{node its|their} displeasure.
                
                [i]not prey. hunt. bite. eat[/i]
                
                *goto ghoulvibrates
            *selectable_if (fighting_style = 3) #I think I've worked out a power interaction that'll ruin Portrait's day.
                *set poutcome 5
                *set ghouldvibrations true
                Wil's always been a little evasive about the specifics ${whis} abilities. 'I can drain energy' doesn't explain much by itself. As for Portrait, his constructs must take some toll on him. Otherwise, nothing would be stopping him from creating an endless supply of reinforcements.
                
                Meaning…
                
                "Ghoul!" you holler. $!{whe} rolls past a lumbering swipe from the gorilla and glances at you. "Don't bother with Portrait! Drain the constructs!"
        
                "That's not—" ${whe} fends off the serpent with a snapkick to the snout "—how my powers work!"
        
                "Just try!"
        
                "Rgh—fine!" Ghoul twists around the gorilla again, taking a glancing blow to the shoulder en route to clapping ${whis} hand upon its grey wrist.
        
                The construct slows, stiffens, and then crumbles to dust.
        
                "Oh, shit." Ghoul stares at ${whis} own hand.
        
                "Oh, shit!" Portrait opines.
                
                Ghoul glances at you—you can just imagine ${whim} grinning from ear to ear—fires off a jaunty salute, and then tears into motion, blurring with unnatural energy. $!{whe} latches on to the serpent's tail and it goes the way of the gorilla, crumbling away. Portrait blanches, gesturing with his stave-brush to command his surviving creature to retreat.
                
                "I've-got-things-from-here, $!{mask}!" calls Ghoul. "See-you-on-the-other-side!" $!{whe} races towards Portrait, somehow even faster.
                
                Yeah, that works. Leaves you to head in the opposite direction.
                *goto biggerfight
    #Cut and run.
        *if (ranaway)
            You freeze, midway through turning to flee.
            
            Running. Again.
            
            [i]"$!{mc_name}!"[/i]
            
            You don't know who shouted your name, down there in the dark. In this moment, your memory conjures Prii's voice.
            *choice
                #I can't abandon them again.
                    So often, @{guilt your guilt has swallowed you whole. They all needed you, and you fled.|you've told yourself you ran to survive, hidden from your own judgement.|you've tried and failed to convince yourself you made your best effort. You went back! Doesn't that count?}
                    
                    @{(guilt =3) Of course not.|} Coward. Worthless.
                    
                    Your legs move unbidden. You have to help. You must.
                    
                    *goto helpghoul
                #Shut it out and leave.
                    You're not a coward. You're not a coward. You're not a coward.
                    
                    *goto cutandrun
    
        *elseif (romance_wil > 1)
            You take one step in the opposite direction. Hesitate.
            
            This is what you're doing? Right after@{(romance_wil = 4)  forging that connection with ${whim}?|—whatever it is you've formed between you?}
            
            Wil's on ${whis} own.
            
            *if (dating)
                *if (dated_beth)
                    Are you going to do to ${whim} what Beth did to you?
                    *choice
                        #No. No I'm not.
                            @{(battitude = 1) She had somebody to protect. You'd just be looking out for yourself.|You're not putting Wil through even a fraction of what you've endured.}
                            
                            You have to help. $!{whe} needs you.
                            
                            *goto helpghoul
                        #...This isn't the same.
                            That wasn't a battle, that was ordinary, scared people facing down death. Beth had the power. You didn't. 
                            
                            Wil's not as defenceless as you were.
                            
                            *goto tellyourself
                *else
                    You couldn't help $!{prev_li} then. What about Wil now?
                    *choice
                        #I have to help ${whim}.
                            All these years of wishing you could have done more. Berating your own weakness, only to turn tail and run at the first opportunity?
                            
                            No. You refuse.
                            
                            *goto helpghoul
                        
                        #Things are different.
                            Wil doesn't need you to babysit ${whim}. $!{whe}'s got powers of ${whis} own.
                            
                            *label tellyourself
                            Tell yourself enough times and maybe it'll ring a little less hollow.
                            
                            *goto cutandrun
            
        *else
            Ghoul chose to go after Portrait, that's ${whis} problem to deal with.
            
            You've got yourself to take care of.
            
*label cutandrun
*set poutcome 1
Spinning away from Ghoul, Portrait, and the constructs, you hustle along the chasm floor, seeking a route up and out.

Within moments, your search is rudely and abruptly interrupted.
*goto biggerfight
*label climbintofight
Clambering back to terra firma—or terra not-imminently-collapsing—you see Portrait doing the opposite on the far side of the sinkhole, riding his gorilla construct's shoulder as it climbs down. @{thinkingwil You're stuck thinking about your reaction to Wil's fall. Apparently your feelings run a level deeper than you realised, and that's a whole lot to unpack—|You wonder briefly after the unaccounted third construct, conclude that Ghoul must have taken it out already, and then far more pressing matters occupy your attention.}

*label biggerfight
*page_break A laser streaks by.
@{thinkingwil Okay world, message received. Hounds now, unpack later. You swing around,|It's almost nostalgic. You curse, swinging around and} on alert, but the shot wasn't aimed at you. 

No, the blast emerged from the battle raging nearby. Fracture, missing a chunk of bone from his forearm, knocks Enfilade flat with a clubbing blow of his macelike fist. A metal stake has pierced his leg, hampering his movements even further, leaving him vulnerable as Phalanx lines up a ramming attack from behind, shieldfirst. Rampage intervenes, leaping, crashing a kick into the shield with an explosion of sparks. Phalanx flies off course, the shield briefly dragging her before she rights herself. In turn Arcade unleashes a volley of lasers, preventing Rampage from pursuing his comrade. Fine by Rampage; she diverts course and goes straight after Arcade instead, forcing him to dive aside.

You couldn't avoid the brawl even if you wanted to. The only way out is through the chaos.

*choice
    #Chaos? More like cover. I'll pick a Hound off by surprise.
        The ink black tones of membrane and tendril give you a significant advantage in stealth. You blend right into the darkness.
        
        Of course with Arcade blasting lasers every which way, darkness becomes relative. You have to move quickly.
        
        Slipping from shadow to shadow, you stay low to the ground, almost dropping to all fours at points. Enfilade's back is to you as you slip behind some rubble. Wait a moment, then another. Then spring your ambush.
        
        *if subterfuge > 35
            Couldn't have drawn it up better. The first the Hounds know of your presence is the moment your bring your tendrils clubbing into the back of Enfilade's neck and drop her to the ground. You hit her again to make sure.
            
            Your own teammates look about as surprised as the Hounds at your sudden appearance, but they both react quickly to jump to your side. Arcade and Phalanx regroup opposite you.
            *goto facethehounds
            
        *else
            *set goutcome 2
            
            *if mc_health < 3
                *set mc_health 3
                *set injurydesc 9
                
            *else
                *set mc_health 4
                *set injurydesc 9
                
            *set getspiked 2
            *set injurydesc 9
            At the last moment your stealth fails you, an errant step moving you that little bit too far from the shadows. Enfilade catches you from the corner of her eye and turns, raising her arm, synthskin peeled back to expose the launcher within. You swing your tendrils anyway—too late to divert—and club her in the face, hearing in the same instant a mechanical thunk. A spike of agony pierces your shoulder as you tangle together and go down in a messy heap. Enfilade struggles, digging short punches into your kidneys. Fighting through the pain, you drive your forearm down into her head, once, twice, again. She goes limp.
            
            Before you can get your bearings you're hit by a massive blow from the side and knocked away. Your head ringing with the impact, Phalanx stands over you for a split second, then is evicted by a high voltage charge from Rampage.
            
            Finally, you have the opportunity to drag yourself back to your feet, discovering that spike is an apropos description; Enfilade has staked you through the shoulder. Gritting your teeth, you seal your membrane around the injury as tightly as you can. Rampage jumps back to your side, Fracture sets himself just ahead. The remaining pair of Hounds regroup opposite you.
            *label facethehounds
            *page_break
            *label tumbleweed
            Villains and heroes stare each other down. The air is oppressively thick, tension even moreso.
            
            You catch yourself looking for a tumbleweed; though if this is a Wild West standoff then there's only one person with a shooting iron on their hip.
            
            *if arcade_beef = 1
                Arcade flexes his fingers, his hands glowing a faint red. Lasers charging up. Next to him, Phalanx could be a statue. Her lance is levelled, its tip completely steady. Everything about her is business, her gear unadorned save a V-shaped design on her shield and the small scarf wrapped around her neck. You realise that she's hovering a couple of inches off the ground; must be how she's handling all that weight so easily.
                *choice
                    #No time to waste. Attack.
                        *set instinctive %+ 7
                        For a brief window you have the numbers. You can't let it go to waste.
                        
                        You manage a single step towards the Hounds.
                        *goto whiplike
                    #Play this carefully.
                        *set instinctive %- 7
                        The element of surprise is gone. Enfilade could shake off the stars she's seeing at any moment. Recklessness has the potential to cost you big.
                        
                        You scan the heroes closely, hunting for weaknesses. You're more familiar with your allies' capabilities now; that should open your options—
                        *goto whiplike
                    #Any chance of talking my way out?
                        Haha, uh, no. You rule out the thought almost as soon as you have it. Phalanx is unreadable. Arcade's ready to pop off any second now. Both heroes are solely focused on their quarry.
                        
                        Maybe your words will be an option at some point. Not tonight.
                        
                        *goto whiplike
                    *selectable_if (notbait) #@{quipping ...maybe just a little quipping, as a treat.|Crack a joke. My nerves need it.}
                        Look, banter in the midst of mask fights is a time-honoured tradition. You deserve some slack.
                        
                        *if (expressive > 45)
                            *set expressive %+ 7
                            "Aw come on, what's with these hangdog expressions?" You spread your arms provocatively@{(mc_health = 3) —ow. Shouldn't have done that.|.}
                            
                            *goto arcadegroans
                            
                        *else
                            *set expressive %+ 7
                            "Look who, uh, escaped the kennel." You wince at your own delivery. That had sounded so much better in your head.
                            
                            "…was that supposed to be a one-liner?" Arcade laughs. "[i]Yikes[/i], dude."
                            
                            "$!{mask}, you're embarrassing us in front of the heroes," Rampage mutters.
                            
                            Thoroughly chastened, you shut up.
                            
                            "Alright, show's over." Arcade's arm snaps up, a laser blast blossoming from his palm—
                            *goto whiplike
                    *selectable_if ((observation > 59) or (bestie = 1)) #Phalanx. What is it about Phalanx?
                        *set ephalanx true
                        *set bethstatus 3
                        You don't know why your attention keeps returning to the heavily armoured hero. She's not the biggest threat either in battle or pursuit.
        
                        There's something itching at the back of your mind, and it continues to do so as the standoff breaks and your two sides clash. Phalanx sweeps forward, carried along by that huge round shield of hers. Fracture moves late, taking a glancing blow that drops him spinning to the ground. Phalanx plants her lance, arresting her momentum before the shield can drag her too far, send her staggering. Send her staggering.
        
                        "Arcade! Cover my flank!" Her voice rings out, hollowed by the helmet enclosing her head. She swings back to face Fracture.
        
                        Her voice. Her voice. Her voice.
        
                        [i]"Prii! I need assistance!" The disc goes flying. She staggers, almost falls.[/i]
        
                        The realisation pierces you like a bolt of lightning.
                        *choice
                            #[i]Beth.[/i]
                                *label impossible
                                Impossible. It's impossible.

                                Here? Now?

                                No. There's no way. You've seen one ghost tonight and now your mind's playing tricks on you.

                                Phalanx's shield thumps into Rampage, knocking her aside. Phalanx tracks her a moment, then barely gets her shield up in time to block Fracture's snarled bone fist.

                                "Any time you're ready, Arcade!"

                                You've heard her in a hundred different memories. A thousand. There's no trick here.

                                It's her.

                            #"...Beth..."
                                Your voice is a hoarse, strangled whisper, instantly swallowed by the din of combat.

                                *goto impossible

                            #"Beth?"
                                *set doubt_gh +5
                                *set shout 2
                                Your question is barely over a murmur. Phalanx's head tilts towards you, but then her focus snaps to Rampage.

                                You don't know who you were asking. Her? Yourself? The world itsel?

                                *goto impossible
                            #"BETH!"
                                *set doubt_gh +15
                                *set shout 3
                                Her name tears from your throat faster than your brain can hold it back.
                                
                                Phalanx—Beth—

                                Phalanx jolts, her head whipping around. "Who said—"

                                Fracture rises up with a vengeance and rams his snarled bone fist into Phalanx's—Beth's chest with an ugly clang. She twists through the air, struggling to right herself.

                                The reaction confirms what you already knew. It's her.
                                
                        *achieve ephalanxchiv
                        *choice
                            #I'm frozen, locked up like a broken automaton.
                                Thoughts stutter in and out of existence. Movements stop and start in the same instant.
                                
                                You can only stare at Phalanx. Beth.
                                
                            #She's alive. She's actually alive.
                                Years you wondered time and again if she was out there.
                                
                                Sometimes it was easier to convince yourself she wasn't. An easier reality to swallow than her surviving then not sending anyone to find you.
                                
                            #As always, my life's a joke and I'm the punchline.
                                If Beth's alive and well, of course she had to be your enemy.
                                
                                When have you ever received anything with no strings attached? 
                                
                            #I don't know whether to punch her or hug her.
                                It's your @{dated_beth girlfriend|friend} in the (armoured) flesh. Over five years since you last laid eyes on her.
                                
                                A dizzying rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts sets your head aspin. 
                                
                        You thought. You hoped.
                                
                        You don't think you ever believed Beth made it out. Not without firsthand evidence. Belief was a swift casualty of your captivity.
                        
                        Suddenly a rough grip on your shoulder rips you from your trance. Fracture's snarling face is inches from yours. @{touchingokay |You flinch out of the grasp, though it doesn't stop Fracture growling at you. }"$!{mask}! Fucking help, dumbass!" You tear your eyes from Beth—Phalanx—standing over Arcade as he pulls himself to his feet. Right in front of you Rampage is doing the same, a hand clapped to her singed right arm.
                        
                        Then—
                        *goto whiplike
            
            *else
                *label arcadewaiting
                Arcade's fists are clenched, glowing a faint red as he glares. "I've been waiting for this, $!{mask}!"
                
                *label calmarcade
                "Calm down." Phalanx could be a statue. Her lance is levelled, its tip completely steady. Everything about her is business, her gear unadorned save a V-shaped design on her shield and the small scarf wrapped around her neck. You realise that she's hovering a couple of inches off the ground.
                
                Arcade ignores her, continuing to address you. "Hope you're ready for the ass-kicking of your life, scumbag."
                
                Alongside you, Rampage and Fracture tense. Arcade's arm snaps up, a laser blossoming from his palm—
                *goto whiplike
    #Wade in. Brute strength all the way!
        They need you in there now. Dawdling will only put your side in a worse position.
        
        Time to crack a few skulls.
        
        Long loping strides take you straight into the action, swiping Arcade's legs with your tendrils and then slamming them into Phalanx's chest. Her armour bears the brunt, but she's driven back a little.
        
        "Heads up!" barks Fracture. The warning comes a breath too late; a thick arm snakes around your neck from behind, catching you in a tight chokehold. @{mutations All these eyes and you still got tunnel-vision.|}
        
        Instinctive, primal panic surges in you—[i]furious hands around your neck, strangling the life[/i]—you grit your teeth, fight through the flashes of fear, and reach up to grasp the arm at your throat, cold and unyielding beneath your fingers. Cybernetic. It can only be Enfilade.
        
        *if guts > 30
            Using your every ounce of strength, you pop your hips and wrench Enfilade forward. For a moment her full weight is on your back, the choke cinching tighter and tighter. You strain your muscles yet harder, and then you're flipping her overhead, bringing her crashing to the ground in front of you. Air flows to your lungs once more and you act as swiftly as you're able, delivering a kick directly to Enfilade's defenceless head and knocking her cold.
            
            "The crowd goes wild!" Rampage whoops, jumping to your side. Fracture is more taciturn as he joins you, as per usual. Opposite, Arcade and Phalanx regroup.
            *goto facethehounds
        *else
            *set goutcome 2
            *set mc_health 3
            *set injurydesc 9
            *set getspiked 2
            *set injurydesc 9
            You put as much strength as you can muster into wrenching your assailant forward in an effort to flip her overhead. For a moment Enfilade's off the ground, but that just puts her full weight onto your back, the choke cinching ever tighter. Your muscles strain as you try to find that extra ounce of power, but it's nowhere to be seen. Enfilade's arm sinks even deeper into the hollow of your neck, leaving you fighting for breath that cannot draw.
            
            Your vision begins to swim, swamping with dark splotches. Your legs grow weak and you sag towards the ground.
            
            Then something slams into both you and Enfilade and you can breathe again. You collapse to your knees, gasping for air. Fracture roughly hauls you to your feet, but before you can think to thank him, Enfilade levels her arm at you from the ground, launcher exposed. With a hollow thunk she fires, and a metal spike rockets out, hitting you square in the shoulder with an explosion of agony. Rampage is on top of her in a trice, stomping her flat. All you can do is grit your teeth and seal your membrane around your wound.
            
            Arcade and Phalanx regroup, facing you and the others.
            *goto facethehounds
    #Climb the chasm wall, attack from above.
        *set speed +1
        The Hounds are preoccupied. Ambushing them will be easy.
        
        It's as you scale the first ledge that you realise this strategy is going to take longer than you'd like; Fracture and Rampage are already both re-embroiled in the brawl, each absorbing their share of hits, and you've still got to make your way along the wall until you can overlook the fray.
        
        Nothing to do about it but hustle.
        
        A step, a swing on your tendrils. A quick hop.
        
        In position. You're up a ways, perfectly placed over them all.
        
        @{dive Against the dive you took earlier, it's nothing. You slide to the edge.|Steady breaths. Wait.}
        
        *page_break Leap.
        
        You fall like a bolt from the heavens, and if you're the lightning, Enfilade's the metal rod.
        
        The impact drives her into the ground with a discordant clash, cybernetics on concrete. You hit her so hard, so fast, that you go spilling off to the side, rolling head over heels before managing to catch yourself and stagger back onto your feet.
        
        Enfilade is motionless. Phalanx and Arcade whirl to face you. Fracture takes up position on your left. Rampage whoops.
        *choice
            #"Good evening."
                *if arcade_beef = 1
                    "Wow, you're so badass and cool," Arcade mock swoons.
                    
                    You half bow with a hint of flourish.
                    
                    "Stop showing off," Fracture growls.
                    
                    *goto tumbleweed
                    
                *else
                    "Shut up," snaps Arcade.
                    
                    *goto calmarcade
            #"Mind if I drop in?"
                *set expressive %+ 7
                *if arcade_beef =1
                    *label arcadegroans
                    Arcade groans. "Oh fuck you that's not even funny."
                    
                    "[i]I[/i] liked it, $!{mask}," says Rampage, hopping from foot to foot.
                    
                    "Yeah well your entire name is a pun, so I'm not really into your takes on humour, sheepy."
                    
                    "Better a pun than a joke!" Rampage volleys back. "Which is what you are!"
                    
                    "Oh no, the villain thinks—"
                    "Walking-joke-says-what—"
                    
                    "This isn't the time!"
                    "[i]Rampage.[/i]"
                    
                    Phalanx and Fracture cut their comrades off simultaneously. Arcade and Rampage subside, glaring daggers at one another.
                    
                    *goto whiplike
                    
                *else
                    Arcade's jaw tightens. "Laugh while you can," he growls softly. His hands begin glowing red.
                    
                    *goto calmarcade
            #No quipping.
                *set quipping true
                @{(arcade_beef = 2) Arcade's eyes narrow, his jaw tightens.|"Hell did you come from!?" Arcade takes a backward step, fists raised.}
                
                "How the turns have tabled," Rampage says, apparently not having received the quipping memo.
                
                *if arcade_beef =1
                    *goto tumbleweed
                    
                *else
                    *goto arcadewaiting
        
    *if ((juice >= 15) and (not (nodes)))
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 1) and (fighting_style = 2)) #Bring out some@{node  more|} nodes. I'm a general. They're my soldiers. [Combo: Nodes + Adaptable]
            *set speed +1
            *set juice -10
            *comment tk tidy this up with a gosub
            It's never fun to do this in a hurry. Unobtrusively, even less so. There's an all too familiar sensation in your chest. Spidery, fluttering. You retch as quietly as you're able when too many legs are forcing your throat open. One convulsion after another wracks your body, that dark red ichor dappling the ground, dripping down your torso.
        
            Finally the first node scrambles into your mouth, promptly ending up on the ground as you vomit up another tide of slick ichor, leaving your creation squirming in a pool of your fluids. For a moment you want to stop, want that to be enough, but you're already beginning to gag again.
            
            Fortunately the delay isn't costly. Once you have three nodes lined up at your feet, returning your attention to the fray confirms the battle hasn't passed you by.
            
            Alright. The army is mustered.
            
            *gosub juicecheck
            
            *goto directthenodes
    *else
        *selectable_if ((speciality = 1) and (fighting_style = 2)) #I'm a general, the nodes are my soldiers. Let's do this. [Combo: Nodes + Adaptable]
            *label directthenodes
            *if speed > 1
                *set speed -1
                
            *achieve synergy
            *set harmony +1
            You direct the nodes forward with a single command and for once the unruly creatures comply, scurrying on ahead.
            
            [i]hunt. eat.[/i]
            
            As the nodes set upon the Hounds, biting and clawing. You'd thought perhaps that you were finally imprinting a level of authority upon your creations, but you swiftly realise they were just excited at the prospect of so much prey.
            
            Well, whatever works.
            
            And work it does. One node clamps its teeth into Arcade's calf, and it thrills with triumph at his pained yelp. Another gnaws at Enfilade, and though it's more a nuisance than a threat, it serves as a diversion. The third clambers across Phalanx, fruitlessly seeking weak points, then at your directive latches onto her helmet, obscuring her vision. It signals its displeasure at the inedible quarry you've set it upon, and you placate it as best you can, sharing the taste of blood from the first node. Mollified, it remains affixed, forcing Phalanx to eject it with a shield twirl far too dexterous for the size of the thing.
            
            The node splats hard onto the ground, but you ride out its pain, splitting your focus four separate ways. With Phalanx occupied, she can't cover for Arcade, who's too distracted to look out for Enfilade. Domino effect. Arcade can't dodge a hard shot from Fracture and misses his laser. Rampage barrels Enfilade over then stomps her into the concrete. Twice. The node takes—make that three stomps. The node takes a chunk out of Enfilade's arm for good measure, and is stubbornly attempting to devour the inedible synthflesh as it scuttles back to you.
            
            Rampage and Fracture join it at your side. Opposite, Arcade and Phalanx regroup. You coax the node to relinquish its prize, which it sullenly spits out.
            
            *goto facethehounds
    *selectable_if ((arcade_nose) or (arcade_civvy)) #Arcade's got reason to hold a grudge against me. I can distract him.
        *set notbait false
        "Hey! Arcade!" you call over the din. @{arcade_nose "Nose looks good! They send you to plastic surgery?"|"Good thing for you there's no civilians around, huh?"}
        
        Arcade, just picking himself up, swings around. Despite the darkness, his glare is clear as day.
        
        "What? Unwanted reminder?"
        
        "Shut the hell up!" Arcade snaps, palms lighting with twin red glows. You continue to stand out in the open, provoking him with your presence alone. He takes the bait, unleashing a volley of lasers that sending you ducking and diving for cover.
        
        With Arcade's attention on you, he's no longer watching Enfilade's back. Between dodges, you watch Rampage come flying in from behind to smash a sparking elbow into the augment's head. Enfilade drops like a stone. Belatedly realising his mistake, Arcade diverts from blasting you to regroup with his team, but the damage is already done. You just flipped the numbers advantage.
        
        Fracture and Rampage spring to your side. The remaining pair of Hounds stand opposite.
        
        *goto facethehounds
    *selectable_if (enfilade_injury < 3) #After what I did to Enfilade, I bet I can draw her attention.
        "Surprised you're here, Enfilade!" you call over the din. "Don't you need to recover from @{enfilade_injury that shanking?|getting choked out?|DUMMY}"
        
        Enfilade's head snaps to you as she picks herself up. Her eyes narrow. "Try me and see."
        
        "Looking to get hurt again? Didn't take you for a masochist!" you mock. Strolling right out into the open, you spread your arms provocatively wide and Enfilade takes the bait, breaking away from her allies to charge at you. With a smart roll to the right you narrowly avoid the oncoming cyborg, then take several quick sidesteps, manoeuvring to keep Enfilade's back to the rest of the fight. She presses the attack, raining punch after punch into your guard, beating you further and further backward. You absorb the punishment. What matters is that she's focused fully on you.
        
        Meaning she's not looking when Fracture sees the opportunity you've created and tackles Enfilade from behind, flattening her with the full bulk of his armoured body. He leaps back up to his feet and then before she can move, plants a double-footed stomp into her shoulders, slamming her face into the floor and knocked her out cold. Fracture nods to you as he rises, and Rampage springs around to join you both. Opposite, Arcade and Phalanx regroup.
        
        *goto facethehounds
    

*label whiplike
*page_break A whiplike crack. The smell of ozone.

An electric blue web plunges upon the Hounds, shrouding them beneath a shimmering dome.

You know exactly what it is. Same as anyone who's spent five minutes watching the news would. A containment field. Deployable crowd control for parahuman opposition.

It's amongst the DPR's most valuable tools.

@{(arcade_beef = 2) "You fucking morons!" Arcade howls, slamming a fist into the wall of his cell. "Are you blind!?"|"You missed, you morons!" Arcade yells.}

You glance skyward. Up above, you see flashlight beams sweeping around, focusing ever downward. @{(observation > 34) Shadowy figures move to and fro while distant shouting pricks your ears. |}Seems the feds have finally arrived.

The transparent surface of the field flashes blinding white as Arcade blasts its with his lasers. As the light fades, hairline cracks remain in the dome's lattice. It's not going to hold forever. It may not hold five minutes.

So, that'll be your cue to leave.

@{ephalanx Even still, your eyes linger on the armoured shape of Phalanx, lining her lance up to join Arcade in hitting the shield. You force your gaze away. Get lost in this now and you're going to cease functioning. The Beth-shaped maelstrom tearing through your thoughts will have to wait.|}

Eyes locked on the field, Fracture leans down to the stake piercing his leg, then wrenches it out with brutal efficiency and the crack of breaking bone. Despite now missing a chunk of his calf, he straightens and resumes moving with only a slight limp. Though it's a grisly display, you can't fixate. You need ideas, and fast.

Slowly scaling the side of the chasm is off the table; you'd be sitting ducks for the DPR and Hounds both. It'll have to be a different plan.

*temp anyideas false
*label timetobail
*choice
    
    #Ask Rampage and Fracture if they have any ideas for a quick getaway.
        *set anyideas true
        @{(expressive > 55) "So if either of you have been hiding a jetpack up your sleeves, now would be the time to pull it out."|"Thoughts on getting out of this, you two?"}
        
        *label fracturestay
        @{anyideas Fracture silently|"Need to do something," says Fracture. He} lowers his head, staring at his ungainly bone boot and misshapen armour. Of all of you, he's the least equipped for a hasty retreat. "I'll slow you down—"
        
        "Nuh-uh. No," Rampage interjects. "Don't even think about it. We're going together."
        
        @{(expressive > 40) "How?" you ask. |You tilt your head in question.}
        
        Her eyes gleam with excitement and mischief. She does a quick shuffle-step of a dance, kicking up sparks. "Arcade's lasers sorta, charged me. I'm juiced" — luckily your membrane conceals your wince at her phrasing — "and ready to rock!" She taps her knuckles together, producing another electric crackle. Now that she's pointed it out, you notice that her whole body is humming quietly, wreathed in a faint blue field. "I can jump us up there." She concludes, with conviction.
        *choice
            #"Are you serious? We're talking ten plus storeys here."
                *label nodresolute
                Rampage nods resolutely. "Dunno how to explain. Just know I can do it. Maybe not in one single jump, but yeah."
                
                "If you say it, I believe you," Fracture says as if it's the most simple thing in the world.
                
                Your scepticism aside, looks like this is the play.
                
                *label getjumping
                Following Rampage to the chasm wall, you move onto her right. Rampage looks up at the uneven rise ahead of her and rolls her arms, limbering up.
                
                "Alrighty then," she murmurs, then raises her voice. "Gonna need you two to grab me then hold on tight. Real tight."
                
                @{touchingokay Makes sense. You|Ugh. You've been dreading this part. Reluctantly, you} take a grip around Rampage's back. Opposite, Fracture does the same. In turn, she winds an arm around each of you. @{touchingokay How cosy. It's like you're all the best of friends.|Grimacing, you do your best to block out the discomfort of such close contact.} With you and Fracture flanking her, Rampage seems overburdened@{(mc_height < 4)  even in spite of your relatively small size.|}@{(mc_height > 4) , especially with the difference in height.|}@{(mc_height = 4) .|} Surely this is too much.
                
                Nearby, the containment field shudders and sputters under the heroes' assault. The shouts of the DPR officers are growing ever louder. Your window is shrinking fast.
                
                Rampage breathes deep, bends her legs, and then kicks off the ground with a clap of thunder.
                
                *page_break Airborne.
                *set routeout 5
                The three of you rocket upward, wind whipping past like you're doing 90 on the freeway and forcing you to cling to Rampage for dear life. Static charges the air, popping and cracking.
                
                Too early, your ascent slows. The chasm edge is still above you, still out of reach. Gravity takes hold, eager to reassert its dominion.
                
                Rampage plants a foot into a narrow outcrop, and thunder rolls once again.
                
                The second launch is the lesser, your peak arriving right as you crest the top of the pit. As one, you and Fracture snatch for solid ground, tendril and bone bringing you all slamming into the wall. Rampage starts to slide back, unable to find purchase, but you and Fracture grasp her tight, anchoring her between you.
                
                For a moment, none of you move, hanging halfway over the edge. Shared incredulity and exhilaration runs wordlessly between the three of you. That worked. That actually worked. Then the spell breaks, the realisation sweeping in that you're still in danger; as one you haul yourselves up and out, each sprawling onto the familiar broken ground of the upper Zone.
                
                "Guh—gimme a sec," Rampage pants. She's sweat slicked, stretched out on her back, breathing ragged and uneven. The electrical charge haloing her body has faded away, utterly expended.
                *choice
                    #Urge haste.
                        *if speed > 1
                            *set speed -1
                            
                        *set rel_kay %- 5
                        *set rel_teddie + 2
                        
                        "A sec is all you're getting," you warn her. "We have to go."
                        
                        She nods, not speaking in favour of taking great gulps of air. Unprompted, she then clambers laboriously to her feet. Fracture nods, then turns to leave. You follow, and Rampage stumbles along in the rear.
                        
                    #Snap that we don't have time to rest.
                        *if speed > 1
                           *set speed -1
                           
                        *set rel_kay %- 7
                        *set rel_teddie + 4
                        "Get up," you bark. "They're not going to wait around while we take a nice break."
                        
                        "Jeez, I just—" Rampage breaks off, instead laboriously forcing her way to her feet, panting all the while. "There. Up."
                        
                        "$!{mc_he}'@{mc_singular s|re} right, Rampage," says Fracture, @{(rel_teddie > 30) glancing quickly at you, then away. Was that approval?|not looking particularly thrilled to be agreeing with you.} Rampage wearily nods, unable to spare the breath for more words.
                        
                    #Give her a moment while I check our surroundings.
                        *set rel_kay %+ 5
                        You sweep the immediate environment. No threats just yet, but the noose is tightening. A quick glance over the edge reveals the containment field finally giving way, freeing the heroes. You'd say that the chase is on, but that would imply it hasn't started yet.
                        
                        As you finish your scan, Rampage is laboriously forcing herself to her feet. Fracture steadies her and then forges on ahead, leaving you both to follow.
                        
                    #Make sure she's okay.
                        *set rel_kay %+ 7
                        "You alright?" You lean over Rampage. "That was a crazy stunt."
                        
                        "Tuh—told ya I could do it," she manages, barely lifting her head up off the floor.
                        
                        "Yes, you're amazing. Now come on," Fracture steps right into your personal space, almost but not quite bumping into you. He extends his normal hand to Rampage, and with a long breath, she accepts it. He hauls her to her feet, steadies her, and then turns to get moving. Rampage pauses with you, briefly tugging her mask down to mouth 'sorry'.
                
                *goto surpassconfront
            #"Jump."
                You make no effort to hide your doubts.
                
                *goto nodresolute
            #"Alright. Let's do this."
                "Hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah." Rampage is practically vibrating, though whether from enthusiasm or being filled with absorbed energy, you can't tell.
                
                *label countingonyou
                "Counting on you," says Fracture. Rampage nods so fast you think her head might fall off.
                
                *goto getjumping
            #"I guess I don't see any better options."
                "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," Rampage grumbles.
                
                "You've got mine," says Fracture, which immediately chases the slight frown from Rampage's face.
                
                You don't criticise further. There isn't time to sit around and debate.
                
                *goto getjumping
            #Shrug. If she thinks she can do it...
                Rampage is your teammate. @{(rel_kay < 35) You may not trust her much behind the mask, but here in the field you don't have the luxury of doubt.|Regardless of your level of trust in her as a person, here in the field, you have to count on her abilities. Doubt isn't a luxury you can afford.}
                
                *goto countingonyou
    #Suggest retreating along the chasm floor; maybe we'll find an easier exit.
        "Let's keep moving," you tell the others, gesturing in the opposite direction. "We'll get surrounded if we stay."
        
        Rampage frowns and shakes her head. "Don't think that's gonna work, $!{mask}. Could be a dead end."
        
        *goto fracturestay
    #Who said anything about slow? With these tendrils, climbing's easy.
        @{tumble Sure you fell earlier, but ascent is simpler than descent, and you've got more light to work with.|} You're confident you could make it up there quickly.
        
        Though going for a climb would also entail ditching Rampage and Fracture to find their own way out.
        *choice
            #No no, I'll carry them.
                *if getspiked = 2
                    Not with that stake in your shoulder you won't.
                    *choice
                        #Oh right. Yeah.
                            *label drawingboard
                            Back to the drawing board.
                            
                            *label anyalts
                            Before you can drum up any alternatives, Rampage speaks. "Don't think running down here is gonna work…" She's fidgeting; thinking out loud.
                            
                            *goto fracturestay
                        #I could try!
                            *set instinctive %+ 7
                            You could try many things. That doesn't mean they are good ideas.
                            
                            A solo climb while injured is just about doable. The same climb with two people on your back is a fool's errand.
                            
                            Realistically there have to be better options.
                            
                            *goto anyalts
                *else
                    That could be a tall order. Are you certain?
                    *choice
                        #I can handle it.
                            Your decision.
                            
                        #No, but I'm going to try.
                            Fair enough.
                            
                        #Hm. Let's rethink.
                            *goto drawingboard
                            
                    "Alright, get over here." You beckon them both, @{touchingokay limbering up your tendrils.|steeling yourself for much more contact than you'd like.} "Grab on. I'll climb out."
                    
                    Fracture eyes you dubiously. @{(mc_height < 4) "…Little small for that, aren't you?"|"You sure you can pull that off?"}
                    
                    *if mc_height < 4
                        @{(expressive > 60) "Good things come in small packages."|"It's limb total, not size."}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 60) "Yeah, and you're a small package too!" Rampage teases.|"Probably the creepiest way you could have put that, $!{mask}," Rampage observes.}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 60)  Fracture scowls. "Shut up." He looks to you. "Fine."|You favour her with a multi-tendril wiggle. She makes a face.}
                        
                    *else   
                        @{(instinctive > 60) "Only one way to find out!" you reply.|You nod. "My tendrils are sturdier than they look."}
                        
                        @{(instinctive > 60) "Great. Exactly what you want to hear," says Fracture, dry as a desert.|Fracture nods. "Your call."}
                        
                    "Let's do it then," Rampage says, moving closer. Fracture follows. You lead them to the chasm wall then spread your arms; both teammates take the cue to clasp their arms around your back. In turn you secure your own grip. @{touchingokay |You block out your discomfort. This has a purpose. You can deal.}
                    
                    You crane your neck. Far above, your destination is just barely visible.
                    *page_break Climb.
                    It's not easy. The others clutching tight to your body isn't simply about an increased burden—though the impact is there—it also affects the weight distribution, unsettling your potential routes. More than once, you think you have a secure handhold, only to find you can't properly pull yourself into the new position without stretching or contorting your tendrils dangerously. You've yet to find your tendrils' breaking point, and you hope to remain in ignorance. @{mutations Your additional eyes let you check on your companions now and then, though you can't spare too much attention.|You can't spare the attention to turn your head and check on your companions. The best you get is glimpses from the corner of your eyes.} Fracture is grey in the face, expression grim. Rampage's eyes are darting and nervous. Thankfully, both passengers remain very still, though the occasional lessening of your load suggests that they're putting a foot or hand on the wall here and there. 
                     
                    *if ((guts < 40) or (juiceless))
                        *set routeout 3
                        @{(guts < 18) You've never been especially robust, and these past years have done you no favours. Perhaps you should have known better.|Despite your best efforts, your body still isn't where it used to be.} The further you climb, the slower your progress gets, the more your muscles strain, your tendrils quiver. 
                        
                        Eventually it's too much. Your stamina is utterly exhausted. @{juiceless The clammy hand of withdrawal is the final nail in the coffin. |}You find yourself two thirds of the way up the wall, tendrils clutching the next hold, unable to muster a single ounce of strength. 
                        
                        You take a deep breath, dig into the depths of your reserves, and pull. Painstakingly, you drag your little cluster higher, inch by inch. You can see where your tendril needs to go next, you just need to bear the weight on one tendril for the moment it takes to reach. You begin to stretch the other tendril upward—
                        
                        Your strength gives out and you lose your grip.
                        
                        For a heartstopping instant you're in freefall. Then with a clap of thunder you're rocketing skyward, dragged in the wake of a Rampage now crackling with electricity. Your ascent is rapid, bringing you above the level of the pit's edge in a matter of seconds. You're free of the chasm.
                        
                        Unfortunately the same can't be said for gravity. You've just enough time to realise you're too hopelessly entangled with the others to correct course before you crashland, tumbling into a groaning heap of bone, tendrils, and fluff.
                        
                        It's a few seconds before any of you have the wherewithal to start extricating your limbs from the pile, and a few more before you're done awkwardly knocking into each other with various body parts.
                        *choice
                            #Bit off more than I can chew, I guess...
                                Moroseness settles in as you manage to extract yourself from the tangle. Your attempt fell short, and it's only thanks to Rampage that they won't be scraping the three of you off the chasm floor tomorrow. Hard pill to swallow.
                                
                                *if expressive > 60
                                    Rampage glances over. "Hey, don't tell me you're all down." She wags a finger. "That was a team effort, no arguments allowed!"
                                    
                                    You'd think that you'd be better at keeping your emotions under wraps by now, but nope, she's read you like a book.
                                    
                                    "Sure." Even if your mood's still dented, she's so sincere you can't bring yourself to openly sulk at her.
                                    
                                *else
                                    Rampage catches your eye, flashing a thumbs up. "Team effort, right?" 
                                    
                                    You take a moment, gauging if she's seen through your stoic shell, but conclude she's just being her usual buoyant self. You nod to her, guarding your true feelings.
                                    
                            #That was a shambles, but we made it.
                                What's important is that you're all up here in one piece; who cares if the ride was bumpy? A few extra bruises won't kill you. They won't even slow you down.
                                
                                "Not doing that again," Fracture growls. He runs a finger down the narrow fissure splitting his bone mask.
                                
                                "We just need more practice on the landings," says Rampage. Fracture rolls his eyes@{(observation > 34) . You're sure you see him hide a smile as he turns away.| and turns away.}
                                
                            #It doesn't help that I keep cracking up. This is ridiculous!
                                *set expressive %+ 10
                                Though you try valiantly to stem the giggles, you're simply no match. Each bumped elbow and accidental stumble is a fresh assault on your composure, and before long you're laughing helplessly. Your tendril has managed to weave its way around both of them, Fracture's arm is caught in Rampage's body fluff, and trying to move clear is just making you fall over each other even more.
                                
                                "This. Isn't. Funny," growls Fracture from somewhere underneath you.
                                
                                "It's kind of—"
                                
                                "Shut up."
                                
                                "It's kind of funny." Rampage is fending little better than you with the laughter.
                                
                                "Shut. Up."
                                
                                "C'mon, you're smiling."
                                
                                Fracture makes an angry noise. Bit by bit, you get yourself under control, wrangling your way out of the pile between bouts of laughter.
                                
                            #My face is burning. This is far closer to them than I was prepared to be.
                                *if (not (touchingokay))
                                    Needless to say, you feel awful. Seldom are you glad of your membrane, but without the insulation it's providing between you and the others, you think you'd be completely losing your shit.
                                    
                                    You get yourself out of the tangle as fast as you can without hurting anyone, then take two quick rolls to the side for good measure. Only then do you stand up.
                                    
                                *else          
                                    You were already all grabbing each other, but this has gone from up close and personal to bodies pressed on bodies. Even if there's obviously nothing intimate about the situation, it's still a lot to handle with no warning.
                                    
                                    *if ((interest_kay) and (interest_teddie))
                                        Two separate people you're nursing some kind of feelings for, and you're sandwiched between both of them. You feel like you're going to scream.
                                        
                                    *elseif (interest_kay)
                                        Kay's pushed right up against your chest, her breath brushing across your membrane. This, of course, is something you're feeling Absolutely Normal about.
                                        
                                    *elseif (interest_teddie)
                                        Teddie's right up against you, bones jabbing into your body at odd angles. Doesn't do much to inhibit the flustered heat in your cheeks. @{t_teddie You're absolutely hopeless.|}
                                        
                                    *else
                                        Does this qualify as a meet cute when you're all supervillains? Probably not.
                                        
                                    Thankfully, once Fracture's navigated his more cumbersome growths around you and Rampage, it's not too difficult for you to extract yourselves from the worst timed game of twister of your lives.
                                
                        As the three of you regather your bearings, Rampage is showing visible signs of fatigue. The faint blue aura surrounding her has faded away, expended in her exertions. Something to bear in mind  as you all set off again.
                        
                        *goto surpassconfront
                    *else
                        *set routeout 2
                        *set rel_kay %+ 5
                        *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                        Despite the challenges, muscles straining, sweat pouring from your brow, you make steady progress. Better than steady. [i]Swift[/i] progress. Even as your fatigue mounts, your confidence grows in turn. Your tendrils quest for the next hold, grasp it, and you trust your body has the strength to bring you onward and upward.
                        
                        And it does.
                        
                        For the first time in a long while, you start to feel in tune with your physical body. Like it's something you can rely upon. For the first time in a long while you feel, if not whole, then hale.
                        
                        Before long, you crest the edge of the pit, hauling yourself up and over. Rampage and Fracture each secure a grip of their own and as one, you ascend back to the Zone's upper level. Relief surges through your muscles as they're finally divested of their burden.
                        
                        "Not bad," says Fracture. For once he doesn't even sound begrudging.
                        
                        "That. Was. Incredible." Rampage's eyes crinkle, and you can tell that she's beaming under her mask.
                       
                        *choice
                            #I wilt under the praise, bashful.
                                @{(expressive > 45) "Uh, well, thanks," you mumble, proceeding|You mutter something indistinct and proceed}  to fix your gaze on a particularly interesting piece of rubble. You weren't trying to show off.
                                
                                Luckily—or maybe unluckily, depending on your perspective—your pursuers are far too close on your heels for you to stand around slapping each other's backs. Your companions swiftly refocus on getting the hell out of there.
                                
                            #Downplay the accomplishment.
                                "It was only climbing, no big deal," you reply, though your drooping tendrils don't exactly bolster your case.
                                
                                Rampage snorts. "Look at you all modest. 'Only climbing', ${mc_he} @{mc_singular says|say}, like ${mc_he} @{mc_singular wasn't|weren't} carrying two wholeass people."
                                
                                Fracture has burned through his supply of compliments for the evening, and just shrugs.
                                
                            #Boast a little.
                                "True, I'm pretty amazing." You bring your tendrils up to frame your head, exaggerating the motion.
                                
                                *if expressive < 40
                                    "Uh oh. We've created a monster." Rampage nudges Fracture. "This is what happens when you compliment people, T—uh… 'Ture."
                                    
                                    *label goodsave
                                    Fracture snorts. "Good save." He starts off walking. "$!{mask}, stop preening. Time to go."
                                    
                                    Ah, back to normal.
                                    
                                *else
                                    "Hm, if your head stays this big, maybe we can float our way out of here," Rampage jokes. "What do you think T—uh… Ture?"
                                    
                                    *goto goodsave
                            #Stay focused, we're not out of the woods yet.
                                *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                                "Thank me later," you tell them. "DPR could be on us any moment."
                                
                                "Point." Fracture nods.
                                
                                "No early celebrations, got it," Rampage adds.
                                
                        *goto surpassconfront 
                                
            #That's not happening. I need a [i]different[/i] different plan.
                *goto drawingboard
            #Is what it is. Every mask for themselves.
                *set routeout 4
                *set rel_kay %- 7
                *set rel_teddie %- 5
                
                *if expressive < 40
                    You look up at the chasm wall, assessing the climb, and then wordlessly start towards it.
                    
                    "Uh, $!{mask}?" Rampage calls. "Where are you going?"
                    
                    You glance over your shoulder, shrug, then gesture with a tendril.
                    
                *else
                    You take a couple of steps towards the chasm wall. "I'm climbing out. Good luck."
                    
                "Are you serious?" @{(expressive < 40) She|Rampage} taps her chest. "What about us?"
                
                "You're resourceful, you'll figure something out."
                
                Rampage laughs, half incredulous, half sardonic. "Wow, teammate of the year. Thanks for nothing, I guess."
                
                You leave her to her complaining and hop up to your first concrete footholds. Securing your own safety is pragmatism, nothing more, nothing less. You'd expect them to do the same if the situation was reversed; you don't owe it to anyone to risk yourself for their sake.
                
                @{(inform1 = 6) The inconvenient thought questioning why the hell you lied to $!{cg} in that case proves difficult to quell.|Maybe it was different, once upon a time, but that was then.}
                
                As anticipated, the ascent is easy. You're working with more light and handholds above are simpler to test than those below. Thanks to your tendrils you make short work of even the trickiest of climbing manoeuvres. At this rate, you're out in no time.
                
                A clap of thunder rattles your confidence and grip both. Jolting, you almost slip, and have to latch both tendrils deep into their berths to avoid falling. Heartbeats later, Rampage rockets past you, wreathed in crackling electricity and holding tightly onto Fracture. You can't help but gawk as she catches on a ledge above you, and then launches herself yet higher. More thunder, and as you look on, the pair crests the top of the pit and disappears from sight.
                
                You're feeling rather chastened when you finish your climb a minute or two later. Pulling yourself over the edge to find Rampage and Fracture standing there, both looking distinctly unimpressed, Rampage even despite clearly being exhausted from her efforts, the charged-up aura completely dissipated.
                *choice
                    #"Surprised you waited for me."
                        "Fracture wasn't gonna, but I felt like rubbing it in," Rampage replies.
                        
                        Ouch.
                        
                        *goto comeonsays
                    #"Sorry."
                        "I'll think about accepting that," Rampage replies, eyeballing you.
                        
                        Yeah, okay, fair. You decide to cut your losses and shut up.
                        
                        *label comeonsays
                        "Come on," says Fracture, starting off away from the pit. Rampage follows, you bring up the rear. Going to be a while before you live this one down.
                        
                    #"Told you you'd figure something out."
                        "Just admit you were looking out for yourself," Fracture snaps, clenching his good fist.
                        
                        Rampage intercedes before you can reply. "We can argue later. We need to get going, right?"
                        
                        She's correct of course, though it's an uneasy truce she's brokered. Fracture's eyes linger on you, and he only begins moving after you've walked past him.
                        
                    #I don't acknowledge the accusation in their eyes. We all made it, didn't we?
                        *set rel_kay %- 5
                        They can scowl and glare all they want, you're all where you need to be. You found your method, they found theirs.
                        
                        "Let's move," you say, striding straight past them.
                        
                        Another of those mixed laughs from Rampage. "Really starting to tick me off here, $!{mask}."
                        
                        Naturally, you ignore her again.
                        
                *goto surpassconfront
    *hide_reuse #Can I see Architect or Wyrd anywhere?
        You spare a couple of glances for your surroundings, but neither of them seem to be in your vicinity. Even the telltale glow of Architect's barriers is absent, though with the DPR officers shining lights everywhere, that fainter illumination could be swallowed up.
        
        *goto timetobail
    *hide_reuse #Look around for Ghoul.
        *if poutcome = 1
            No sign of ${whim}. You can faintly make out what you think is Portrait in the gloom, but he's moving away. Chasing after Wil, probably.
            
            You bury a guilty twinge.
            
        *else
            You look back in the direction you came, but Wil's nowhere to be seen. Could be good. Could be bad. No way of knowing.
            
        *goto timetobail


*label surpassconfront
The three of you hustle through the rubble, heading for the Zone's fringes. Your surroundings are unfamiliar, though better an unknown route than one crawling with DPR officers. For now, the only bearing you need worry about is towards an exit. 

Clambering up atop a decimated concrete slab that once formed part of the sidewalk, you chance a backward look. You're gaining ground on the scattered flashlight beams flickering through the darkness. Architect's assessment was right; the DPR doesn't have enough people to cover the area. At this rate, you'll be able to shake off your tail and disappear into the night.

Uh oh. Optimism.

You count down in your head from ten. You reach four.
*page_break Someone steps around the next corner.

Out in the open, you and Surpass see each other in the same instant. For a moment, it's a frozen tableau, three villains facing a single hero. 

Surpass breaks the ice. "How about that." She cracks her knuckles. There's blood streaked down the back of one hand. "Looks like it's your unlucky day, $!{snick}." 

You exchange glances with Rampage and Fracture. You don't need to be a mind reader to know you're all thinking the same thing: Stand and fight, or get the hell out of here?

*if ((juiceless) or (mc_health = 4))
    There's no real choice. @{juiceless Your body's barely holding together as it is, your powers running on dregs.|You're in a bad way; Vantage rang your bell then Enfilade drilled a hole in it.} Take on Surpass in this state and she'll leave you as a bloody smear on the concrete.
    
    *goto notsosimple
    
*else
    Is it even realistic to consider facing her head on? @{surpass_fight Last go round, you were barely hanging in there when Architect bailed you out.|Sure, you managed okay last go round, but ultimately you were only holding her off.|Last go round, she smacked you down hard.} Not to mention, you'll be pulling right from the dredges of your stamina; can hardly win a fight if your body gives out on you first. The Juice could keep you going a little longer, maybe, but that's not limitless either.
    
    *if (mc_health = 3)
        @{(getspiked = 2) Plus lest you forget, you've still got a freaking stake sticking out of you.|Oh, and let's not forget that you've already had the crap knocked out of you once.}
        
    So maybe it's smarter to run. It's definitely safer. You've been on the business end of those dynamite fists. Then again, Surpass is rocking with super speed. Fracture's slow and @{(routeout = 2) you're fatigued|Rampage is exhausted}. You aren't going to win a footrace, so if you don't want to fight, you'll have to come up with something to throw off her pursuit.
    
    What's the play?
    *choice
        #Fight Surpass.
            *if guts < 30
                *set juice -10
            
            *set speed +1
            *set timepass 5
            *if ((voutcome = 2) and (poutcome < 3))
                *if ((goutcome = 1) and (routeout > 3))
                    *set stamina true
                
            *elseif (poutcome = 5)
                *if ((goutcome = 1) and (routeout > 3))
                    *set stamina true
                    
            *goto fightsurpass
        #Evade Surpass.
            *set timepass 3
            *goto evadesurpass
    
*label evadesurpass
*set soutcome 1
The more you think about it, the surer you get. The three of you have been through a marathon of a mission, while Surpass looks almost fresh. Take her on now and she'll clean your clocks one after another.

*label notsosimple
Still, it's not so simple as turning tail and fleeing. Unless you prevent her from following you, she'll catch up in five seconds flat.

You're not letting her run you down. Not after all that's happened tonight.
*choice
    #A nearby ruin looks unstable. Maybe I can collapse it.
        The closest structure, directly on your right, is in a sorry state, its ground floor half destroyed and its upper storey visibly sagging.
        
        If you'd told your younger self that 'what if I drop a building on someone?' would one day be a course of action you were genuinely considering, you—actually you're not sure how your younger self would react. By demanding to know why the fuck ${mc_he} grew up to have tentacles, probably.
        
        "Scatter!" you shout, then feign a charge at Surpass.
        
        "Bring it!" Surpass raises her fists and you divert, vaulting through an empty window frame and into the ruin. Surpass shouts something indignant as you scramble across heaped rubble and towards the building's far side. Soon enough you catch sight of your goal, a bowed support pillar.
        
        Here goes nothing. You ram it with your shoulder.
        
        *if guts > 23
            *set soloescape true
            There's the right kind of crunch, meaning you're in the wrong kind of place as the overtaxed building groans. You take a leap more desperate than calculated, diving through the space which used to be the opposite wall.
            
            Behind you. "Son of a—"
            
            The roof comes crashing down in a cascade of brick and plaster. Not the entire building, but more than enough to bury the pursuit. You stumble to your feet and keep running; you don't want to be here when Surpass digs herself out.
            
        *else
            *set speed +1
            The pillar buckles. That's the good news. The bad news is that as you try to leap clear, you're not fast enough. The roof crashes down, raining brick and plaster upon your head as you try desperately to shield yourself.
            
            You try to move, but the rubble has you pinned, barely shifting. There's barely space to breathe, let alone dig your way out. As panic begins to rise in your chest, a big portion of the weight atop you suddenly lifts. Seconds later, the layer of bricks covering you parts, revealing Fracture stooped over you. With his aid you scramble out of the wreckage, thanking your lucky stars you didn't collapse the whole building. Nearby, Rampage heaves a hefty chunk of rebar onto another pile of rubble, producing a muffled curse from somewhere underneath it all. At least you trapped Surpass too.
            
            "Are you fucking stupid?" Fracture snaps. It's rhetorical, apparently, because he immediately breaks into a jog. "Come on. Won't hold her long."
            
        *goto escapethezone
    #I'll draw her away from the others, then try to give her the slip.
        *set soloescape true
        Surpass can't chase all three of you at once, and the Zone has an endless array of blind corners and dark passages to lose a tail.
        
        "Cute name, but I have my own now," you say, stepping forward. You subtly gesture behind your back with a tendril, and your teammates take the signal to retreat.
        
        Surpass laughs. "I like $!{snick} better. Ready to get your ass beat again?"
        
        "Hm." You make a big show of thinking about it, playing for time. "Nope. See ya!" You tendril-boost yourself straight through the empty windowframe of the building next to you and then run like hell. Surpass swears.
        
        You duck around a corner, tear through another building, round a second corner, buying yourself precious moments. Ahead you spot a door hanging ajar and you make a snap decision, slipping inside into a pitch black room. You crouch behind the doorway and hold your breath. Within seconds, you hear a rainlike pattering; boots hitting ground at super speed. The noise races past, then begins to recede.
        
        *if (subterfuge > 38)
            Though your instincts scream to flee, you will them silent, and wait. Patience. Patience. Your heart is pounding fit to burst, but you remain still, quiet as the grave.
            
            You count an agonising minute past, then ten seconds more. No sign nor sound of Surpass. You unfold from your crouch, step outside, and after one final scan for pursuit, vanish into the night.
            
            *goto escapethezone
        
        *else
            *set speed +1
            As the noise diminishes, you stifle a sigh of relief, rise, and step outside. Your pursuer is rushing off in the other direction, time to double back.
            
            You turn too tightly and slam your elbow into the metal doorframe with a clang that may as well be a death knell. You dart back inside, but the damage is already done. The raining footfalls return, louder and louder. You tense in your dark hideaway, preparing to fight—
            *page_break "Who goes there?"
            A man's voice. Over in the direction you came from. Surpass mutters a curse, so near that your blood runs cold. She's right outside.
            
            "Walk away, man. I'm busy."
            
            "The Zone is restricted to DPR personnel, Hound. You're trespassing."
            
            "For fuck's sake," Surpass grumbles under her breath. You hear her move past your position. "Look, there's a villain nearby. Real near. I know you're doing your job or whatever, but I don't have time for this."
            
            A pause. Your eyes are starting to adjust to the gloom. Opposite you, a destroyed doorframe promises an open corridor. Escape.
            
            "I need to call this in," says the DPR officer.
            
            "You can't be fucking serious!"
            
            "Hey! Don't move!"
            
            "Go ahead, shoot your rinky dink taser! See what happens!"
            
            As hero and officer descend into a shouting match, you leave the gift horse's mouth closed and scurry across the room and out. With no sign of pursuit, you exit the building and vanish into the night. There goes this entire year's supply of luck.
            
            *goto escapethezone
    *selectable_if ((mutations) and (fighting_style = 3)) #It'll strain my mastery to its limits, but what if I pilot my membrane remotely? [Combo: Mutations + Wielder]
        *set timepass 4
        *set soutcome 2
        *temp juiceless2 false
        You've never, [i]ever[/i] attempted to separate yourself from your membrane while maintaining control.
        
        Hell of a time to experiment.
        
        The standoff continues as Surpass waits for you to make the first move. Stalling serves her purposes perfectly well; gives her backup more time to show. 
        
        "Don't move," you mutter to the others. Then you begin peeling yourself out of the back of the membrane, tightly focusing on maintaining its integrity. From the front, it should appear you're standing still. 
        
        The membrane really, really doesn't want to relinquish its grip on you. Tiny black tendrils cling to your body, grasping at you like anemones. You're left coated in a thin, semi-translucent film, cloying and slimy. 
        
        Those extra eyes decorating your neck haven't gone anywhere. Your shoulder's maw continues to hang open unless you concentrate otherwise, splitting your upper body. There's something especially nauseating about the changes going so deep, though then again, what's deeper than inside your body? The membrane isn't its own entity blanketing you, it's a product of your messed up biology.
        
        You take a step back, leaving behind a doppelganger shell that you carefully position as concealment. A slender black umbilical still stretches between you and your membrane, but as you reach to sever it,you're struck by a feverish shiver. You swallow bile, try again. Another, even worse tremor.
        
        Fuck. [i]Fuck.[/i] You can't detach.
        
        "Whatcha doing there, Chompy?"
        
        Your tendril eye catches the glint in Surpass's regular pair. She's onto you.
        *page_break
        *achieve synergy
        *set harmony +1
        *set hurtbysurpass true
        *if speed > 1
            *set speed -1
        
        *if mc_health =1
            *set mc_health 3
            *set injurydesc 9
            
        *elseif mc_health = 3
            *set mc_health 4
            
            
        *else
            *set mc_health 5
            
        *set remotemembrane 2
        *set injurydesc 9
        *set juice - 20
        
        *if juice < 0
            *set juice 0
                        
        Screw it. Guess you're testing how far this link can stretch.
        
        "Go!" you hiss, then bolt, your companions hot on your heels. The umbilical goes taut for a moment, and then pulls straight through your chest, inverting from your back with the sound of sucking flesh.
        
        "Don't mind if I do!" hoots Surpass, rushing your membrane self. You can still [i]feel[/i] the other body, sensations doubling up between your paired forms. For now, the control is there too, and you bring in the tendrils—left with the membrane—to block her attack. Jarred by the impact, you stumble, desperately trying to process and manage the complete split in perspectives. You thought having an eye positioned above your own head was bad; it's nothing compared to seeing your own body running in the opposite direction.
        
        Surpass grapples your membrane with one hand, fending a tendril off with the other. You can hear her loud and clear, sending more vertigo spiralling through you. "What the—" she sputters. "How are you even—" The opposite tendril slams into her face, cutting her off.
        
        You and the others are pulling further and further away, scrambling across rubble and ruin. The more distance you gain, the tighter, the [i]thinner[/i] your connection becomes, the umbilical straining like an overstretched muscle. 
        
        A little more. Just a little more.
        
        Surpass punches you. Your head snaps back like she actually popped you in the face. You're about to careen into a wall before Rampage catches you, sets you back running.
        
        "Why are you so." Surpass catches your fanged tendril. 
        
        "Fucking." Elbow to the jaw, a tight headlock.
        
        "Weird!?" She [i]tears[/i] in opposite directions. You feel your membrane giving way, neck ripping—reflexively you cut the connection. The umbilical snaps, and you're wracked with heat and cold and the agonising ghost of sensation, collapsing facefirst to the ground. Severed, you shouldn't feel the membrane any longer.
        
        Tell that to the phantom head torn from its shoulders.
        
        *if (juiceless)
            The hunger, so briefly abated, comes flooding back in a ravenous tide.
            
            Your blood price has run dry.
            *goto juicelessthree
            
        *elseif juice = 0
            *set juiceless true
            *set nojuicezone true
            *set juiceless2 true
            *gosub juiceless
            *goto paralysed
        *else
            *label paralysed
            @{juiceless2 Slowly, you come back to yourself. It's not a happy reunion. |}You lie paralytic on the floor, not a breath of air in your lungs. The concrete is cold against your cheek. You can't feel your body.
            
            *label sonofabitch
            "Son of a bitch!" Hands grasp under your arms, hauling you upright. The sensation is dim and distant. Your head slumps, and you're unable even to raise it to look at your companions as they carry you out of the Zone to safety.
            *goto escapethezoneinjured
            
    *if (nodes) #Sacrifice the nodes to get away.
        *set nodes false
        Better them than you. Or Rampage and Fracture.
        
        The trio scuttles forward, interposing themselves between you and Surpass.
        
        She groans. "These things again? Fuuuuck."
        
        Bracing yourself for the coming storm of shared sensations, you bolt in the opposite direction, your companions following suit. At your order, the nodes go skittering towards Surpass.
        
        [i]eat. hunt. blood.[/i]
        
        @{(expressive > 55) This will suck six ways from Sunday.|This will be unpleasant.}
        
        Teeth not entirely your own sink deep into vulnerable flesh. You hear a shout half anger and half pain, get a brief sense of satisfaction from the node chewing upon its prize, and then almost end up on the floor as Surpass grabs the node and squashes it like a grapefruit. The psychic backlash has you reeling and stumbling, rebounding neatly off a wall before regrouping into a staggering run.
        
        [i]pain. prey. eat[/i]
        
        The remaining nodes furiously redouble their attack, gnashing at Surpass. You get flashes of snapping and biting, distorted shouts you can't properly make out. The nodes are pissed.
        
        So is Surpass. Perhaps a minute after the first node's demise you're staggering again, rocked by the uncanny sensation of getting bounced off a wall like a basketball. The mental image would almost be funny if it didn't give you the mother of all headaches. And if the follow up wasn't a fist pulverising your little friend against the bricks. You were bracing for this one, and manage to ride out the assault on your mind. Rampage glances back at you in concern, but you wave her onward. Slow down, and everything you're enduring will be for nothing.
        
        [i]blood. hunt.[/i]
        
        The sole survivor battles gallantly, and by the time you vicariously experience its dendrites torn asunder, it's done its job. You're almost in the clear.
        *choice
            #Somehow, I feel guilty.
                They're alive, after a fashion. They didn't deserve to be squashed like bugs.
                
            #Quietly thank the nodes.
                They deserve credit for buying you time. That was never a fight they could win.
                
            #I'm not getting sentimental.
                The nodes are part of you. May as well thank your fists for punching or your legs for running.
                
        *goto escapethezone
    #Use the buildings to my advantage. My powers are better suited to the environment than hers.
        *set juice -10
        @{(expressive > 55) Tipping Surpass a mocking salute|Giving Surpass no chance to react}, you launch yourself airborne by way of your tendrils and latch onto the closest building. Below, the others take off in the opposite direction. There's an instant where you think that Surpass is going to focus on your teammates, but in a blink she's straight after you, just as you'd hoped. You're pretty confident she holds you partway responsible for what Architect pulled with the hostages.
        
        Scaling to the top of the ruin with ease, you flip yourself onto the roof and sprint to the opposite side, dodging cracks and a huge hole along the way. You spare a backward glance, and a small chill hits you as Surpass pops up over the edge, far faster than you expected. You leap, soaring across the street and catching halfway up the opposite wall. Immediately you set to climbing once again. @{(routeout =5) Too bad Rampage can't jump you up this one.|Always with the climbing.}
        
        Somewhere below you there's a thump, and you grit your teeth and move faster, resisting the urge to look down. You scramble yet higher, but rather than go for the roof, you spring to one side and scuttle through an empty window. Dashing across the room—a dusty tableau of abandonment—you burst through the door and take a hard left down the corridor. Another window at the end of the hall is the perfect opportunity to dip back outside, and you shimmy over a few yards, then drop a full storey. Another leap, and you stick a landing onto a ruin teetering near horizontally.
        
        You can't hear Surpass in pursuit. You still don't look. Instead, you pump up your tendrils and use them as a launchpad again. An ambitious leap, a full storey up, and you don't quite make it, your ribs slamming painfully into the corner of the roof. Grimacing, you haul yourself up and over, run across to the other side, and jump to the ground, cushioning your fall with your tendrils.
        
        Now you glance around. Nothing. Are you in the clear?
        
        *gosub juicecheck
        
        Seems you've shaken her. Refusing to take that for granted, you take off running yet again.
        
        Fuck but you're tired.
        *set soloescape true
        *goto escapethezone
    
*label fightsurpass
This isn't a battle you have to take.

You're choosing to confront a very dangerous opponent when you have another option.

*if ((juice < 26) and (warninggiven != 2))
    *set warninggiven 2
    [b]Not to mention, with a dry heave and a twitching, shuddering membrane, you know you're reaching your limit.[/b]
    
    So why are you doing this?
    
*else    
    Why?
*choice
    #What can I say? Fighting Surpass is fun.
        She's intense. Fiery.
        
        Most of all, she's honest. Straightforward. No hidden agendas, no secrets, just the thrill of the fight.
        
        Have to enjoy the little things; they're all you've got.
        
    #Being a pest gives me joy in life.
        You've got precious little to smile about. Have to take your fun where you can get it. 
        
        Today, that means pissing off the city's toughest hero just because you can.
        
    #I'm sick and tired of orders.
        Do this. Go there. Drink your Juice. Spy. Report. Wait here. Do that. Jump exactly this high.
        
        Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe it isn't the smartest choice.
        
        But it's [i]your[/i] choice, one that nobody can take away from you.
        
    #@{surpass_fight I'm eager to give a better accounting of myself this time.|Last time was a draw. I want to break that tie.|I've wanted to settle the score ever since our last fight.}
        *set solofight true
        Apparently you have a competitive streak. @{surpass_fight You barely kept yourself in the fight back at the loan shark. That won't happen again.|It's impossible to be satisfied by a tie, especially when Architect cut things short. This is your chance to prove you're better than her.|Last time, you got your ass kicked. This is your chance to get even.}
        
        *goto solostrats
    #I'm on an adrenaline high and want to fuck someone up.
        *set psycho +1
        So often you're numb, adrift in a lifeless sea, surfacing only for bouts of misery, fear, and grief.
        
        The rush of combat is a rare occasion to be something other than a frozen puppet.
        
        You owe the world plenty of pain, and extracting that debt?
        
        It feels [i]good[/i].
        
    *if (aro != 4) #I like the kind of woman who'll actually just kill me.
        …Probably not the best metric to make decisions by, but here you are.
        
    #It's purely self-destructive, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
        *set terminate +1
        Through these years in the Coven's clutches, you've been too stubborn or too @{coven_history afraid|fearfully loyal|bitter} to take matters into your own hands. The past weeks lived in half-freedom, the only true fetter preventing you from walking away is your own life.
        
        Because it has to [i]mean[/i] something. Because letting yourself die would render all the suffering pointless.
        
        Faced with an enemy capable of bringing this limbo to an end, one way or another, it's hard to bring that search for meaning into focus.
        
        You could live with going down fighting. Let's roll the dice. 
        
    #...Because it's a three versus one? Obviously?    
        *set threevone true
        At the risk of sounding like a goon from a cheesy mask cartoon, Surpass is only one woman. Even banged up, you've got numbers, and unlike the stereotypical street tough, you're not stupid enough to politely line up and fight her one after another.
        
        Why fight fair when unfair is right there in front of you?
        
        *goto teamstrats
    #Honestly, I think it gives us our best chance at escape.
        Thinking it through logically, Surpass's super speed is an insurmountable problem. Unless you eliminate her ability to pursue, she'll always be able to catch up. Architect managed that with the hostages. You have no such luxuries here.
        
        Better to stand and fight than have her find you over and over, freshly alerting everyone around. Sooner or later, the net would pull tight around you, and that would be that. Head to head, you've got a chance to remove the threat entirely.

*page_break
First thing's first, Rampage and Fracture give you options. Are you going it alone, or with help?
*choice
    #Consider solo strategies.
        *label solostrats
        @{solofight Fighting her with help won't prove anything.|Facing her by yourself is risky, but it simplifies the playing field.}
        *choice
            #She's too tough for a fair fight, so let's get sneaky.
                *goto s_strat
                *label s_strat2
                *set soloescape true
                
                You suspect she'll change her tune in a moment.
                
                Surpass rockets out of the blocks to attack. You dive desperately to the side, your intentions of a last-second dodge going up in smoke. 
                
                Well, it [i]was[/i] the last second, it just happened to be the same as the first second.
                
                Focus.
                
                Swirling back to your feet by way of your tendrils, you manoeuvre towards the closest building. Surpass keeps on coming, her fist ploughing through the wall inches from your head. Grimacing, you chop two fingers into her throat and take evasive action, gripping an open windowframe to your right and then pulling yourself through. Surpass curses, pursues, and now your work can begin. As she leaps through the window, you plunge onto her from above, driving your knees into her head and back and bringing you both to the floor. Not missing a beat, you roll upright and dart through the open door, deeper into the darkened building.
                
                Hit and run. Every time she catches up, you launch another ambush, get another couple of shots, and then bail before she can pin you down. 
                
                "Getting real old, $!{snick}!" Surpass snarls as you retreat a fourth time.
                
                Too bad. You swing through another door in the hallway, then scurry into the eaves of the room. Surpass's heavy footfalls stomp their way after you, and you tense to spring.
                
                Then Surpass explodes through the wall. 
                
                "OH YEAH!"
                
                *if subterfuge > 40
                    *set fightscore_s +1
                    Your instinct is to attack, attack [i]now[/i], but you hold it back, calm yourself as the dust settles. Mostly on Surpass. You're still nice and secure up in your corner of the ceiling and at no risk of getting dislodged. She's trying to make you panic, but she hasn't seen you yet.
                    
                    Actually, with debris and dust all over her, here's your chance. You tendril-launch yourself from the roof and slam into her again. She thrashes around, swinging a sizzling punch that narrowly misses. You counter, a one-two tendril punch that sends her staggering. As you start to duck away, Surpass lashes out and snags your tendril in a vice grip. Uh-oh—
                    
                    Surpass wrenches you around and flings you through the room's window in a shower of glass. You tumble end over end into the ravaged street, picking yourself up off the ground once you finally come to a halt. A quick once over confirms there's nothing sharp lodged in your body while Surpass hops through the broken window, wiping at her face.
                    
                    Well, the strategy was nice while it lasted.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
                *else
                    Shit. Gotta get on her [i]now![/i]. You tendril-launch yourself from your ceiling perch, but Surpass twists and catches you in mid-air.
                    
                    "Hi, $!{snick}."
                    
                    Uh-oh.
                    
                    Surpass pivots, swings you about, and then hurls you bodily through the wall.
                    
                    The one without the hole, obviously.
                    
                    You spill back out onto the ravaged street in a shower of broken masonry, tumbling end over end until momentum runs out and leaves you facedown in a battered heap. Groaning, you pick yourself up off the ground. Across the way, Surpass unhurriedly strolls out of the building, wiping at her face.
                    
                    That could have gone better.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
            #It'll take clever (or at least fast) talking, but I'll try distracting her with banter.
                *set s_strat 2
                *set soloescape true
                *label s_strat
                "Leave her to me," you tell the others. Both hesitate, but in the end neither argues, and they start running. You turn back to Surpass, who remains unmoved.
                
                "More fun this way anyhow," she calls, putting up her dukes.
                
                *if s_strat = 1
                    *goto s_strat2
                
                *if ((expressive > 69) or (knowledge > 34))
                    *set fightscore_s +1
                    *if expressive > 69
                        "Fun? Shucks, Surpass, you're flattering @{(mc_guy = "person") me."| a ${mc_guy}}."
                        
                        *label bantersurpass
                        @{(expressive > 69) "Ha! Would rather flatten you, $!{snick}." Surpass|Surpass snorts. "DPR ain't got a leg to stand on, $!{snick}." She} dashes into action, closing the distance and throwing a quick flurry of punches. You sway or block them, dancing back a couple of steps.
                        
                        @{(expressive > 69) "C'mon, that barely tickled," you taunt,|"We did our homework, this place is off limits for you," you counter,} testing her defences with a couple of jabs. @{(expressive > 69) "Thought you were a hound, not a puppy."|}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 69) "Well, 'Altruist', I've not seen you at any fundraisers recently!"|"Pff, as if!"} She drills you in the chin, snapping back your head. You bring in your tendrils, blocking her from following through. @{(expressive > 69) |"Did you seriously think we'd have to sit around sucking our thumbs cause we're 'not allowed' to stop you?"}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 69) "Fundraisers for what? Sick dogs?"|"Even if you beat us, you're handing them an excuse to censure," you say, fending off another attack.}
                        
                        Surpass laughs, properly laughs, taking a casual swing at you. @{(expressive > 69) |There. "Aw, $!{snick}, you're so—"}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 69) Too casual.|}
                        
                        You step into her guard and unleash a massive combination of strikes. Body, head, throat, body. Rocked, she staggers, and your next hit drives her down to one knee. Lining up a kick to her vulnerable skull, you throw yourself at her, and then in a sudden blur, she's off to one side and back up on her feet, shaking her head free of cobwebs. You lurch to a standstill, correcting your balance, and turn to face her.
                        
                        "Got me chatting," Surpass muses. "Cute. You get one." Her fists come up again. "Only one."
                        *goto fightsurpass2
                    
                    *else
                        You consider your angle. The Hounds shouldn't be in the Zone. However, if your memory serves, heroes are usually clear to pursue parahuman criminals wherever is necessary.
                        
                        So, how about stringing her along getting an explanation for something you already know?
                        
                        "Any chance of calling this off?" you ask as you raise your own fists. "Neither of us wants to get busted by the DPR."
                        
                        *goto bantersurpass
                *else
                    *if expressive > 40
                        "Fun? I'm a riot," you reply.
                        
                        "Then call me crowd control," Surpass quips, dashing into action and throwing a quick flurry of punches as she closes the gap. You sway or block them, dancing back a couple of steps.
                        
                        "A crowd of schoolkids, maybe," you taunt. She promptly drills you in the chin, snapping back your head.
                        
                    *else
                        "I'll show you fun," you shoot back.
                        
                        Surpass's fists lower slightly. You can hear the smirk. "Wow. You need practice."
                        
                        "Not as much as you." You flounder a moment, then add. "In the gym!"
                        
                        "…hitting you before I get more secondhand embarrassment." Dashing forward, she proceeds to do just that, delivering a quick combination of punches you have to sway or block.
                        
                    Uh… line?
                    
                    Yeah so. Turns out that keeping a witty dialogue going while getting punched in the face is harder than they make it look on TV, and your gameplan swiftly disintegrates. Concentrate on fighting, and you're not delivering the distracting one-liners. Try to come up with some fresh zingers, you're not defending yourself properly.
                    
                    Surpass launches you flying with a front kick. You land, skid, and manage to flip yourself back to your feet just in time to avoid getting wiped out by her absolute stampede of a pursuing charge. You propel yourself to some extra clearance with your tendrils and don't even bother working on your next clever comment.
                    
                    This isn't working. It's switch up or get smashed.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
            *selectable_if (stamina) #I've got enough left in the tank to just fight until a good opportunity arises.
                *set fightscore_s +1
                *set soloescape true
                You've fought smart, keeping yourself from harm and conserving energy. Now comes the payoff. 
                
                "Leave her to me," you tell the others. The confidence in your tone carries and neither of them argues, both taking off running. @{(instinctive > 65) You almost feel the same confidence. Almost.|You wish you actually [i]felt[/i] that confidence.}
                
                "More fun this way anyhow," Surpass calls, putting up her dukes.
                
                Alright, head in the game. You both know one another's capabilities. Will she be more cautious, look to avoid your more dangerous moves—she zips straight at you, super speed. You guard just in time, grunting as the impact thuds into your arms. You snap a tendril at her face to ward off a full onslaught, then thrust a knee into her abdomen. She catches the blow in her hands, blurs, and then her heel blasts into your left shoulder by way of a spinning kick, staggering you. She makes a big show of rotating her raised leg to the side and then lowering it neatly to the ground.
                
                "Not bad, $!{snick}. You been training?"
                
                @{(expressive > 55) "Natural talent," you boast,|You don't respond,} scanning for openings.
                
                @{(expressive > 55) "Psh. Talent's got nothing on hard work." Says the triple-ability powerhouse.|She's unfazed. "Eh, suit yourself."} Another charge, stationary one moment, a fist flying at your head the next.
                
                Not this time. You twist your shoulders and the punch glides past your face. Bringing both tendrils to bear, you swipe high and low simultaneously; Surpass lurches away from the high, but that means she's off balance for the low to snatch her ankles and trip her over. As she hits the ground you're already pouncing, piling on top of her to unleash a rain of punches and tendril strikes. Hit after hit lands, smacking her to and fro underneath you. With each successive impact shuddering up your arms you feel victory growing closer.
                
                Then your knuckles slam into a face that's suddenly more like a brick wall than flesh and blood. You recoil, and Surpass grabs you by the legs and throws you off. The angle's too awkward for you to go far, but you still skid along the ground. By the time you've arrested your momentum and sprang back up to your feet, Surpass, too, is back in business. And giving you an appreciative nod.
                
                Heroes are weird.
                *goto fightsurpass2
            #@{solofight ...okay well maybe I don't [i]have[/i] to go it alone.|Hm, what are the team options?} [View other choices.]
                *goto teamstrats
    #Consider team strategies.
        *label teamstrats
        @{threevone With that in mind, what's the plan?|You have numbers, maybe you should use them.}
        *choice
            #Trust in our teamwork; we'll cover one another's backs.
                *set soutcome 4
                "We can take her," you say, stepping forward. "Follow my lead."
                
                *if (routeout = 4)
                    *goto badteamwork
                    
                *elseif ((rel_teddie < 40)) or ((rel_kay < 50))
                    *label badteamwork
                    @{(rel_kay < 50) "Um, if you're sure," answers Rampage, sounding just the opposite.|"Hmph," grumbles Fracture.}
                    
                    All of a sudden you're not filled with confidence. You advance, very conscious of the delay before the others follow.
                    
                    Opposite, Surpass's eyes dart to and fro, calculating. "Alright, let's rumble."
                    
                    She doesn't wait for you to reach her, charging out of the blocks like a rocket. You ready yourself to take the charge, then she drops a shoulder and kicks off towards Fracture, effortlessly bowling him over. You dive in to intervene, striking from the flank, then nearly wind up on the floor yourself as an out-of-sync Rampage collides with you from behind. Before you can get on the same page, Surpass zips between you at super speed, snagging Rampage's head on the way past and slamming her down to the ground.
                    
                    "Rampage!" Fracture's back up and furious, and the two of you attack together to force Surpass onto the defensive. It's feeling like every punch you throw is going wild as Surpass reacts like lightning, but at least she's preoccupied with protecting herself.
                    
                    "Together!" you call to Fracture. Unfortunately, getting instructions—or maybe just instructions from you—seems to throw him off, and he hesitates.
                    
                    Surpass needs no further invitation. She aims a punch at you, but it's a feint, and as you bring up your guard she switches up and delivers a brutal elbow to Fracture's head, dropping him in one shot. Rampage suddenly hurtles into the action before you can advise caution or strategise; she drives Surpass back with a flurry of wild blows. Kicker is, that leaves you a few steps behind, and as you rush to catch back up to the fight, Surpass catches Rampage's fist in a burst of sparks, then whips her bodily into the closest wall. Rampage crashes hard, then drops face first to the ground.
                    
                    Just like that, it's down to you and Surpass.
                    
                    Son of a bitch.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
                *else
                    *set fightscore_s +1
                    "On it," Fracture growls.
                    
                    You advance, confidence bolstered by the presence of your allies. Opposite, Surpass's eyes dart to and fro, calculating.
                    
                    "Alright. Let's rumble."
                    
                    Surpass doesn't wait for you to reach her, charging out of the blocks like a rocket. You ready yourself to take the charge, then she drops a shoulder and kicks off towards Fracture. He doesn't have time to brace, and she effortlessly bowls him over. You and Rampage react in sync, striking at the hero from either flank and forcing her onto the defensive while Fracture recovers.
                    
                    Pressing the attack, it's feeling like every punch you throw is going wild, super speed leaving your offence in the dust. Rampage fares little better; wherever her hands fly, Surpass is nowhere to be found. Still, between the two of you, you're keeping Surpass pinned, unable to focus on anything outside of protecting herself. Whenever she attempts to counter one of you the other is already taking a swing, and she has to pull back or get nailed. In short order, Fracture has regained his bearings and joins the fray, heaping yet more pressure onto Surpass's defences.
                    
                    You sense you're approaching a breaking point. A sidekick grazes Surpass rather than missing entirely. A coordinated combination from your teammates sees fist and bone thudding heavily into the hero's blocking arms. You swing for her and though she blurs with the speed of her movement, you clip her shoulder. With a grunt of pain she shoves Fracture away, then eats an elbow to the head from Rampage for her trouble.
                    
                    "Oh fuck this!" Surpass suddenly roars, drawing back an arm and letting fly. Your own outstretched fist cracks her in the jaw, but she tanks the hit and keeps on coming, driving her fist into Rampage's gut and folding her in half. Fracture snarls in anger, clubs Surpass in the back, then gets absolutely launched by a reverse kick. He crashes into the closest wall, collapsing in a heap. Rampage is too winded to fight back as Surpass grabs and throws her like a rag doll to land on top of Fracture. You land one more solid punch to the head, but then she shoves you with such force you nearly end up on your ass. 
                    
                    At least with some separation, you can spare a moment to glance at your teammates. It's not a promising sight; neither of them looks like they're getting up any time soon. 
                    
                    Son of a bitch.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
            #I'll soak up Surpass's hits to give the others an opening. I can take it.
                *label tanksurpass
                *set soutcome 4
                "@{(instinctive > 45) The second you see your chance, ruin her day,"|Wait for your chance. Be patient,"} you murmur to the others, then start forward.
          
                You haven't closed half the gap when Surpass launches into action, charging at you with blinding speed. Barely you bring up your arms and plant your feet, absorbing the first thunderous blow with scarcely a ripple in your stance. She doesn't stop, darting left and right in blurs of motion too quick for your eyes to follow. Even with your focus fully bent towards defence, each lightning volley of strikes comes faster than the last, impossible to keep up.
                    
                Gritting your teeth, you weather the storm. A block here, a counter there, and a whole, whole lot of your @{armour carapace doing its level best to shield you from the onslaught|endurance getting punch-tested.} No sign of the others jumping in, and you can't divert a split-second's attention to check.
                
                Come on. Come on, come on. You don't know how much more you can handle.
                
                *if ((armour) or (guts > 30))
                    *set fightscore_s +1
                    Surpass's knuckles plough into your jaw, and for a moment you're seeing stars before you wrench yourself back to earth, rebuilding your guard just in time to soak her follow up punch with a solid thunk.
                    
                    She backs off, letting out an incredulous laugh. "Dude, you're an absolute tank." A gleam that you don't much like enters her eyes. You recall her glee back at the loan shark upon discovering Wyrd could take a hit. "Challenge accept—fuck!"
                    
                    At last, the cavalry. As one, Rampage and Fracture hit Surpass from behind, catching her totally off guard. Sparks fly with Rampage's every blow, and while Fracture's attacks lack that same flashy SFX, the heavy thud of bone thumping into flesh speaks for itself. Surpass, now, has her turn to mount a frantic defence. Not so fun on the other end, is it?
                    
                    You take a moment for a well-earned breather and then rejoin the fray, though Rampage and Fracture are doing such a good job of battering Surpass around that you can barely fit a fist in edgeways. 
                    
                    As she reels from a hard shot to the body, you catch a glimpse of Surpass's eyes right as some switch suddenly flips. They narrow furiously, and then Surpass sways Rampage's fist, catches Fracture's arm midswing, and ejects you from her vicinity with a push kick. You stumble backward, and in the scant seconds it takes for you to regain balance, Surpass has hurled Fracture bodily into the closest wall, then sent Rampage flying to join him with a spinning elbow. Your teammates both crash into a motionless heap, and just like that, you're once more facing her alone.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
                *else
                    Surpass's knuckles slam into your jaw, and suddenly you're facedown on the ground.
                    
                    Ah. That much.
                    
                    She rang your bell good, knocking you so dizzy that it's a struggle just to lift yourself from prone, let alone stand back up. After what feels like hours, you manage to at least lever yourself into a seated position as the world finally slows its spinning.
                    
                    Your new vantage means a front row seat to Surpass teeing off on Rampage and Fracture. You don't know whether they rushed in after you got flattened or Surpass spotted them coming, but the end result is the same. As you look on she catches Rampage's fist, then Fracture's arm, and then with only a slight grunt of effort, bodily hurls them both against the closest wall with an almighty crash. Both of your teammates drop into a motionless heap in a shower of masonry.
                    
                    Surpass dusts off her hands, then turns her attention back to you. "Where were we?"
                    
                    Just like that, it's down to you and her again. Grimacing, you force yourself onto your feet, willing stability into your legs.
                    *goto fightsurpass2
            *if ((not (armour)) and (speciality = 3)) #I like the idea of tanking, but uh, let's get my carapace readied first.
                *set juice -15
                *set armour true
                The memory of Surpass pounding your armour with fists like sledgehammers plays through your thoughts. 
                
                Yeah, you ain't doing this without suiting up first.
                
                Hastily, you draw on your inner reserves and push them outward. Soon, your shoulders bear the familiar weight of the protective layer, the plates layering and thickening moment by moment.
                
                *gosub juicecheck
                
                Your preparations haven't gone unnoticed: Surpass starts rolling a shoulder, then the other. "I see you, Shelly. C'mon, let's rumble."
                
                *goto tanksurpass
            #Feign surrender, then signal the others to attack while Surpass is distracted.
                *set soutcome 4
                *if subterfuge < 20
                    "So uh, I don't think we can win this," you tell the others, mentally begging them to play along. Fracture scowls at you. Rampage throws up her hands.
                    
                    "What are you talking about!? We can't—"
                    
                    "Just roll with it!" you hiss under your breath, already getting a sinking feeling. You look over at Surpass. "Uh, we're giving up."
                    
                    For a moment, she just stares. Then she starts to laugh. "$!{snick} you've gotta be the worst liar I've ever seen. Fuck kind of bullshit is that?"
                    
                    "Hold on—"
                    
                    *label baddeceit
                    "Nah."
                    
                    In less than a blink of the eye, Surpass is on top of you, scattering your trio like pins. Unbalanced and distracted by your failed ploy, Fracture is planted onto the ground with a massive body slam, Rampage thrown bodily into nearest wall, some ten feet off the ground.
                    
                    As for you, Surpass gleefully scythes your legs from under you with a brutal roundhouse kick. She springs away to ram a shoulder into Rampage's gut, driving her into the wall once again, and by the time you've stumbled back to your feet, Fracture's been double-foot stomped into the concrete. Surpass stops to admire her handiwork—your groaning, injured comrades—and then snaps her head back towards you, a gleam in her eyes.
                    
                    So much for numbers. Fuck.
                    
                    *goto fightsurpass2
                
                You heave a sigh, glancing at the others. "Sorry guys, I think we're cooked." Rampage begins to protest, Fracture, to scowl, but you're bobbing your tendrils, twisting them to and fro. The unusual motion catches their attention, and to your relief, you see understanding.
                
                "You really think so?" Rampage asks, shoulders slumping.
                
                Nodding, you look to Surpass. "Look, we know it's a foregone conclusion…"
                    
                *if ((surpass_fight = 3) or (subterfuge > 40))
                        *set fightscore_s +1
                        Surpass hesitates. @{(surpass_fight = 3) "Not used to you people learning after getting your asses beat. Makes a change.|"Not gonna lie, this is a new one.}" After a few more seconds of watchful scrutiny, she seems to come to a conclusion. "Alright then." She cautiously approaches while you remain 'docile', tendrils lowered unthreateningly at your sides. Closer, and closer still…
                        
                        You throw the signal as Surpass reaches to grab your arm. Rampage immediately launches into a flying punch to the face, and a half-second later Fracture rams a bone-clubbed fist into the hero's gut. You put the finishing touches with a fierce knee that cracks her square in the jaw, dropping her to the ground. 
                        
                        Your triumph is short-lived. Rampage kneels on Surpass, piling on the offence. She strikes once, twice—Surpass catches her hand and throws her bodily away. You and Fracture wade in as Surpass leaps to her feet, but she's too fast, too strong, parrying or simply absorbing your blows, then sending you flying with a single palm to the chest. You crash onto the concrete, gasping for air, and get a front-row seat to Surpass hurling first Fracture then Rampage into a pile of rubble, leaving them both groaning.
                        
                        Son of a bitch. Looks like it's you against her after all. Grimacing, you push yourself upright.
                        
                        *goto fightsurpass2
                *else
                        Surpass fixes you with an unblinking stare. Several seconds tick by, then your heart sinks as she shakes her head. @{(surpass_fight = 2) "The other day was my best fight in ages. Now you're wimping out?|"Almost had me going there. No face really helps you spin your bullshit, huh?} No dice, $!{snick}, you're bluffing."
                        
                        *goto baddeceit
            *selectable_if (routeout = 2) #Before I can suggest anything, Rampage strides forward, buzzing with electricity.
                *set soutcome 4
                *set fightscore_s +1
                "I got this," says Rampage, raising her thrumming fists.
                
                "Heh, you wish." Surpass lazily rolls a shoulder, then the other. "Would prefer to settle things with $!{snick} there, but I'm not gonna say no to a tune up, Bo Peep."
                
                Alongside you, Fracture stiffens. Rampage drops to a snarl. "You talk too much."
                
                "I'm right here. Shut me up."
                
                That's all the invitation Rampage needs, kicking off the ground to charge the waiting hero. With unspoken assent, you and Fracture follow her in unison.
                
                Ahead, Surpass plants her feet and meets Rampage's rush head-on in an explosion of sparks. They wrestle for position, hands locked together; Surpass forcing Rampage's wrists backward, then Rampage turning the tables with a burst of blue light. Surpass grunts, then thrusts a knee into Rampage's abdomen so hard it knocks your ally's legs from underneath her. Before Surpass can exploit the opening, you and Fracture are there, striking the hero from both sides.
                
                As your fists land home Surpass retreats, covering up while you press the advantage, giving her no chance to catch her breath. Fracture rocks her with a body shot, you throw an uppercut, chinning her. She staggers, teetering and almost falling, then Rampage is back in there to deliver a pair of crackling punches.
                
                "Oh fuck this!" Surpass suddenly blurs, catching Rampage's leg mid-kick with a pained grunt. Fracture tries to intervene, only succeeding in eating a whiplike backhand. You leap forwards, but Surpass bodily lifts Rampage and swings her like a human club to smash you to the floor. You tumble head over heels, halted only when your back collides with a crack in the concrete. By the time you stop seeing stars and manage to drag yourself back to your feet, Surpass is hurling Fracture against the nearest wall to join Rampage in a heap at its base.
                
                Surpass's head snaps around to you. There's a gleam in her eyes, even with one of them swollen almost closed.
                
                So much for numbers. Fuck.
                
                *goto fightsurpass2
            #@{threevone On second thoughts, maybe it's not as simple as ganging up on her...|Hm, what can I do alone?} [View other choices.]
                *goto solostrats
            
*label fightsurpass2
*page_break This fight's far from over.
@{fightscore_s You've taken a beating with little to show for it. Have to tread carefully from here.|You've put a bit of a dent in Surpass's indomitable aura. Can you go one step further?|DUMMY}

Energised excitement pours from your adversary, bobbing in place with her fists raised. "Don't tell me that's all you've got, $!{snick}!" she calls. "I'm just getting started!"

Too late to back down. You consider your next move.

Better make it a good one.
*choice
    #@{gutsrestore I made myself stronger. I'm not who she fought before, and I'll prove it.|I'll count on pure grit. Let's go.}
        @{(expressive > 55) "Weird, I was about to say the same thing," you bat back.|"Are you here to fight or talk?"}
        
        @{(expressive > 55) She chuckles|"If it's fighting you want…" she shrugs elaborately} and then immediately returns to the offence. You're beginning to suspect that it's her sole strategy.
        
        Your own plan starts with bracing yourself and literally taking it on the chin as Surpass's fist slams into your jaw. It's deeply reckless to drop your guard, but it enables you to step into intimate range without giving Surpass a chance to keep you at bay. Your fists and tendrils are primed and ready. Now comes the true test of your mettle.
        
        Says something when eating a superpowered punch to the face is the easy part.
        
        You begin an onslaught of striking the likes of which you've never attempted: point-blank punches, elbows, knees, and tendril clubs into every inch of Surpass you can possibly hit. Initially she's on the back foot, but then, with what sounds like a laugh, she begins firing back shots of her own and turns the fight into an all-out slugfest. 
        
        *if guts > 30
            *set fightscore_s +1
            The hits come thick and fast, heavy blows reverberating through your entire body. You ride the wave, endure, and continue to fight, laying into the hero with full force. Impact shocks echo up your arms and legs, urging you onward. Harder. Faster. 
            
            It's been years since you last felt so strong.
            
            *if ((guts > 48) and (fightscore_s = 3))
                *set soutcome 6
                *comment special outcome where you don't get hurt, earning more respect
                *goto surpassoutcome2
            *else
                It can't last forever. Something has to give. [i]Someone.[/i]
                
                *if fightscore_s = 3
                    You have this. You have this.
                    *goto surpassoutcome2
                *else
                    Surpass's fist smashes into your face like a thunderbolt, and as you collapse bonelessly to the ground, you know that someone is you.
                    *goto surpassoutcome1
        *else
            Something which, with rising dismay, you begin to realise suits Surpass better than it does you.
            
            A body blow drives you back a step. A punch to the ribs. Another to the head. Suddenly the engagement shifts from an even exchange of hits to Surpass pressing an assault and you desperately trying to cover up as your endurance runs dry, your body giving out under the intense punishment.
            
            With a shout, Surpass delivers a final uppercut that lands flush, lifting you from your feet to crash to the ground, stars spiralling before your eyes.
            *goto surpassoutcome1
    #It's do or die: let the Juice flow through my body, and bring my powers to bear.
        *set juice -20
        Anything short of maximum effort, and you're done.
        
        Gathering up everything that remains, you reach inward and tap into the malignancy at your core. 
        
        Fresh strength floods into your system. Your tendrils squirm, tasting at the air. Your membrane thrums with a heartbeat all its own.
        
        Thump thump.
        
        Thump thump.
        
        *gosub juicecheck
        
        *set fightscore_s +1
        A low rumble rises from somewhere within you. After two, three seconds, you realise you're growling, and immediately stop. You suppress your pang of concern. Something else for your overflowing 'deal with this later' tray. You can't afford distractions.
        
        Surpass makes that especially clear with a headlong charge. You lash out your tendrils, stopping her in her tracks to block the clubbing blows. Immediately you leap at her, swinging your fists with reckless abandon. She grunts, covering up as your attacks grow wilder and wilder. You feel [i]good[/i], riding a wave of giddy euphoria as unnatural vigour fills you to the brim, your knuckles beating a hammer and anvil rhythm upon Surpass's body. @{juiceless The hunger lessens, ebbs to a low ache.|} You're unstoppable.
        
        Surpass disagrees.
        
        *if fightscore_s = 3
            *goto surpassoutcome2
        *else
            Another haymaker connects, but instead of the satisfying thrill of impact, it's like striking solid steel. Your fist rebounds, pain howling through your arm. No, hold on. [i]You're[/i] howling, why are you—a roundhouse kick lands flush to your head, knocking that train of thought from its rails and your feet from the ground.
            
            On the floor and seeing stars, your Juice-fuelled strength deserts you in an instant.
            *goto surpassoutcome1
    #Honestly, I think it's time for survival mode.
        *set vantagebeating 2
        
        *if mc_health = 1
            *set mc_health 3
            *set injurydesc 9
            
        You're not confident of your odds in a straight fight, and not willing to overexert your powers. Your back is bumping against the wall.
        
        That leaves hunkering down on defence until you have a chance to bail. @{(soutcome = 4) Or the others pull themselves together, but you aren't optimistic. You try not to think about what happens if you slip away and leave them both.|}
        
        You breathe deeply, tapping your jaw with each set of knuckles in turn, psyching yourself up to fight for your life.
        
        Surpass measures you up, then crashes into you like waves against the shore.
        
        She's relentless, and you're overmatched. You can barely keep up your guard, let alone fight back. And that first one isn't exactly holding up great either.
        
        Just as you realise that this isn't going to work, her fist smashes into your jaw and drops you to the ground.
        
        "You're not half bad, $!{snick}." Surpass's voice is foggy and faint, hard to hear through the ringing of your skull. "Not half great either. About time we—" A quiet beeping sound cuts her off. "Oh what the fuck is this? Yeah?" The last word is spoken like she's picked up a phone. ""Say again?" she says, then pauses. "…What." Another pause. "You can't be serious! I'm like three seconds from—" Pause, then a furious growl. "Fine. What the fuck ever. On my way." Another snarl of frustration. "Guess you're off the hook, $!{snick}." 
        
        Super speed footsteps rapidly recede. With thirty seconds or so to recuperate, you pull your rattled brains together enough to lever yourself up off the ground.
        
        *set soutcome 3
        *goto thatwaslucky
    *selectable_if (nodes) #Launch an all-out assault alongside the nodes.
        *set fightscore_s +1
        *set nodes false
        *set node true
        [i]eat. prey. hunt.[/i]
        
        They've patiently kept in line since you brought them out. Now seems a fitting moment to bring them into the fray. You urge the nodes into motion, assembling the trio around your ankles.
        
        Surpass groans. "Great. Been thinking I needed more of those gross little bastards in my life."
        
        "Yeah, they've missed you too," you call, finding an inexplicable grin on your face.
        
        [i]eat. blood.[/i]
        
        The nodes sense your anticipation. Every second or two, one of them creeps a little further forward. You send a mental chastisement and they temporarily halt. Before their over-eagerness can cause headaches, you break into a run and lead the charge.
        
        One node outstrips you and leaps at Surpass, who backhands it out of the air. That leaves her open for you to land a solid hit to the body, and as she shoves you clear, the next node is biting at her calf.
        
        [i]prey. hunt. eat.[/i]
        
        Almost as one entity, you and the nodes harry Surpass from every angle, leaving no opportunity to mount a counter-attack. One clings to her back, another gnaws her arm, the third clambers enterprisingly higher, trying to get at her neck. Punching and kicking feels tame by comparison, though maybe its the nodes' euphoria bleeding through. Literally, considering what they're tasting.
        
        Surpass kicks you away from her then shakes her arm wildly, attempting to dislodge the node, which clings for dear life. Even so, it slides ever downward until it reaches her hand, at which point it decides to bite again. You feel the knuckles in your own mouth, another tang of blood.
        
        Then Surpass smashes her hands together and crushes the node like a grapefruit.
        *page_break
        You scream, clutching your head against the backlash of psychic agony. Ichorous flesh chunks rain onto the ground as you drunkenly stumble.
        
        [i]pain. gone. pain. eat. eat![/i]
        
        The survivors refuse to flee, biting and clawing at Surpass with renewed intensity. It keeps her at bay while you recuperate, get your shaken psyche back under control.
        
        Which, incidentally, you manage just soon enough that you're fully aware when Surpass rips another node clear and dismembers its dendrites. The node's hideous screech pierces the air, pierces your skull, and Surpass drops it in alarm.
        
        *if fightscore_s < 3
            The collective strain is too much. You collapse to the floor, the node's dying screams of agony reverberating around your mind.
            *goto surpassoutcome1
        
        *else
            "Fuck, uh."
            
            Her sudden hesitancy is a lifeline. You stagger again, the pain redoubled, the node's dying screams of agony reverberating around your mind.
            
            Barely, just barely, you hold it all together, riding out the wave and keeping yourself on your feet. The surviving node bails, scuttling over to hide behind your legs.
            
            [i]gone. alone. us.[/i]
            
            "Not gonna lie, feel kinda guilty about that one," says Surpass, staring at the twitching remains.
            
            You spit ichor onto the ground and raise your fists once more.
            *goto surpassoutcome2
    *selectable_if ((speciality = 2) and (fighting_style = 3)) #Test the limits of my mastery: detach a tendril to control remotely. [Combo: Mutations + Wielder]
        *set fightscore_s +1
        *achieve synergy
        *set harmony +1
        You've stretched, strained, and altered your tendrils in all manner of ways. Not once have you shed them, let alone kept control outside of your own body.
        
        Hell of a time to test a new technique. Without a word, you advance on Surpass. You'll need all your concentration for this.
        
        She's eager as ever to meet you, and a quick exchange of blows swiftly sees you on the back foot. You give ground freely, focusing on the sensations running through your @{mutations enfanged tendril|tendril}, on the tendril itself. A limb as much yours as an arm or a leg, even if you may wish otherwise. You're struck by a rush of doubt. Is this foolishness? You can't sever your body parts. There's still time, you can come up with something else—
        
        No. No second-guesses. You feel every inch of articulation in your tendril, every angle it can bend. 
        
        It twitches, as if acknowledging your attention. You block a punch from Surpass, take a deep breath, and snap your membrane to its very thinnest, cutting the tendril loose.
        
        Pain first, at once muted and bone-deep. Something inside of you screeches in protest, a tangible sense of enraged loss. You wall it all out, concentrating on the tendril. If it hurts, you're still feeling its sensations. Feel its sensations, maintain control.
        
        The tendril drops onto Surpass and wraps around her neck.
        
        "What the f—"
        
        You squeeze, clamping its grip. @{mutations The tendril's barbs bite into Surpass's flesh.|It coils tight, choking Surpass like a constrictor.} Her hands fly to her throat, fighting to work fingers underneath and alleviate the pressure. It's… weird, having your thoughts in two different places, but you can't allow the distraction; have to keep this advantage as much as possible. You tee up the struggling hero and start landing shot after heavy shot to her body. Her face is turning red.
        
        She closes her eyes. You dare to hope that you've got her beaten, only for it to be instantly dashed. Her fingers sink deep into the tendril, and then she tears it in half.
            
        You very, [i]very[/i] much feel it.
        
        Reeling, head pounding with psychic feedback and another round of discordant screeching, @{(fightscore_s = 3) you barely see Surpass's fist coming. She crushes through your paltry guard, knocking you to the ground. You have to scramble to stand back up, expecting a follow-through. Instead she's standing still and regarding you with what you're certain is a cocky smirk under the shemagh.|you don't even see the fist that knocks you to the floor coming.} 
            
        *if fightscore_s = 3
            *goto surpassoutcome2
        
        *else
            *goto surpassoutcome1

*label surpassoutcome1
*page_break Get up. Get up.
*set mc_health 5
*set injurydesc 9
*set surpass_stomach 2
*set hurtbysurpass true

You struggle to bring your scrambled thoughts in order. They're slipping through your fingers, darting in and out of view. You need to—you just have to get set—you have to defend—

Planting one foot underneath yourself, you try to leverage it into a crouch, pitching drunkenly to the side in the attempt and collapsing back to the floor. You're seeing double, two sets of legs strolling unhurriedly towards you. Surpass leans down, then drags you upright by the tendril. Your feet scrabble and skid off the ground, legs unable to bear your weight. With your free tendril, you beat impotently at Surpass's head and shoulders, weak slaps little more than annoyances.

@{(fightscore_s = 1) "Quit embarrassing yourself. You're not in my league."|"You're good, $!{snick}, but not good enough. Now knock that off, you're embarrassing yourself."}

Any reply you were going to give is swept by the wayside by a sensation that blows straight through your groggy haze.

And your stomach.

Your eyes drop, perfectly timed to see Surpass ripping her fist free from your abdomen, dripping blood and ichor. She stares at her hand for a moment, then the hole in your membrane. "Damn. Uh. Kinda thought you'd take that better."

*choice
    #$!{forename} has encountered an error and needs to close.
        You can't—she just—
        
        there's a fucking [i]hole[/i] in your torso—
        
    #I'd be furious if it wasn't for all the pain.
        What moron just [i]assumes[/i] their super strength punches won't cause serious damage?
        
        If you end up dead because of this—well, you'll be dead. Then again, after what happened with not!Prii earlier…
        
        None of these thoughts are distracting you from the knot of bloody agony that is your abdomen. It's unbearable—
        
    #Looks like this is it for me.
        Killed by a hero. Ironic.
        
        Guess that's that. Your eyes begin to flutter closed—
        
    #sorry, everyone.
        You always continued for their sake. Enduring it all for their memory, not your own good. Grant. Shauna. Prii. Beth. @{ephalanx God, Beth. You wonder what she'll think, seeing you after all these years, but already dead. The concept is almost too cruel for words.|}
        
        At least you can finally rest, though it means letting them down.
        
        Though it means—
        
An impact, a clap of thunder. Suddenly you're torn from Surpass's grasp and on the floor. Lying there facedown you faintly hear the hero cursing, and then an almighty crash shakes the ground with a cacophany of collapsing masonry. A building came down. Must have.

The others… @{(soutcome = 4) they jumped back in to help?|they came back for you?}

*set soutcome 4
*goto sonofabitch

*label surpassoutcome2
*page_break

*if soutcome = 6
    On and on you trade blows, neither of you letting up. Each time you think you've found your limit, you dig up that little bit more resolve. Each time you think Surpass is done, she roars back stronger. The hero smashes a skull-rattling elbow into your jaw. You shake it off and retaliate with a headbutt. Bone crunches.
                
*else                
    @{surpass_fight "Making me work for it this time, $!{snick}!"|"Giving me a workout here, $!{snick}!"|"You're actually putting up a fight this time, $!{snick}! I'm so proud."}
    
    Your fist meets Surpass's face the same moment as her own slams into your abdomen. Bone crunches beneath your knuckles while the hit nearly lifts you off the ground, leaving you winded and gasping. You stumble. The air isn't quite coming.
    
"Motherf—" Surpass breaks away@{(soutcome = 6)  from the brawl,|,} a hand clapped to her face. @{(soutcome = 6) You pause, watching.|Doubled over and struggling for air, you simply watch.} Slowly she removes her hand, revealing her eye socket to be a mess of gore, streaks of blood running down her face. If the eye's still intact, she sure isn't seeing out of it. @{(soutcome = 6) She inspects the blood on her fingers, then lets out a throaty laugh. "Alright, you got me." Her voice is strained.|"Pretty good," she says, voice strained. Then, she raises her other fist. It drips crimson. Ichor mingled with blood. "Tag."}

*if soutcome = 6
    Energy surges through you, filling your battered body to the brim. She can be hurt. She can be beaten. Even so, the hero stands undaunted; if anything, she looks more excited than before. You face one another down. A moment of stillness. The eye of the storm.
    
*else
    *set mc_health 5
    *set injurydesc 9
    *set surpass_stomach 2
    *set hurtbysurpass true
    Down, your eyes drift. You don't remember when you wrapped your hands to your stomach. As you lift them, they come away bloody.
    
    Your legs buckle. You drop to your knees.

    There's a fist-sized hole in your abdomen, straight through the membrane.
    
@{(soutcome = 6) A quiet beeping breaks the atmosphere. Surpass frowns, then touches a hand to her ear. "Say again?" She gives you a 'hold on' gesture, listens a moment, then scoffs. "Kinda in the middle of something here! I—" She stops, then furiously growls. "Fine. What the fuck ever. On my way." Surpass drops her hand and heaves a massive sigh before addressing you. "I gotta bounce. Guess we're finishing this another time." She points at you, arm outstretched. "Better not lose to anyone else before then."|Through swimming vision, you make out Surpass touching a hand to her ear. "Say again?" she says, then pauses. "…What." Another pause. "You can't be serious! I'm like three seconds from—" Pause, then a furious growl. "Fine. What the fuck ever. On my way." Surpass drops her hand and glares at you with her good eye. "Guess you're off the hook, $!{mask}. You better not bleed out."}

*if soutcome = 6
    *choice
        #"If you don't, then neither will I."
            "Heh, deal."
            
        #"What, the principal call you to their office?"
            Surpass stops. For a moment, you think she's going to start back in your direction. Instead she shakes her head.
            
            "Some things matter more, chucklehead."
            
        #"Looking forward to it."
            "Same." She thunks her fist into her palm with a loud smack. 
            
        #Let her go.
            Without Surpass on your heels, escape is in touching distance. Why jeopardise that by opening your mouth? You keep the damn thing shut.
            
    In a superspeed instant, Surpass zips away and out of sight.
    
    *label thatwaslucky
    @{soloescape Well, that's that. Time to make yourself scarce, though you're musing about the strange reprieve as you go.|With her gone, you can check on your battered teammates. Thankfully, neither of them are that badly hurt, just stunned from getting ragdolled. You've got them back on their feet in short order and then collectively get the hell out of dodge.}
    
    *goto escapethezone
    
*else
    *set speed +1
    Needless to say, you're too preoccupied to offer a response. In a super speed instant, Surpass zips away and out of sight.
    
    Time passes. Too busy holding in your guts to know how much. Then, voices.
    
    "Oh fuck, oh god. $!{mask}, can you hear me?" 
    
    Rampage. @{(soutcome = 4) Right... her and Fracture only got knocked around. Lucky them.|She came back for you?}
    
    You make a noise vaguely passable as an acknowledgement.
    
    "You're conscious. Good. We're leaving." Fracture. @{(soutcome = 4) So they're both alright.|More surprising he's here, but he'd follow Rampage anywhere.} You let out a high-pitched hiss.
    
    "We can't move ${mc_him}!" Rampage protests.
    
    "You'd rather leave ${mc_him} behind?" Fracture counters. Rampage goes silent, then you feel a hand on your arm; Fracture loops it around his shoulder. On your opposite, Rampage does the same.
    
    "Ready?" Rampage asks. You look down at your punctured abdomen. The bleeding has grown sludgy, a congealed black mass clotted by your membrane. Good as you'll get.
    
    You start to take a deep breath, halt as you realise how bad an idea that would be, then just nod.
    
    Here comes a real bad time.
    *set soutcome 5
    
    *goto escapethezoneinjured
*label escapethezone
*page_break
*gosub heatset
Moving as quickly as you dare, @{soloescape you|the three of you} hurry into the Zone's outskirts, your progress marked by the ever more traversable terrain. @{(heat < 3) There's light DPR presence, but the majority of their officers must have moved further in, and your path remains clear.|There's flashlight beams and DPR officers all over the place. Once or twice you even catch glimpses of police uniforms; you've really kicked the hornet's nest.} Thankfully, the perimeter is completely unmanned. Good thing they don't have the personnel to cordon it all off.

@{soloescape Flitting past the barriers, a hoarse voice calls out to you. "$!{mask}! Over here!" You look around and spot Rampage and Fracture hunkered in a doorway. They waited for you.|You flit past the barriers without stopping, all bent on the singular goal of escape.}

@{soloescape Hurrying to them, you exchange wordless nods and immediately set off running together.|} Last time out you split up after leaving the scene of the crime. Tonight, none of you are eager to separate. Get cornered alone and you're toast.

This late, the streets are deserted, and with plenty of twists and turns to obscure your route, you're confident you've shaken off heroes and DPR both. Well. Relatively confident. Not enough that you stop looking over your shoulder.

@{(expressive > 40) You let out an unabashed|You let out a rare unfiltered} sigh of relief as you recognise the street you're turning onto. Home stretch.
*page_break You made it.
The safehouse door is like an oasis in the desert. Rampage slots her keys into the lock, breathing a huge sigh of relief as the door swings open. Inside, you see a dishevelled Wyrd, pacing back and forth. They swivel to face the entrance. Their face goes through several emotions: excitement, apprehension, disappointment.

"Well, come on in. Letting the heat out."

Their eyes rove across your trio as you enter. They lean through the open door, checking behind you, and then close it with a firm click. Their shoulders sag. Fracture and Rampage stumble on into the hideout, dead on their feet. Wyrd stays where they are, and briefly you're alone with them.

*choice
    #I show my relief that they're here.
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 7
        "Mal! You're safe!"
        
        Surprise flickers over their face, though their expression swiftly settles into a more familiar smirk. "Aw, love you too, $!{aka}."     
        
        @{interest_wyrd You hesitate a moment as you assure yourself they mean platonically.|You laugh self-consciously. That burst out of you a little more than intended.} "I'm just glad nothing happened."
        
        "Backatcha," Mal replies, grin edging a little wider.
        
    #I'm frustrated that they just up and vanished.
        *set rel_wyrd %- 5
        *set wyrdstuff 2
        "Where the fuck were you?" It comes out as a snarl.
        
        Wyrd looks up at you and then laughs incredulously. "Keeping watch, dude. I warned you and then got the hell out of dodge. I couldn't take on all six of them by myself."
        
        "And you couldn't circle back around? We needed your help." It's been too long a night to keep these emotions bottled up.
        
        They shake their head. "Look, $!{aka2}, I'm sorry you're mad, but it was bail or get my ass kicked. Do I need to spell out how that would have been worse than disappearing?"
        
        *choice
            #Begrudgingly accept the explanation.
                "Fine," you grind out.
                
                "Glad we could clear that up," Wyrd replies, wearing a deeply punchable smirk.
                
            #Stay mad.
                *set rel_wyrd %- 5
                "I'm just hearing excuses," you snap.
                
                Wyrd rolls their eyes. "Whatever."
        
        There's a tense pause as the two of you don't quite glare at each other. You start past them, but they move just enough to impede your progress.
        
        "What?" you growl.
        
        "I'm guessing Dion and Wil aren't with you?"
        
        *goto stillwaitingon
    #Walk straight past them and collapse onto a couch.
        *set wyrdstuff 3
        You hear a soft snort as you walk past Wyrd, followed by their voice. "Hi Mallory, thanks for warning us earlier. Oh, no problem, ${aka}, happy you made it out too."
        
        No amount of snarky commentary is going to keep you from your goal: unerringly, you seek out the sofa and fall onto it facefirst.
        
        Alas for your designs on slumber, it's but a moment before you hear Wyrd's voice again.
        
    #It's good to see them in one piece, and I tell them as much.
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 5
        "Glad you made it out okay," you say.
        
        Wyrd glances at you with a wry smile. "Someone's gotta be pleased to see me, right?"
        
        
@{(wyrdstuff = 3) |Their expression suddenly sobers, tension seeping into their voice.}"So, ah, still waiting on Dion and Wil, huh?"
*label stillwaitingon

*choice
    #Nod.
        @{(wyrdstuff = 3) Takes a little doing, facedown in the cushions, but you pull it off.|}
        
        They exhale heavily. "Okay."
        
    #Shrug.
        *set rel_wyrd %- 5
        @{(wyrdstuff = 3) Since you're lying down, that's more a single-shoulder shuffle than a real shrug, but you think they get the idea.|}
        
        "Helpful," they say sourly.
        
    #@{(wyrdstuff = 2) They're irritating, but I'm not going to be a dick. Offer reassurance.|Reassure them: I'm pretty sure Dion got away.}
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 5
        @{(wyrdstuff = 3) You twist your head out of its cushioned berth to address them. |} "If it helps, Surpass went after Dion and came up empty-handed."
        
        They nod slowly. "Good to know. Wil?"
        
        @{(poutcome = 1) You shrug uncomfortably.|"$!{whe} was okay last I saw."}
        
        Another nod.

You mull their concern over. Not as carefree as they'd have you believe, huh?

*if mc_health > 1
    *if getspiked = 2
        "Hold on a sec. You're hurt." Mallory gestures to the spike still sticking from your shoulder. @{juiceless "Got an extra decoration and…" They hesitate. "Your goop's all funky. You okay?"|It's been there for so long at this point that the throbbing ache has almost faded into the background. "Got an extra decoration there."} Before you can answer they hold up a palm. "Stay there." 
        
        "Hey, wait—" Too late, they zip from the room like a parahuman whirlwind. Moments later, they return, toting a green medical box.
        
        @{doctormal "So believe it or not, I know my way around a medical kit." They grin. "Doctor Mal is in the house."|"You already know I know what I'm doing with this, so just let me take care of that, alright?" Their tone isn't an offer.|"I know you weren't so hot on me treating you before, but I'm seriously not taking no for an answer this time." They fix you with a stern glare.|DUMMY}
        *choice
            #Comply.
                Taking a seat, you hold still and let them work. The sensation of hands moving across your body is uncomfortably familiar, and you can't help tensing as memories of blinding lights and surgical straps flash through your mind.
                
                *label maltreats
                @{(doctormal =2) Still, much like before, Mallory is deft and confident.|The good news is that Mallory clearly knows what they're doing.} You wish that could be more of a reassurance.
                
                "Gonna hurt here, try to stay calm," they murmur, gripping the stake impaling your shoulder. In one smooth pull they extract it, the pain suppressed by your membrane instantly blazing back into life. @{(expressive > 35) You cry out,|You bite back a cry,} gripping the edge of your stool. "There we go. Doing great."
                
                Despite the blaring pain in your shoulder, you reflect that without your membrane keeping things sealed up, this would look like a crime scene. Definitely makes Mallory's job easier as they begin stitching the wound shut, offering a steady stream of soothing encouragement all the while.
                *choice
                    #Better bedside manner than I'm used to.
                        A smile ghosts across your face. Gallows humour.
                        
                        You'd take a half dozen more sessions of Doctor Mallory over a single minute more of Hypothesis's ministrations.
                        
                    #Do other villains have to have back alley docs on call, or something?
                        Like, you're not going to be able to just drag somebody with obviously parahuman-inflicted injuries into a regular hospital, are you? The Businessmen seem like the kind of group who'd keep a professional on retainer, but what about the likes of S.C.U.M or the Shreds? Strikes you as a little too… professional for them.
                        
                        You recall Dion's mention of S.C.U.M's casualties during the Zone incident and grimace at the implications.
                        
                    #I'm counting down the seconds until this is over.
                        @{touchingokay This is a miserable experience through and through.|You're not fond of being touched at the best of times, much less in a medical setting.} Again and again you're bound to that table, struggling in vain against your bonds. Your skin crawls with a thousand pinpricks, @{juiceless and you don't know if it's a remembered sensation or your powers returning for another bite.|and you have to check to make sure you're not actually bleeding.}
                        
                        @{juiceless You need Juice. You need Juice. You need Juice.|You aren't. Not yet.}
                        
                "Okay, reckon I'm just about done here," Mal announces, straightening up. @{(doctormal = 3) "Told ya I wasn't all that bad." They wink.|"I'd tell you not to push yourself but well, you know. Villainy calls."}
                
                Gingerly you test your shoulder. Finding it mobile, if painful, you give them a nod.
                
                *goto maltreats2
            #Reluctantly comply.
                You're bracing yourself as you take a seat. Not looking forward to this. You've tensed up before Mallory even touches you, and it only gets worse. You flinch more than once, memories of blinding lights and surgical straps flashing through your mind.
                
                *goto maltreats
            #Complayne.
                "I can take care of myself," you grumble, leaning away from Mallory's grasp.
                
                They roll their eyes. "Sure, that's why you have a hole in you."
                
                "Not bleeding out, am I?"
                
                "And how were you planning on getting that stake out of you, again?"
                
                You shut your mouth and glower. After sitting you down, Mal busies themself taking care of your injury, prepping the area around, extracting the spike with one smooth pull—which hurts like a bitch, shocker—and then taking a deft needle to the task of stitching the wound. Good thing for you that your membrane could hold it shut, or this would look like a crime scene.
                
                Naturally, you wince and hiss and gripe every step of the way.
                
                Mal pauses in their needlework to grin at you. "You're a terrible patient, you know that?"
                *choice
                    #Sulk.
                        You look away, turning up your nose at them. They laugh softly. "Someone's not getting a lollipop."
                        
                        You don't dignify that with a response.
                        
                    #Nod.
                        Mal laughs. "At least you're self-aware."
                        
                        You'd shrug, but there's a hole in your shoulder.
                        
                    #"Do you heckle everyone you treat?"
                        "Only the ones who act like babies."
                        
                        You raise the arm that isn't currently getting stitched up and flip them the bird.
                        
                Eventually Mal straightens up. "Just about done here. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
                
                You roll your eyes at them.
                
                *label maltreats2
                *if (juiceless)
                    *set doctormal 4
                    *set doubt_wyrd + 10
                    "Oh, one more thing. Here." They hand you some kind of spring-loaded syringe, and you have to quash a swell of unease before accepting it. 
                    
                    *label gingerlyholding
                    Holding the implement gingerly between thumb and forefinger, you tilt your head in question. "What am I looking at?"
                    
                    "Power suppressant. Should tide you over until whatever's up with your goop resolves itself."
                    
                    *if knowledge > 40
                        Thoroughly taken aback, you look at them askance. "Where'd you get this?" You've read enough parahuman literature to know that suppressants aren't something you can just pick up at the local drugstore. Even factoring that your knowledge is five years stale, suppressants hitting the open market would have been too big a story for your catch-ups to miss.
                        
                        Mal shrugs. "Black market. Need help injecting it?"
                        
                        You eye them some more. Not much of an answer, and of course they've flipped the questions back onto you.
                    *else
                        For a few seconds, all you can do is stare at them in shock. "That's… a thing?"
                        
                        Mal laughs. "Sure is. Just don't expect to grab it at your local drugstore. Need help with the injecting?"
                        
                    *choice
                        #This may be a bad idea. I don't know how my powers will react.
                            *set content +1
                            *set malsyringe 1
                            *label malsyringe
                            @{malsyringe Mal picks up on your hesitance. "Not sure? Don't worry,|"Sweet. Lemme have a look." They take back the syringe, continuing on. "In case you're worried, this|Unfazed by your lukewarm response, they take back the syringe. "Cool. Don't worry, this|Mal goes on. "If it helps you any, this} stuff's harmless. Runs through your system in under six hours."
                            
                            @{malsyringe "…Fine." The thing is, you're in a corner. You don't have it in you to push through the night. Taking the injection is the lesser of two unpalatable evils.|You nod twice. It'll get you through the rest of the night.|"Alright." If it gets you through the night, that's a win.|You sigh and extend your arm. You're reluctant, but you're also out of options; if the pain starts back up in the middle of the night, you'll scream your cover to shreds.}
                            
                            Mal takes your wrist and lines up a good spot. You're stiff as a board, free hand clenched, ice trickling down your spine. When the syringe breaks skin, you let out a sound halfway to a whimper, have to stop yourself from pulling back.
                            
                            He gets upset if you do.
                            
                            "There we go." Mal withdraws the needle. You shiver, blinking and shaking your head, trying to dispel the memories. Mal continues. "Should kick in pretty much right away."
                            
                            At first, you're dubious. Then, the biting hunger prowling the edges of your consciousness begins to recede. Your membrane calms. The pain and nausea fade. The fog in your mind lifts. You feel—good is too strong a word—better. Better than a moment ago, at least.
                            
                            *set suppressants 2
                            *choice
                                #I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.
                                    As the old adage goes, if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is.
                                    
                                #I want their entire stock.
                                    Turning off your powers for a bit? Shit, where has this been all your life?
                                    
                                #This is bizarre.
                                    You're so used to your powers that now it's like a phantom limb. You concentrate on where your tendrils would usually form, and there's nothing. No sense of connection.
                                    
                            Mallory is studying you closely. As you catch their eye, they lean out of your personal space with a wry smile. "Here's some advice you didn't ask for. Recommend you figure out whatever messed up your goop and, you know, not do it again. I don't have a big supply of suppressants, and they drop off real fast. People's bodies adapt or something. Probably just as well. You know everyone would get weird about them otherwise."
                            
                            A bandaid on a gaping wound. This is why you don't get your hopes up. You nod.
                                    
                            Mal offers a thumbs up, then yawns. "Wurgh. I should get back to watching the door. You take it easy, $!{aka}. Doctor's orders."
                            
                            *goto offmalgoes
                        #I'm desperate for a reprieve. Any reprieve.
                            *set hate +1
                            *set malsyringe 2
                            "Please, yes," you blurt, masking a wince. You sound so damn eager. @{coven_history Maybe you can cower a little while you're at it.|Desperate to please, like always.|Too good at toeing the line.}
                            
                            *goto malsyringe
                        #I suppose if it takes the edge off...
                            *set trade +1
                            *set malsyringe 3
                            You give them a cautious nod. In truth, you know you'll need all the help you can get.
                            
                            *goto malsyringe
                        #No way in hell am I letting anyone inject me with anything.
                            *set rel_wyrd %- 5
                            *set malsyringe 4
                            "I don't want this. Keep it." You try to give the syringe back to Mal, but they keep their hands firmly at their sides.
                            
                            "You don't trust me, you mean." They don't sound annoyed, and their expression is neutral.
                            
                            "That's not what I said."
                            
                            The corner of their mouth twitches up. "I know."
                            
                            For all your stubbornness, a harsh truth sits in your heart. You don't have it in you to push through the night. @{(vials < 1) Fuck, you destroyed your Juice supply. What the hell are you going to do?|There's no way in hell you're getting back to your Juice stash at the container before morning.} 
                            
                            *goto malsyringe
                        
                *else
                    *set doctormal 4
                           
    *elseif (juiceless)
        "Hold on a sec. Something's off with you." Mallory looks you up and down, brow furrowing. "Your goop's all funky. You okay?"
        
        As if on cue, the prickling within your skin starts up once again. Thanks Mal.
        *choice
            #Blandly downplay my condition.
                *set doubt_wyrd +5
                "Yeah, it does this sometimes," you say. While true, that doesn't exactly answer the question. Mal peers closely at you, but you've no eyes nor face to give you away.
                
                "Fair enough," they eventually respond. "Get some rest."
                
            #Stonewall.
                *set doubt_wyrd +10
                "It's fine," you say. Mal tilts their head to the side, awaiting elaboration that you don't give.
                
                They eye you, and then eventually just shrug. "If that's how you're gonna play it."
            #Invent an excuse.            
                "Nothing to worry about. I'm just tired. Starts getting harder to hold it all together, you know?" @{(subterfuge > 34) You don't even have to feign fatigue.|You try to keep your tone casual.}
          
                *if subterfuge > 34
                    "Ohh, yeah. I getcha." Mal nods understandingly. "Been there. Get some rest."
                    
                    Wriggled your way out.
                    
                *else
                    *set doubt_wyrd +10
                    Maybe too casual. A sinking feeling sets in as Mal slowly tilts their head. "Tired. Alright."
                    
                    You swallow and nod. Mal regards you a little longer, and then shrugs.
                    
                    Would be nice to think that'll be the end of it.
                
            *selectable_if (wyrdstuff != 2) #@{(wyrdstuff = 2) I'm hardly going to tell them anything after that spat.|Admit I've got a problem with my powers.}
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
                *set doubt_wyrd + 10
                *set doctormal 4
                The words don't come easily. The impulse to keep your mouth shut is deeply ingrained. If anyone finds out you're flaunting Coven secrets, even obliquely… "No. I'm not."
                
                "Mm. Thought as much. Sec." They disappear through to another room, then return holding some kind of spring-loaded syringe. They hand the injector over, and you're forced to quash a swell of unease before accepting it.
                
                *goto gingerlyholding
        
    *else
        "By the way, you're looking kind of banged up," Mallory adds. "Think I've got some ice packs around here if you want."
        
        *choice
            #@{(wyrdstuff = 2) Olive branch? Fine.|Can't hurt.}
                *if expressive < 40
                    You nod.
                    
                *else
                    "Yeah sure."
                    
                Mal bobs their head, disappearing briefly to retrieve a green medical box. They pull out a couple of squishy square packs and hand them to you. "Enjoy. Just crack them and they'll go cold."
                
                The chill is a relief on your numerous bruises. Mal grins at you, bows, and leaves you to it.
            #I'm fine.
                @{(expressive < 40) You shake your head.|"Don't need it."}
                
                "Suit yourself then." They shrug and leave you to your own devices.

*label offmalgoes
*page_break Off they go.

Your attention wanders briefly around the hideout, naturally settling on Kay and Teddie over by the kitchen area. Kay's crouching down while Teddie explores the structure of the bones protruding from his skin. Without thinking, you drift a few steps in their direction.

"Teddie, have you seen my meds?" Kay asks, rooting through a small overnight bag.

"Check the inside zipper." Teddie suddenly looks dead at you, speaking without breaking eye contact. "$!{aka2}'s here."

*if ((rel_kay < 40) or (routeout = 4))
    "Yeah?" Kay glances up at you. Her hands shift, holding the bag shut. "What's up?" Her eyes are guarded, her bearing tense.
    
    You know a 'go away' posture when you see it. @{(routeout = 4) Probably still mad at you for the 'climbing out of the hole without them' thing.|Must be something too personal to discuss in front of a… is colleague the right term? Point is, you aren't friends.} "Nothing. Just trying to cool my head."
    
    "Makes sense." She goes quiet, and faced with both of their stares, you raise your hand in acknowledgement and withdraw to the couches. They resume talking not long afterwards, and you try to tune them out, tipping back your head and closing your eyes. Rest sounds good.
    
    *goto tooshortbreak

*else
    *if (cis)
        "Yeah? It's fine," Kay replies, tugging the bag open further with both hands in search of the zipper. "$!{mc_he}@{mc_singular 's|re} cool."

        @{(rel_teddie < 25) "Disagree," says Teddie, staring a hole through you.|"Your call." Teddie shrugs.}
        
        "Urgh, not in here either," Kay groans, turning her bag over and over. "Where are you hiding, lil meds?"
        
        Teddie's narrowed-eye glaring [i]dares[/i] you to speak.
        *if rel_teddie < 0
            *set rel_teddie 10
            
        *else
            *set rel_teddie %+ 10
        *choice
            #Apologise for intruding.
                *set rel_kay %+ 5
                "Sorry, didn't mean to butt in."
                
                "What? No, not at all." Kay glances up at you, smiles, then continues frowning into her bag.
                
                "Go back in the main pocket," Teddie says, coming up on thirty seconds without blinking.
                
                "I already" — Kay pulls out a pill bottle — "oh. Huh."
                
                Teddie snorts. "Every time."
                
                "Shut it." Kay sits back onto the floor with a sigh, then raises the bottle, winking at you. "Delicious estrogen."
                
                *goto ohkay
            #Ask what the meds are for.
                *set rel_kay %+ 5
                "Are you sick?"
                
                Kay and Teddie exchange glances. You're struck instantly with dread, the certainty that you've crossed some unseen, unspoken line.
        
                …Hold on, Teddie's [i]smiling.[/i]
        
                Kay cracks a grin before breaking into soft giggles. Teddie's smile broadens, but he turns his head away, hiding it.
        
                @{(expressive > 55) "Want to let me in on the joke here?" you ask, looking between them both.|"Uh…" You're missing the joke here.}
        
                "Yeah, I've got testosterone poisoning." Kay's expression is mischievous.
                
                *label ohkay
                Ohhhhhhhh.
                *label ohkay2
                *choice
                    #Thank her for telling me: coming out must be daunting.
                        "I'm flattered you'd trust me with this," you say, giving her a smile. "Glad I'm cool enough to earn it."
                        
                        Kay's cheeks redden. "It's not that big of a deal, $!{aka}."
                        
                    #I ask if she's been on hormones long.
                        "So, you're on replacement therapy? Is that recent, or…?"
                        
                        Kay shakes her head. "Started in my teens. There were some concerns it'd react weird with my" — she gestures vaguely at her horns and fluff — "but I got the all clear pretty fast. Not as fast as I [i]wanted[/i] but…" she shrugs. "In the past."
                        
                    #Demonstrate understanding by mentioning my own gender identity.
                        "I'm cisgender," you say, a touch proudly. Remembered that one from chats with Prii.
                        
                        Kay smothers a laugh in her hand. "You sure are." Dropping her hand, she smiles at you brightly. "Like, genuinely though, good on you for being comfortable with the terms."
                        
                    #Check that I haven't made her uncomfortable at any point.
                        "I haven't bothered you at all, have I?" Inadvertently offending her is the last thing you'd want.
                        
                        Kay looks surprised. "Nothing like that! If you had, I probably wouldn't be telling you this."
                        
                        There's a relief. 
                        
                    #Nod. Alright then. 
                        Fair enough. You don't really have anything to say about that.
                    
                        Kay's face shades towards trepidation, then gradually relaxes.
                    
                "Dion and Mallory don't know. $!{wname} does," Teddie breaks in. You suspect a dire warning is imminent, but Kay talks across him before he can continue.
                
                *label teddiebreaksin
                "Yeah, but I'm gonna say something soon. Besides, Mal's Mal, and Dion's like super close with them, so you know they're both gonna be fine about it."
                
                "Just making sure ${mc_he} @{mc_singular knows|know} the deal."
                
                Kay thumps him lightly on the arm. "I know, you're looking out for me." She grins. "And hey, every girl needs a—"
                
                "Call me your gay best friend and I'm ramming your horns into the wall."

                "—real good pal to have their back!"
                *choice
                    *selectable_if (not (sexualitytalk_teddie)) #...I guess he kind of just came out to me too, huh?
                        Now, is that a sign of trust or does he simply not care?
                        
                        @{(rel_teddie < 25) …Almost definitely the latter.|It's Teddie, could go either way.}
                        
                        *goto teddiecompatible
                    *selectable_if (not (sexualitytalk_teddie)) #"You're gay?"
                        "As sunshine," Teddie says it so utterly deadpan that a laugh startles out of you. A slow smile spreads onto his face, and you realise that was entirely deliberate.
                        
                        Turns out the guy [i]does[/i] have a sense of humour.
                        
                        *label teddiecompatible
                        *if (not (compatible_teddie))
                            @{interest_teddie Good thing he brought this up before you said anything awkward, huh?|Well, it's good to know.}
                            
                        *else
                            @{interest_teddie You ignore the small corner of your mind enthusing over the confirmation of your compatibility.|Well, it's good to know.}
                            
                    #Commiserate with Teddie over being the queer friend.
                        *if rel_teddie < 0
                            *set rel_teddie 10
                            
                        *else
                            *set rel_teddie %+ 7
                        "I've been there too."
                        
                        Teddie seems taken aback to be addressed. "S'fine." He glances at Kay and half-smiles. "She's just a brat."
                        
                        She presses a hand to her chest. "Ow, alright."
                        
                        Your own smile is tempered by a pang of longing. That was one of the neat things about AdVenture; you all had your queerness in common. It didn't matter if the particulars were different, there was a shared bond.
                        
                    #"I doubt Dion would appreciate you ruining the décor."
                        "Yeah, Teddie, think of the insurance premiums!"
                        
                        He snorts. "Sure. We definitely have those."
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) You put on an over-enthusiastic voice. "Remember, when villains come to town, you've got a hero in Riviera-Brown!"|"Imagine getting caught because you claimed on heroes raiding your hideout," you muse.}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) Kay groan laughs. "I haven't thought about that oldass commercial in years, and now the stupid jingle's gonna be stuck in my head. Thanks, $!{aka}."|"That's happened before, pretty sure," says Kay. "This villain's car got totalled and he tried to take it to the garage, and it turned out a hero worked there for their day job."}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) You wink. "You're welcome."|Teddie makes a small noise of consternation. "I've told you that story is fake. A villain got caught because their car got trashed and the cops found ID in the wreck. People just made up that other bullshit." }
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) "They're just RB Insurance now," says Teddie. "Had to rebrand when their execs got caught bribing masks to fight around uninsured buildings."|"Such a killjoy," Kay sighs. Teddie catches your eye and then rolls his own. Huh. Is he warming up to you?}
                        
                        @{(expressive > 55) Scumbag insurers? Some things never change.|} 
                        
                    #I'm a little envious of their connection.
                        The relaxed ease they have with one another reminds you of what you've lost. You and @{bestie Beth|Prii|Shauna|Grant|DUMMY} were like that.
                        
                        *if bestie = 2
                            Prii… it's impossible to think about them without that horrible spectre leering into your memories, sending you back to that cell.
                            
                        *elseif bestie =1
                            @{ephalanx Beth. Who's still alive. Who's a hero and a Hound. Who you fought. Fuck.|Beth... where is she now?}
                            
                        *else
                            @{(bestie = 3) It's weird to think about Shauna in the context of a bunch of supervillains, but she'd have liked Kay and Wil, you think.|You get lost a moment, imagining the chaotic energy Grant and Mal would bring to a conversation. Oh man, and Teddie would have hated him.}
                            
                *set gendertalk_kay true
                *set sexualitytalk_teddie true
                *if (not (compatible_teddie))
                     *set romance_teddie 1
                     *set interest_teddie false
                     *set flirt_teddie 0
                
                There's a lull in the conversation while Kay takes her meds and Teddie, frowning, starts to poke again at sections of exposed bone.
                
                *choice
                    *if (aro != 4) #Kay's trust is stirring emotions of a kind I don't care to admit. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                        *set interest_kay true
                        *set flirt_kay +1
                        She's a sweet person, being so open, taking that leap of faith. Courageous, too. Nothing's forcing her to tell you about herself, and she's doing it anyway.
                        
                        *label certainwarmth
                        A certain warmth has settled in your chest, @{(aro = 3) and you're already fending off the urge to drop a flirtatious overture or two|one you know has potential to take root and sprout into greater feelings. Greater, oh-so-complicated feelings.}
                        
                        *label deepandquiet
                        You take a deep and quiet breath, nudging your emotions into the background. It's been a long night. You can't trust yourself when you're this tired.
                        
                    *if ((not (cis)) and (aro !=4)) #Finding more common ground with Kay isn't making this crush any better. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                        @{interest_kay You've been nursing more-than-just-teammate feelings for Kay regardless, but a fresh point of connection only deepens the emotions.|Wait. Shit. Did you really just think that? Are you crushing on her? Dammit.}
                        
                        *set interest_kay true
                        *set flirt_kay +1
                        
                        *goto certainwarmth
                    *if ((aro != 4) and (romance_teddie !=1)) #@{t_teddie I suddenly catch myself daydreaming about Teddie like some kind of idiot.|The more I get to know Teddie, the more I'm drawn to him.} @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
                        He's trusting you, despite being so protective of Kay. @{t_teddie You picture him smiling and moving in close. There's that unusually soft look in his eyes as you share his presence and—Good fucking grief why are you like this? Apparently, one civil conversation is enough to make you forget he's an abrasive jackass and start mooning after him like a teenager with their first crush. Get it together, $!{forename}.|It's a vulnerability, the first of its kind. Perhaps the very beginnings of letting you in past his walls. Hard to be sure.}
                        
                        @{(rel_teddie < 30) Can't forget you aren't on the greatest terms with the guy. Probably shouldn't get your hopes up. Or otherwise, get ready to do a lot of work digging yourself out of the hole. |You think he—maybe [i]likes[/i] you is too strong a term, but he's streets ahead from how he treated you when you first met. Hopefully, you can nurture that growing closeness.}
                        
                        Surprise surprise, Teddie's making things complicated.
                        
                        *goto deepandquiet
                    #Take a closer look at Teddie's growths.
                        Everywhere the bones have broken through Teddie's skin, the surrounding flesh is both ragged and puckered, and thin pink lines that could be scarring crisscross his body. it occurs to you that you've never seen a trace of blood on him, despite what should be various open wounds. His power must prevent the growths from actually injuring him.
                        
                        Though, looking at the tight grimace he wears while worrying at his arm, it's clear that not causing injury is rather different from painless.
                        
                        Teddie's eyes shift and he catches you looking. Immediately releasing his grip on the angular spur, he scowls and averts his gaze, closing off completely.
                        
                    #Inspect Kay's horns and woolly hair.
                        After the night's exertions Kay's hair is damp with sweat and sticking out at all kinds of odd angles, disrupting its usual careful framing around her horns. It's only now that you're seeing the grey-white tufts all askew that it you begin to understand what an ordeal wrangling her mop under control must be. @{natural You've got experience managing unruly hair yourself, and although the texture of Kay's looks very different to your own, you can picture the struggles of maintaining it.|That tight, woolly mass looks like the kind of place that hairbrushes go to die.}
                        
                        The horns are on another level, almost impossible to hide. You suspect most attempts would only call attention to them, or else make Kay look incredibly suspicious to anyone with eyes. Even with your own share of challenges, you don't envy so blatant a signal of parahumanity.
                        
                        Kay's eyes flick up and she catches you looking. Her hand immediately and self-consciously goes up to her horns, and you avert your gaze, feeling vaguely guilty.
                        
                    #Keep my eyes to myself.
                        You wouldn't want those two gawking at @{feature your lifeless hair;|those unnatural eyes of yours;|the markings on your shoulders;|your twisted abdominal decoration;} you mind your own business until Kay's finishes washing the meds down with water.
                        
                        She catches your eye and winks. "Love me some girl candy." @{interest_kay Is it your imagination, or did she say that with a certain suggestive inflection?|}
                        
                In any case, it seems like your immediate future is going to involve waiting on tenterhooks for the others to get back.
                
                If they get back.
                *choice
                    #Hang out with Teddie and Kay to decompress.
                        You settle in alongside them. @{(expressive < 40) Kay looks surprised and pleased to get you out of your shell.|Kay looks happy for the company.} @{po_teddie Teddie is less thrilled, but doesn't complain.|Teddie is indifferent, which in your books translates to positive.}
                        
                        *set expressive %+ 7
                        It's more relaxing than it should be to sit and chat with the pair of them, but then common ground breeds ease and familiarity. How did Kay put it the other day? You're all in team weird body; each of your powers have messed with you. Some experiences are shared. Some defences don't need to be raised.
                        
                        …Letting yourself indulge in this is a bad idea. Trust can't exist, not with Hypothesis's hand lingering upon your shoulder.
                        
                        You fade out of the conversation and excuse yourself.
                        
                    #Ask about their experiences in the facility.
                        "What happened with you guys while we were underground?" You still haven't had the chance to catch up about anything.
                        
                        "Don't want to talk about it," Teddie grunts.
                        
                        Kay's face clouds over and she shakes her head. "Sorry, $!{aka}. Another time maybe? It's—there's a lot."
                        
                        A stone-cold conversation killer. You wonder if they ran into anything like your encounter.
                        
                        You make yourself scarce.
                        
                    #Go somewhere quiet and lay down.
                        You excuse yourself. @{(expressive > 50) On another evening, the promise of company may have tempted you to stay, but you're far too exhausted to socialise further.|Your social batteries aren't the greatest on a good day, and tonight has exhausted them and then some.}
                        
                        *set expressive %- 7
                        
                *goto tooshortbreak       
            #Marvel that she's pulling off all these stunts while ill.
                *set expressive %+ 10
                *set rel_kay %+ 5
                "If you've been sick these last couple missions, then you must be a force of nature healthy."
                
                Kay bursts out into full throated laughter before clapping her hands to her mouth, looking deeply embarrassed.
                
                Baffled, you look between her and Teddie, and have to double take as you realise that Teddie's [i]smirking[/i].
                
                "Not… not that kind of meds, $!{aka}," Kay manages, valiantly struggling against further fits of laughter. "It's estrogen."
                
                Ah. Heat rushes to your face.
                
                Mm. Well. This one's going into the album of embarrassing moments for your brain to replay at 3am.
                
                *goto ohkay2
            #Staring match.
                *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                You don't back down, meeting Teddie's eyes with your own hard stare.
                
                He straightens to full height and intensifies his glower.
                
                Twenty full seconds of intense glaring go by, and then an exasperated raspberry startles you both out of it.
                
                Kay, of course, is the culprit, and she makes a show of rolling her eyes as soon as she's sure she has your attention. "You two are ridiculous."
                
                You and Teddie exchange glances, there's an ever-so-slight, ever-so-sheepish smile on his face.
                
                "Did you find it?" you ask her.
                
                "Changing the subject, huh?" Kay jibes, then grins, holding up a pill bottle. "Yeah. Delicious estrogen."
                
                *goto ohkay
            #I have no idea what to say.
                *set rel_teddie %+ 5
                Nothing it is!
                
                You keep your mouth shut as Kay continues to rummage, maintaining a running commentary all the while. With glacial speed, Teddie's accusing expression softens. He gives you the tiniest of nods.
                
                "Aha!" Kay announces, holding aloft a bottle of pills. "Delicious estrogen."
                
                *goto ohkay
    
    *else
        "Yeah? It's fine," Kay replies, tugging the bag open further with both hands in search of the zipper. "I'm pretty sure ${mc_he} @{mc_singular gets|get} it."

        "Why?"

        Kay breaks off her search to look at you, then Teddie. She shrugs. "I dunno. Vibes." You tilt your head in question, and she continues. "Y'know, traded in your gender for the cool new model. Those vibes."
        
        Well, there you go. Just as you've been picking up on little things—her self-consciousness around her voice and laugh—and trying to figure her out, Kay's been doing the same to you. The good old fashioned 'is this person queer or am I projecting?' dance.
        
        Regardless…
        *set rel_kay %+ 10
        *choice
            #I can safely say I've never heard anyone describe being trans in that way.
                "That's a new one on me," you say, and Kay grins.
                
                "I'm very creative, I know," she boasts, then pauses, studying your face. You recognise the hesitant, questioning look in her eyes; she's made the first vulnerable move, is on tenterhooks for your response.
                
                Leaving her to worry would feel wrong. You give her a slight nod. 
                
                Another grin, this tinged with relief. "Probably kinda ironic to call this a safe space after a long night of doing crime, but it's nice having other people around who understand."
                
                "No arguments here," you reply. On both counts, actually.
                
            #I'm kind of mad I didn't think of it first.
                "Stealing that," you announce.

                "My gender? Get your own," she quips back, grinning.
                
                "Already did," you drawl, and she laughs.
                
                "Yeah, okay, guess I walked into that one."
                
            #There's a hard knot in my stomach, I haven't talked about identity in a while.
                Familiar anxieties about passing and not presenting in the 'right' way bubble up to the surface. You drop your eyes and shuffle your feet.
                
                Kay picks up on your mood instantly. "Sorry, is it a bad subject? I didn't mean to upset you."
                
                "It's okay," you say quietly. "Out of practice, I guess."
                
                Kay's voice stays soft, gentle. "Acknowledge the irony of saying this after a long night of doing crime, but you're in safe company. There's me, @{(wgender ="nonbinary") there's Mal and Wil, I'm sure Dion's cool,|there's Mal, Wil's cool about gender stuff,} and this dork" — she thumps Teddie in the arm, earning a monotone 'ow' — "is just absolutely the best."
                
                Slowly, you nod, though your feelings remain mixed, a complicated tangle. It's hard to rebuild your comfort on the topic. 
                
            #"I wondered, but I didn't want to say anything."
                Kay nods. "Same. Was getting…" she wiggles her fingers. "Signals. Radio trans."
                
                You smile at the pantomime. @{(expressive > 55) "Trans FM, coming at you live with the hottest new takes on gender."|"Glad to share a wavelength, then."}
                
                Kay beams. Teddie snorts. @{(expressive > 55) "Better you DJing than her. Kay's taste in music sucks."|"Wouldn't say that if you knew her taste in music."}
                
                The unprovoked assault on her auditory opinions wipes off Kay's smile. She harrumphs, hands on her hips. "Can it, token cis."
                
                "That's your only defence?" His mouth twitches up. "Proves my point."
                
                You hide a laugh in your hand. It's… nice, being around your kind of people. You hadn't realised—or maybe closed yourself off from—how much you missed it.
                
            *selectable_if ((mc_gender = "Agender") or (mc_gender = "None")) #"More like traded it for a soda and a 50% off coupon."
                A laugh of pure delight bubbles out of Kay. "I guess you don't really do the gender thing, huh?"
                
                You shrug and smile. She grins from ear to ear, and you think you see a slight smile from Teddie, even.
                
                
        *page_break
        At least this is a secret you can share. Diversity win, this supervillain team is@{(wgender = "nonbinary")  over|} fifty percent gender anarchist. 
        
        [i]"Why don't you introduce yourself? You aren't a subject any longer; it's important they all know what to call you." There's a glint in his eye, a flash behind his glasses. "What kind of scientist would I be if I allowed the incorrect labels?"[/i]
        
        You slam that box of memories and lock it tight. That was never about your pronouns; it was a powerplay, a trap. Hypothesis wanted you to call yourself Paradigm, the gender identity— 
        
        What part of 'locked tight' is your brain failing to grasp? You push the thoughts even further into their darkened corner. You aren't letting them, letting [i]him[/i] taint a pleasant, affirming conversation.
        
        The good news is that Teddie's on hand to provide a distraction. Though perhaps that's also part of the bad news. "Dion and Mallory don't know. $!{wname} does," he says. He looks about to deliver a dire warning, but Kay talks across him before he can continue.
        
        *goto teddiebreaksin
    
*label tooshortbreak
Alas, after too short of a break, you find yourself back at the safehouse entrance. Everyone's been taking turns watching for the others, and @{gendertalk_kay after Kay rolled back around to scoop you up, the responsibility now sits with you.|the responsibility has rolled around to you by way of a still-taciturn Kay.} In practice, your posting sees you slumped on a stool dragged through from the kitchen, battling ever-heavier eyelids. You've fully shed your membrane, @{juiceless staving off the hunger for just that little bit longer.|conserving just that little bit more energy.}

*if ((node) or (nodes))
    @{juiceless |A node perches in your lap, curled up like the world's most unsettling cat.}
    
Rapid knocking from without rouses you from your halfway-to-sleeping state. Reluctantly peeling yourself off the stool, you step over to the front door.
*choice
    #Check the peephole.
        *set instinctive %- 5
        You peer into the tiny porthole and are greeted with the sight of a haggard Dion, sans helmet. Hurriedly, you pull open the door.
        
    #Just open it.
        *set instinctive %+ 5
        Throwing the door open wide, you're greeted by a haggard Dion, sans helmet.
        
It takes a second for you to register that in addition to his bare face, your fearless leader is lacking his trademark coat. And pants. And shirt.

Yes, Dion's at the door wearing only boxers and a vest.
*choice
    #What.
        You stare. 
        
        He sighs deeply. "Can I come in, please?"
        
        Too stunned to speak, you stand aside to allow him past.
        
    #"So uh, any particular reason you're half naked?"
        He presses a thumb to his temple and massages. "Don't ask."
        
        You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow.
        
        He gives the smallest, saddest little sigh.
        
    #Pinch the bridge of my nose, then step to the side and let him in.
        *set rel_architect %+ 5
        Gratitude flashes across his face as he enters the safehouse. Sadly for him, the reprieve isn't to last.
        
   
An excited shout precedes Mallory rushing over from the lounge. "Dion! You're—" They stop alongside you, pausing to take in Dion's state of undress. "Missing most of your outfit," they conclude. The relief on their face speedily dissolves into mischief.

Dion groans. "I had to hide my costume to give Surpass the slip. I did get hold of a DPR uniform, but I felt it was too conspicuous to keep wearing."

Mal sputters into laughter. "You stole some dude's clothes?"

Dion turns his helpless gaze upon you, a plea in his eyes.
*choice
    #Throw him to the wolves.
        *set dionstuff 1
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
        "I know we're villains, but swiping a man's pants?" You shake your head. "Truly diabolical."
        
        "I… that's…" Dion falters, groans again, and then buries his face in his hands. "I don't deserve this," he laments.
        
        "Reap what you sow, D," Mal says, grinning triumphantly.
        
        Dion scoffs. "After all the stunts you've pulled, Mallory, you're throwing boulders in a glass house."
        
        Mal's smirk is so wide at this point the top of their head's at risk of falling off. "Well, see, when I do something, that's just expected. When you do something, it's shocking and out of character."
        
        You nod sagely. The logic is sound.
        
        *label dionenergy
        "I don't have the energy for you," @{(dionstuff = 1) Dion says in the tone of a man who has had this argument one time too many.|Dion says, sounding capital D Done.} With a gesture, he raises a barrier from the floor and ejects Mallory from the conversation.
        
        @{(dionstuff = 1) "You can't run from the truuuuth!"|"Take your roast like a maaaaan!"} Mal calls as they're steadily pushed down the hallway.
        
    #Show mercy.
        *set dionstuff 2
        *set rel_architect %+10
        "Hey, if that's what it takes to get out of a tight spot," you reason.
        
        "See, $!{aka2} understands," Dion says, slightly too quickly.
        
        Mallory scoffs. "Yeah yeah, pat each other on the back about your expert strategies all you want, this guy's still been running around town in his underwear."
        
        "Bold words coming from the person who once tried to flirt their way out of a police search."
        
        Mal's jaw hangs open. They look away, rubbing their cheek. "…was hoping you'd forgotten about that."
        
        You never thought you'd see Dion bat his eyelashes, but that's precisely what he does as he launches into a surprisingly good impression of Mallory. "Oh officer, I admire all the brave work you do—"
        
        "Not even what I said! You two are the worst!" Vanquished, Mal bails on the conversation, leaving you and Dion sharing grins.
        
    #@{(mc_health > 1) I'm way too fucking injured for this.|I am way too tired for this.}
        *set dionstuff 3
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 4
        *set rel_architect %+ 4
        "Can you bring this inside? Like, properly? @{(mc_health > 1) I need to sit down."|I'm dog tired."}
        
        *if mc_health > 1
            Mallory looks apologetic for about three seconds before glancing back to Dion and resuming their smirk. "Parading around in your skivvies in front of your wounded teammate, D? For shame."
            
            *goto dionenergy
        *else
            "I'm sure we all are," Dion replies. "Rest sounds good to me."
            
            Mal wags a finger. "Oh no, you're not getting off that easily, D. I'm just getting started—"
            
            *goto dionenergy

@{(dionstuff = 2) He meets your eyes and his expression sobers.|Dion turns to you, the slightest smile slipping through the exasperation and fatigue.} "We'll catch up about the facility in a little while," he tells you. "I need to think."
*choice
    #Ask him what about.
        @{(expressive > 60) "Penny for them?"|"What's on your mind?"}
        
        *label dionquick
        *if doubt_architect > 25
            "Like I said, we'll discuss it later," Dion replies. Is it your imagination, the intensity in his stare?
            
            Regardless, you can tell you aren't getting any answers here, and allow him to walk away.   
            
        *else
            "The Hounds arrived too quickly and in too much force." Dion's brow furrows. @{(alarmlevel > 1) "I know our infiltration wasn't the smoothest, but that|"That} shouldn't happen. Not in the Zone. There's no way they should have beaten the DPR to the scene; it raises questions I dislike."
            
            *label canseewhy
            You nod. "I can see why that'd get you thinking."
            
            "Indeed." Inclining his head in minute acknowledgement, he leaves you be.
        
    #Accept that at face value.
        *if doubt_architect > 25
            *set doubt_architect - 5
            
        "I'll get out of your hair then."
        
        Dion nods. "Don't go too far. Best to debrief while it's all fresh."
        
        You're still on door watch, so it's actually Dion that leaves you. Gratefully, you sink back onto your stool.
        
    #Hazard a guess.
        You reckon it's…
        *choice
            #"About the Hounds?"
                *if doubt_architect > 25
                    "Along those lines, yes," Dion replies. Is it your imagination, the intensity in his stare?
                    
                    Without further elaboration, he walks away and leaves you to your watch.
                    
                    *goto shiftchange
                *else
                    Dion nods. "They shouldn't have shown up so fast, in such force. I don't like it. They shouldn't have beaten the DPR to the scene."
                    
                    *goto canseewhy
            #"About the mist?"
                Dion shakes his head. "That's also a concern, but it's not my focus at the moment."
                
            #"About the DPR?"
                "Sort of," Dion replies. "Moreso when they arrived."
                
            #"About Wil?"
                Dion eyebrows rise. "Wil? what about ${whim}?"
                
                "Oh, ${whe} isn't here yet."
                
                He winces. "Unfortunate. Hopefully ${whe}'s just delayed."
                
                You nod, then continue your enquiry. "If not Wil, then what?"
                
                *goto dionquick
            #"About the team?"
                "Hm?" Dion looks thoughtful, but shakes his head. "No, not that."
                
            #"About your life choices?"
                *set rel_architect %+ 5
                Dion lets out a single 'ha', then shakes his head. "I already had plenty of time to consider what led me to running through the night in my shorts. Trust me."
                
        "In that case, what's @{juiceless eating—" you wince, adjust. "—on your mind?"|eating you?"} 
        
        *goto dionquick
        
*label shiftchange
Teddie relieves you at the door anywhere between five minutes and half an hour later. You're at levels of exhaustion where time's beginning to slip away from you. And you're not even done for the night. As you shamble across the living space, Dion pokes his head around one of the doors. "$!{aka2}? Come see me now."

Called, you must answer.
*page_break Head over.
Dion raises a hand to greet you as you step inside. He's fully dressed now, wearing a baggy sweater and a rumpled pair of shorts; you've never seen him less put together.

…Not that you're one to talk, with your ratty@{(getspiked =2) —not to mention bloodstained—| }work apparel.  

It's your first time in Dion's room, and you allow yourself some curiosity, glancing around while you walk to the refurbished armchair facing Dion, who's perched on the edge of his bed. Truthfully, there isn't much to look at; a short bookcase so bare that the few volumes on its shelves can't stand upright, a faded old rug, and an incredibly well-organised desk against one wall. You get a sudden, surprising surge of painful nostalgia. You miss @{(instinctive < 35) arranging|the clutter of} your desk in your old apartment.

Still finding new wounds after all this time.

Dion gestures to the chair, and you need no second invitation, sinking into its upholstered embrace.

"I appreciate your patience while I got my thoughts in order." Despite his words, Dion looks if anything more troubled than earlier. "I'll try to keep this short. Neither of us wants to be awake much longer."

He can say that again.

*label onlyaglimpse
@{dionbed Dion sighs and rubs at his face, then sits heavily in Mal's vacated seat. He's changed into a baggy sweater and rumpled shorts, and you've never seen him less put together. "So. Regarding the facility. I|"I} only got a glimpse, $!{aka2}, but that room seemed like the real @{dionbed deal. I hope.|deal. "Dion rubs at his face. "I hope} you found something useful, because the rest of us sure didn't."
*choice
    #Rouse myself, and my enthusiasm: let's talk secrets!
        It's a herculean task when you're running on the fumes of fumes. Still, you've a flicker of excitement, just enough to catch a spark. @{dionbed You pull yourself up against the bedframe,|You sit up fully in the armchair,} feeling the faintest surge of energy as the old engine begins firing for what you hope is the last time tonight. You're ready.
        
        A good few seconds into your explanation, you recall you're not actually on the same side.
        
    #Consider a moment: should I hold anything back?
        Dion came upon you mid-search, so you can't pretend you found nothing. Still, there's a whole array of options between 'nothing' and 'everything'; knowing details that he doesn't could be a powerful advantage. On the other hand, your aim is to uncover Dion's goals. Withholding information that could advance those goals is counterproductive. Besides, play your cards correctly and you could glean insights from the telling.
        
@{(alarmlevel < 3) "I dug up a fair bit. I think you'll be interested to hear it."|"I didn't get as much as I would have liked."} You pause. @{(alarmlevel < 3) "Some of it is…|"And what I do have is…} pretty weird."

Dion inclines his head attentively.

"After hearing those voices, I also saw a couple of, well, shades. I couldn't make out any details," you say, avoiding making mention of Not-Prii. Too personal, too painful.

"Shades…" Dion murmurs. "They spoke?"

You nod. "Argued about a mission of some kind, then vanished. They called each other Carnival and Knight. Mask names, I figured."

"You're half right." Dion laces his hands. "Carnival is one of the MIA parahumans. A telepath and telekinetic. As for Knight, while there are a number of masks using the name in whole or in part, none of them fit our timeline."
*page_break Get into the details.
*if (shades)
    "Well, whoever Knight was, I'm pretty sure they wound up dead," you continue. "The shades reappeared. Carnival was angry about something they'd seen, Knight threatened to step in, and they fought. Carnival won."
    
    "Dissension in the ranks," Dion muses. "It adds up with Phalanx switching sides and Carnival going missing." His frown deepens, but he stops talking. In the silence, you remember an additional detail; the phantom Knight used Carnival's real name.
    *choice
        #Tell Dion: maybe it'll be relevant?
            *set archa 1
            *set archinfo +1
            If Carnival is missing in action, then perhaps a clue to her unmasked identity will be of use.
            
            "I don't know if this matters, but Knight called Carnival 'Alice' too." 
            
            Dion's poker face cracks, his expression turning pained.  "Any information is good information." His voice is level, the emotion quickly buttoned up, but you know what you saw; Carnival's name means something to him.
            
            Well then. You file that away and move on.
            
        #I don't see what that has to do with anything.
            So Carnival's name is Alice. And? How's the first name of a random missing mask going to get you anywhere?
            
            Down a rabbit hole, maybe. You move on. 
            
*if (weirdblood)
    @{shades "Right where Knight fell, there|"There} was a big patch of @{(knowledge > 40) cyberfluid|this weird blue blood} trailing down the wall," you add.
    
    @{(knowledge > 40) "Cyberfluid," Dion repeats grimly.|"That sounds like cyberfluid. Synthetic blood for cybernetics. Did it have a metallic sheen?" You nod, and Dion does the same. "Cyberfluid," he confirms, stroking his beard.} "None of the DPR team were augments. If this Knight was accompanying the heroes off the books, there's a good chance they were an Agent."
    
    *gosub agentreact

*if (hatch)
    "Aside from that, I found a hatch in the floor. I couldn't work out how to open it up, but it looked important."
    
    Dion nods incrementally. "That's unfortunate, but interesting to know the facility went even further than what we saw. Quite the operation."
    
*if (photo)
    "I've got this photo too," you tell Dion, digging the half-photograph from your pocket and passing it over.
    
    He studies it, eyes narrowed. After a minute, he hands the photo back. "It was already torn up?" he asks. You nod confirmation and he tips back his head, considering. "Hm. Perhaps someone took a keepsake. Either way, it's unsettling to think that there were kids there at some point."
    
    No kidding.

*if (logs)
    Finally, there's probably the most comprehensive piece of evidence. "I read through some old security logs. I couldn't make sense of all of it, though."
    
    "Security logs?" Dion tilts his head. "Audio? Video?"
    
    "Mostly text, one video file." You describe everything you remember from the logs, including the shift in format of the user IDs. Dion listens silently, brow creased in thought.
    
    As you describe the pair of murders you watched unfold, Dion grimaces. "Cleaning up loose ends. Just the kind of work the DPR doesn't want people to see." The venom in his voice is a hint of that same fury he showed yesterday. @{agentreact "That settles it; they had an Agent onsite."|"That's something they'd assign to an Agent."}
    
    *gosub agentreact
    
Part of you is thinking of the old days. All this is just the kind of enticing mystery that you and AdVenture would have looked into. Though given the players at the table, you'd all be just as out of your depth as you were on that night.

@{ephalanx Except Beth.|}

Regardless, you've told him everything. Almost.
*temp noconfide false
*choice
    #Bring up Prii. Not-Prii.
        *if doubt_architect > 0
            *set doubt_architect - 5
        *set rel_architect %+ 10
        *set confide 2
        Why Dion, of everyone?
        *choice
            #I actually kind of like the guy.
                You [i]shouldn't[/i], but you shouldn't a lot of things. You like him enough for it to matter.
                
            #He's level-headed, and I need that.
                If anyone's going to hear you out in a calm, measured manner, it's Dion.
                
            #The mission comes ahead of my emotions.
                *set defiance -1
                You can't forget that there's a job to do. Leaving a stone unturned means you're falling short.
                
            #If this stays on my chest any longer, I think I'll burst.
                Dion's right here, and you can't keep what you saw in your head. You can't.
                
        "One more thing. I left it for last because…" you shrug helplessly. "You'll see."
        
        Dion regards you thoughtfully. "I'm listening."
        
        *goto confiding2
                
    #No. That's private.
        *set noconfide true
        *label confidesplit
        "That's everything," you say.

        "Thanks, $!{aka2}." Dion slowly shakes his head. "We still know too little. Not that I don't appreciate what you found." He sighs, pressing fingers to his forehead. "I need to sleep. We all do. Goodnight."
        
        *if ((collapsezone) or (hurtbysurpass))
            He rises, gives you a fractional nod, and then leaves you to your rest.
            
            You aren't alone long; Mallory slips into the room mere seconds after Dion leaves. You don't hear either of them acknowledge the other. Mal comes back to your bedside. "If it's alright, I'd like to keep close. Just in case, you know?" Their tone is apologetic. You don't have the energy to argue.
            
            *if (noconfide)
                *goto finalising
            
            *else
                But perhaps just enough for one more conversation.
                *goto wannatalkto   
        *else
            You nod to him and then make your exit.
            
            *if (noconfide)
                Tonight's finally, [i]finally[/i] over. You shamble through to the space now loosely designated as your room, and collapse onto the thin mattress.
            
                *goto finalising
            *else
                Back in the main area of the safehouse, you silently turn the options over in your head.
                
                *label wannatalkto
                
                @{dionbed Presuming Mal lets you out of bed, you|You} want to talk to…
                *choice
                    #@{dionbed Actually, it's Mal themself.|Mallory.}
                        *set confide 3
                        *set rel_wyrd %+ 10
                        @{dionbed Convenient.|}
                        
                        @{dionbed You scoot back in bed, resting yourself fully upright. Mal glances curiously at you. "…You know you can go back to sleep now, yeah? I'm not letting Dion bug you again."|A swift glance around the safehouse, and you spot Mal in the living area, slouched almost horizontal onto a couch. You head on over, and they greet you with a tired smile as you slump down opposite them. "Dion finally left you alone, huh?"}
                        
                        @{dionbed You shake your head slowly. Mal tilts their head in question.|You nod wearily, scanning your surroundings further. Nobody else around; you have privacy. Mal tilts their head. "The others went to bed. Wil got back while you were in there."}
                        
                        @{dionbed |That would be good news, were you less preoccupied.}
                        
                        *goto confiding
                    #Wil.
                        *set rel_wil %+ 10
                        *set confide 4
                        @{dionbed Surely you were out for long enough for ${whim} to return. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about.|Last you checked, ${whe} still hadn't returned. If you want to talk to ${whim}, there's nothing to do but wait and hope. And try not to think about the alternative.}
                        
                        @{dionbed You look over at Mal. "Did Wil get back?"|You return to the safehouse entrance and relieve Teddie, whose acknowledgement amounts to a sleepy grunt.}
                        
                        @{dionbed "Mm? Oh, yeah, ${whe}'s here. Passed out on the couch last I looked."|Ten tense minutes tick by, and then there's a knock. You leap up with energy you didn't know you still had and open the door. Lo and behold, it's Wil. $!{whe} looks more ${whis} namesake than ever, with deep black smudges beneath ${whis} eyes and sweat and dirt streaking ${whis} face, but very much alive and intact.}
                        
                        *if (dionbed)
                            "It alright for me to go see ${whim}?" you venture.
                            
                            *gosub plslemmeoutpls
                            
                            You wander through to the other room. As promised, Wil's draped across a couch, deep black smudges beneath ${whis} eyes making ${whim} look more ${whis} namesake than ever. Nobody else is in sight. You'll have some welcome privacy.
                            *goto sightforsore
                        *else
                            *label sightforsore
                            @{(poutcome = 1) A complicated cocktail of relief and guilt surges through you. $!{whe} was fine without your help after all. But it was still without your help.|Relief surges through you. Hard to say how much stems from ${whim} being all right and how much from having someone to talk to.} @{dionbed $!{whe}'s awake, it turns out, lifting ${whis} head at your approach and sitting up.|}
                            
                            *if romance_wil > 1
                                "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Miss me?" Wil musters an exhausted smile.
                                
                                "Yes," you say, without a second thought.
                                
                                "Same." @{dionbed $!{whis} brow furrows. "I heard you were hurt. Are you okay? Should you even be up?"|$!{whe} fiddles with a piercing. "Was a little worried, to be honest."}     
                               
                            *else
                                @{dionbed "Well, hi. Are you supposed to be up? I heard you were hurt."|"Good to see you, $!{aka}. Wasn't sure what to expect when I got back."}
                                
                            @{dionbed "I've got permission," you reply, then walk over and slump onto the opposite couch. You blink bleary eyes. "I'm—well. I'm alive, at least."|"We're all okay. You're the last one home."}
                            
                            @{dionbed Wil doesn't look wholly satisfied by that answer. "Not a great bar, $!{aka}."|"Now that's a relief," Wil breathes. You step back to allow ${whim} inside, then lead ${whim} over to the couch area. Nobody else is around. You'll have some welcome privacy.}
                            
                            @{dionbed You shrug. Look|You motion for Wil to sit and ${whe} does so, giving you a curious glance. You look} away. Look back. Away again.
                            
                            *goto confiding
                            
                    #Kay.
                        *set confide 5
                        *set rel_kay %+ 10
                        
                        *if (dionbed)
                            *label youventure
                            You glance at Mal, already sliding into a long slouch in the bedside chair. "It alright if I go talk to someone?" you venture.
                            
                            *gosub plslemmeoutpls
                        
                        *label goodgriefIhaveterriblestructure
                        @{dionbed Wandering through to the other room, you|You take a look around the room and} see @{(confide = 5) Kay|Teddie} sitting in the living area, @{(confide = 5) almost horizontal. She glances up|staring up at the ceiling. His eyes drop to you} as you walk over.
                        
                        *if confide = 5
                            "$!{aka}." Kay waves a listless hand. There's a limit even to her energy it seems. @{dionbed "You sure you should be out of bed? You're hurt."|"Don't worry about watch duty. Wil just got back."}
                            
                            @{dionbed "Mal said I could," you reply, walking over and slumping onto the couch opposite her. You blink bleary eyes. "I'm—well. I'm alive, at least."|You nod. Everyone's okay, and that's good, but you're more preoccupied with scanning the room. Nobody else around; you'll have privacy. Satisfied, you slump onto the couch opposite her.}
                            
                            @{dionbed She makes a face. "That's less encouraging than you think, $!{aka}…"|Kay searches your face a moment, sensing your distraction.}
                            
                            *label looklookback
                            @{dionbed You shrug, scanning around the room. Nobody else is here. You'll have some welcome privacy. |}You look away. Look back. Away again.
                            
                            *goto confiding
                        *else
                            "Mrm," Teddie—is 'says' the right word?—emotes. A couple of seconds pass before he musters actual speech. @{dionbed "Why are you up? You're hurt."|"Watch is covered. Wil just got back."}
                            
                            @{dionbed "Mal said I could," you reply, walking over and slumping onto the couch opposite him. You blink bleary eyes. "I'm—well. I'm alive, at least."|You nod. Everyone's okay, and that's good, but you're more preoccupied with scanning the room. Nobody else around; you'll have privacy. Satisfied, you slump onto the couch opposite him.}
                            
                            @{dionbed He snorts. "Low fucking bar, $!{aka}."|He looks at you sharply. "…What? You want something?"}
                            
                            *goto looklookback
                    #@{(rel_teddie > 25) Teddie.|Teddie absolutely does not like me enough to listen.}
                        *set rel_teddie %+ 10
                        *set confide 6
                        
                        *if (dionbed)
                            *goto youventure
                        
                        *else
                            *goto goodgriefIhaveterriblestructure
                    *selectable_if (inform1 < 5) #@{(inform1 < 5) $!{cg}.|$!{cg}'s not an option, not when I kept the mission from her.}
                        *set confide 7
                        *set rel_cg %+ 15
                        *set trust_cg +2
                        
                        *if (dionbed)
                            *label steppingout
                            You glance at Mal, already sliding into a long slouch in the bedside chair. "Can I step out a second?"
                            
                            They make a face. "You shouldn't be out of bed."
                            
                            "Just need some air."
                            
                            Mal seems to weigh up arguing, but instead caves. "Don't go far."
                            
                            Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you make your way outside. Cold air bites at you as you walk to the end of the driveway. Far enough from prying ears, you hope.
                            
                            *if confide = 8
                                *goto toalistair
                        
                        @{dionbed You|So decided, you slip quietly from the safehouse. Outside, the cold air bites at you as you walk to the end of the driveway. Far enough from prying ears, you hope. Phone in hand, you} fire off a text@{cg_dislike , reflecting that you must be close to rock bottom if you're turning to [i]her[[/i] for support.|.}
                
                        [i]Got a minute?[/i]

                        You haven't even lowered your phone when it beeps.

                        [i]what's up?[/i]
                        
                        Your chest tightens. @{connectcg You rejected the chance to bond with her yesterday. Now, it feels like she might be the only person who can understand.|}

                        *choice
                            #Tell her I need somebody to talk to.
                                [i]just need to talk[/i]

                                [i]in general[/i] you add.

                            #Obliquely mention work.
                                [i]things were weirder than expected[/i]

                                [i]could use an ear[/i]

                            #Say it's been a rough night.
                                You send a text to that effect and wait.

                        A few seconds tick by. More than for the initial reply. The response still comes faster than you expected.

                        [i]alright. call me.[/i]

                        You dial. 

                        Her voice comes through almost before your thumb leaves the button. "Pretty late for a call, $!{aka2}."

                        …Right. It's the middle of the night.

                        "Should be fine if we keep this short," she adds. "Line's good."

                        You decide not to question how she drew that conclusion.
                        *choice
                            #Gratitude spills out of me.
                                "$!{cg}? Thanks for picking up."

                                "…sure." A pause. "This shit's important, right? So—yeah. Sure. Don't mention it."

                                "I mean it, though."

                                @{cg_dislike "Okay, well now I know something's up. What's got you all rattled?"|"So do I." She pauses. "What's going on, $!{aka2}?"}

                            #Now that I've made the call, I'm struggling to find words. 
                                "I… great. That's great."

                                A long silence.

                                "You good over there?" $!{cg} asks.

                                "I don't know."

                                "Di—$!{aka2}. What's going on?"
                                
                            *selectable_if (sleepask) #"So what was that the other day about you getting enough sleep?"
                                A pause.

                                "Fuck you, $!{aka2}," $!{cg} replies. "You can't message at four in the morning and then call me out for being awake."

                                "I can when you answered inside five seconds."

                                Another pause. During the silence your phone beeps. You check it, finding a new text from $!{cg}.

                                The message opens to a close range picture of her hand, middle finger extended.

                                "Seriously?" you say, putting the phone back to your ear.

                                "Damn right. Now what's going on?"
                                
                        As you consider how to begin, a phantom hand takes hold of your heart and slowly begins to twist. You've never discussed… before with $!{cg}. It's always been business. It's always been Coven. Is she really someone you can bring yourself to confide in? @{talk_cg One 'normal' conversation doesn't make her a friend. Or even an ally.|You could barely speak to her yesterday. Why is today any different?}
                        
                        *choice
                            #Try to fight through my unease.
                                "I'm—during the job—" you falter. "I saw something—there was something that looked—acted—like someone—"
                                
                                Fuck. Your eyes are swimming.
                                
                                How did you think this would be a good idea?
                                
                            #Of anyone, she should understand this pain.
                                …But that's because she knows your history. She has to.
                                
                                "I saw—there was a… thing. It looked—it acted—like one of my—"
                                
                                Like one of your friends. You know, the ones who died.
                                
                                You're choking, a writhing mass of bile and anguish rising up the back of your throat.
                                
                            #I can't do this.
                                Conflicting emotions strangle you, choke the words into submission.
                                
                                "I saw something—someone. It looked—acted like…"
                                
                                That's all you manage. You can't breathe.
                                
                                
                        "Wait. What do you mean? What—who did you see?"
                        
                        *choice
                            #I falter halfway.
                                "Someone from… from before."
                                
                                $!{cg} goes quiet. "Before what, $!{aka2}?"
                                
                                The answer won't come. Not-Prii smirks in your mind.
                                
                                "Dime? Before what?"
                                
                                "…sorry," you croak, and hang up.
                                
                                *goto shuddershudder
                            #Bitterness overwhelms me.
                                *set defiance +1
                                *set trust_cg +1
                                *set rel_cg %- 5
                                "Take a guess," you spit. "I'll give you a hint. Five years back."
                                
                                @{coven_history Your furious venom even overwhelms the instinctual fear of reprisal.|Even you can't obey forever, can't keep your head down.|This hurts your obedient act, but who gives a damn?} Prii's spectre rubbed their death in your face, rended a whole new tear in a festering wound.
                                
                                "Dime—"
                                
                                "Shut up."
                                
                                You end the call on her.
                                
                                *goto shuddershudder
                            #Avoid the question.
                                "It doesn't matter. Night, $!{cg}."
                                
                                "Dime, hold on—"
                                
                                *goto byegirl
                            #Hang up.
                                "Dime, who did you—"
                                
                                *label byegirl
                                Her voice cuts off as you end the call.
                                
                                *label shuddershudder
                                Your breath shudders and wavers. You hold up a hand, and it's trembling.
                                
                                Why. Why, oh [i]why[/i] the hell did you call [i]her?[/i]
                                
                                You have no answers. You stand in the cold and stare out into the darkness for a long time. 
                                
                                Eventually you drag yourself back inside.
                                
                                *goto finalising
                                
                                    
                    *selectable_if (alinumber = 2) #@{alinumber Even if I wanted to talk to Alistair, I have no way of contacting him.|In the face of all logic, Alistair.|No, I don't regret erasing Alistair's number.|DUMMY}
                        *set confide 8
                        *set rel_alistair %+ 20
                        *set doubt_alistair +5
                        
                        *if (dionbed)
                            *goto steppingout
                        
                        *label toalistair
                        @{dionbed |You slip silently from the safehouse and outdoors, walking to the end of the driveway. Far enough from prying eyes, you hope.} 
                        
                        Hesitation. Confiding any of this to Alistair crosses the line from foolish into out and out insane.

                        If you speak to him, it has to be in the vaguest of terms, stripped bare of almost all detail. Would such a neutered conversation get any of this off your chest?
                        *choice
                            #It might.
                                Only one way to find out.

                            #Probably not.
                                But your phone is already in your hand.

                        You hit call. You get an answer on the fourth ring.

                        "'lo?" says a bleary voice.

                        *if expressive > 65
                            "Hey man. I know this is a little out of the blue, but it's @{aliname $!{aka2}. You know, |}your friend from the shipping container."

                        *else
                            "Um, is this Alistair?"

                            "Speaking, yeah," he murmurs, sounding half asleep.

                            "It's @{aliname $!{aka2}. You know, |}your friend from the shipping container."

                        There's a pause. "For real?" @{(expressive > 65) He sounds marginally more awake.|}

                        "Yeah. @{(expressive > 65) Hope I'm not interrupting anything."|Sorry for calling so randomly."}

                        @{(expressive > 65) "Other than my sleep? Naw, nothing."|"All good. Often call folks in the middle of the night?"}

                        Ohhh shit.

                        You kinda didn't think of that.
                        *choice
                            #"Sorry, I kinda didn't think of that."
                                "I couldn't sleep. I guess I lost track of how late it'd got."

                                Obviously, you have to avoid any implication that you've been abroad tonight. You're already risking him drawing a connection between the midnight mask fight and the unexpected call. May as well hand him an autographed $!{mask} t-shirt at that point.

                                *goto aligood
                            #Come up with an excuse.

                                "My bad, I'm keeping a weird schedule right now."

                                *label aligood
                                "Mmn. All good." There's a strange sound, and you realise he's yawning. "Everything okay? You need a hand?"

                            #Hang up out of embarrassment.
                                Your thumb moves on its own to terminate the call.

                                Obviously he was asleep. It's—you check the time on your phone—almost 4 in the freaking morning. Are you stupid?

                                Your phone rings in your hand, startling you badly enough you almost drop it on the floor.

                                You pick up before you talk yourself out of it.

                                Alistair speaks immediately. "Didn't gotta leave like that. Just surprised me is all. Everything good? You need a hand?"

                            #Make a joke out of it.
                                *if expressive > 45
                                    "You surprise me with pasta, I surprise you with phone calls."

                                    He breathes a soft 'ha'. "Yeah okay."

                                *else
                                    You're blanking.

                                    Why is humour so difficult?

                                    "Still there?"

                                    You concede defeat. "I was hoping I'd come up with a clever one-liner, but I'm empty."

                                    Alistair laughs quietly. "It's fine." To your surprise, he lets the late hour drop entirely. "Everything good? You need a hand?"
                                    
                        You didn't even have to ask. This guy's either a saint or has ulterior motives.
                        
                        And you know which of those is more likely.
                        *choice
                            #Focus on needing company rather than anything more specific.
                                "I just needed to hear someone else's voice. Not a good time to be alone."
                                
                                "Damn." He pauses. "Real sorry to hear that. If you wanna talk, I'll listen."
                                
                                *label maybebadideas
                                "I—maybe." It's all too tempting. All too impossible. "Okay," you eventually say, not meaning it.
                                
                                You think.
                                
                            #Mention my troubles, but keep it general.
                                "It was a rough day. Just… a lot of shit came at me real fast. "
                                
                                "Damn." He pauses. "If you wanna unload any of that, then I'll listen."
                                
                                *goto maybebadideas
                            #Allude vaguely to a sour encounter.
                                "I had a run in with someone I used to know. It didn't go great. Some things got said, and, well, here I am."
                                
                                *if ((aliname) and (not (pseudonym)))
                                    A pause, half a breath too long. "Sounds rough. Sorry to hear it."
                                    
                                    Your stomach clenches with unease. "…did I say something weird?"
                                    
                                    "Huh? Oh. Naw. I'm just sleepy."
                                    
                                    *if (observation < 21)
                                        He doesn't [i]sound[/i] like he's lying. "…right, okay." 
                                        
                                        *label somanylabels
                                        "You wanna talk about it?"
                                        
                                        *goto maybebadideas
                                        
                                    *else
                                        He's a bad liar. Your heartbeat accelerates wildly.
                                        
                                        What is he hiding? "I—you know what, it's late. I should let you rest."
                                        
                                        *label nomoretalkies
                                        "Hey, I didn't mean—"
                                        
                                        "Night, Alistair." You hang up, acid pooling in your stomach. You don't know what that was, but bailing was the one and only option.
                                        
                                        Fuck. [i]Fuck.[/i] Talking to him was a bad idea from the start, and you went and did it anyway.
                                        
                                        Every time, $!{forename}. Every fucking time.
                                        
                                        You thunk your phone against your forehead, eyes screwed up tight.
                                        
                                        Minutes, hours later, you head back inside.
                                        
                                        *goto finalising

                                *else
                                    "Sorry to hear it. Ain't nice when the past comes back around."
                                    
                                    You approximate a laugh. "Can say that again."
                                    
                                    *goto somanylabels
                                    

                        "Doesn't have to be over the phone, neither. Can come to your place if you want."

                        You'd laugh, but you know he's serious. "Dude, it's the middle of the night."

                        "I'm awake. Sounds like you're going through it, and it's not far. Could get there in a half hour."

                        Even if you wanted to go for a bad idea world championship on top of your national bad idea crown and take him up on that, you're not actually where he thinks, so the notion's dead on arrival. Just as well, since obviously there's something about Alistair that overrides your ability to make sensible choices.

                        "You don't need to do that."

                        "Sure, but I'm offering."
                        
                        Stop being so freaking considerate, dammit! "It's fine, seriously. Talking to you is enough."
                        
                        A pause. When he speaks again, it's with renewed warmth. "Aight. If you're sure." If a smile can be audible, then you're certainly hearing one.
                        
                        "Hey, Alistair?"
                        *choice
                            #"Thanks. For not being mad."
                                He doesn't immediately respond. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. "What kinda person gets mad at someone needing help?"
                                
                                You don't have an answer for that. After a few moments pass in silence, Alistair continues.
                                
                                "Can't be there one hundred percent of the time, but if I can help just by listening? That ain't nothing. You're not effort."
                                
                                *label sobsobsob
                                Your throat closes. Suddenly, your eyes are swimming. You only realise you made… some kind of noise when Alistair speaks again.
                                
                                "You okay?"
                                
                                "Yeah, just—I should hit the hay."
                                
                                "Oh. Aight, if you need anything—"
                                
                                "Thanks, night." You end the call, then stand there, staring sightlessly into the darkness.
                                
                                It's some time before you drag yourself back inside.
                                
                                *goto finalising
                            #"Thanks for listening."
                                "Anytime." A brief pause. "Might start getting heated if you make 4am a regular thing. Maybe slide that along a couple hours?"
                                
                                You laugh weakly. "Sorry again."
                                
                                "All good, just playing."
                                
                                "Still…"
                                
                                "Mean it though. You're not effort."
                                
                                *goto sobsobsob
                            #"You're a good guy."
                                "Ah—I'm nothing special." He sounds taken aback.
                                
                                "You're better than a lot of people I know."
                                
                                *label notcrossing
                                "Hope this ain't crossing a line, but I get the feeling that you've had a raw deal on people."
                                
                                *goto sobsobsob
                            #"This helped."
                                "Least I can do. I mean that."
                                
                                "Your 'least' is a lot more than most people."
                                
                                *goto notcrossing
                            *if (not (aliname)) #"My name's $!{aka2}."
                                *set aliname true
                                *set doubt_alistair + 20
                                *set rel_alistair +5
                                *if ((not (pseudonym)) and (nickname))
                                    "Or $!{aka}, if you want."
                                    
                                *if (not (pseudonym))
                                    "$!{aka2}?" he repeats. There's something odd in his voice. Your stomach sinks.
                                    
                                    "Yeah?"
                                    
                                    "Cool, cool. Nice to meetcha properly, $!{aka2}."
                                    
                                    You don't like the slight emphasis he puts on your name. Not in the least.
                                    
                                    "Well. I should let you sleep. See you."
                                    
                                    *goto nomoretalkies
                                    
                                *else
                                    "Now I feel special," Alistair replies good-naturedly. "Nice to meetcha properly, $!{aka2}."
                                    
                                    Something like a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.
                                    
                                    It fades when Alistair speaks again.
                                    
                                    "And hey, you ever need anything, just call. You're not effort."
                                    
                                    *goto sobsobsob
                                    
                    #There's no-one I can bring this to. That's the irony.
                        Of all these people you now know, you can't imagine confiding your experience to a single one.
                
                        Literal supervillains. An almost total stranger whose sole qualification is treating you with basic fucking decency. Or how about someone who works for the guy who [i]caused[/i] everything you'd want to tell?
                        
                        So, this bone-deep ache will have to remain. There will be no reprieve of the pressure pushing against your temples, behind your eyes. You'll endure, because it's all you know.
                        
                        You've been alone a long time, and it's never felt more acute.
                        
                        Perhaps you can escape to the oblivion of sleep. There's a first time for everything.
                        
                        *goto finalising
    #I'm desperate to get this off my chest, but I have somebody else in mind.
        It's like glass lodged in your stomach. Thoughts of your encounter whirl around your head, building to an unstoppable crescendo. The pressure has to vent, or your skull's going to split open.
        
        *goto confidesplit

*label plslemmeoutpls
They heave a sigh. "I'm not gonna stop you if you feel up to it, but don't push yourself, alright?"
                            
You don't think you could push yourself if you tried. You give them a nod, then manoeuvre yourself out of bed. @{(surpass_stomach = 2) Your abdomen twinges painfully, but it's only a momentary pang. The wound is behaving.|A muggy fatigue clings to you like dirt. You feel washed out. Hollow.}

*return
*label confiding

"Is it… can I talk to you about something?" The question feels misshapen. Woefully insufficient.

@{confide DUMMY|DUMMY|Mal continues regarding you, eyes half-lidded. "I'm all ears."|Wil regards you, eyes filled with concern. You don't care for it. "Of course," $!{whe} says, voice soft.|Kay nods firmly. "Absolutely."|Teddie sighs. "Yeah. Sure."|*bug confiding in CG shouldn't lead here|*bug confiding in alistair shouldn't lead here}

*label confiding2
*page_break
*temp wah false
You think back to earlier. The cruel recriminations. That twisted, hateful visage. Prii and not Prii, curling their fingers around the knife in your chest to rend the wound deeper, deeper. @{scan The frigid touch of their fingers.|The heart-wrenching effort to fend off their accusations.}

The reminder of the cell. Of the monster gnawing the flesh from their bones.

You've broken the seal, but how to even begin?
*choice
        #I'm struggling for the right words.
            "I…" you begin. Stop. 

            "In the tunnel…" you try. Stop.

            "Earlier…" Stop.
            
            @{confide DUMMY|Dion watches you, expression slowly shading into a light frown.|Mallory's face is sympathetic, and you almost wish it wasn't.|Wil holds ${whim}self close and contained, ceding all the space to you.|Kay's face is a mixture of worry and anticipation.|Teddie, impassive at first, begins to frown the more you falter.|DUMMY - CG|DUMMY - Alistair}
            
            "Sorry," you mutter, eyes downcast.
            
            *label wetcat
            @{confide DUMMY|"Don't apologise."|"Just take it one thing as a time, $!{aka}."|Wil shakes ${whis} head. "Nothing to apologise for."|"Don't be. If this sucks to talk about, then we don't have to."|"...you're allowed to be upset," says Teddie, much more gently than you've come to expect.|DUMMY - CG|DUMMY - Alistair}
            
        #I give a faltering, disjointed explanation.
            "Down there, I saw—there was—" You stop, exhaling shakily.

            @{confide DUMMY|"Take your time," Dion says quietly.|"It's alright," says Mal. "Go at your own pace."|"Easy, easy," Wil murmurs.|"Go as slow as you need. I'm listening," says Kay.|"Slow down," says Teddie, voice calm rather than harsh.|DUMMY - CG|DUMMY - Alistair}

            You nod, swallow hard. You open your mouth. You can't find the words.
            
            "Fuck," you croak. "I just. Fuck. Sorry"
            
            *goto wetcat
        #It's too much. 
            *set wah true
            "I… fuck. I can't…" Your throat tightens, and then suddenly tears are spilling down your cheeks.
            
            @{confide DUMMY|Dion's eyes flicker, unsure whether to settle on you. "Something happened," he says softly. It's not a question.|"Ah, shit." Mal's at your side in an instant. "Look, I dunno what's up, but if it's fucking you up to talk about it, then don't."|"Whoa, easy, easy," Wil murmurs. $!{whe} shuffles forward on the couch, but hesitates at arm's length, not closing the gap. "You don't have to say anything."|Kay fidgets unhappily, brow creasing. "Hey, hey, hey. Slow it down, slow it down. You don't gotta talk."|Alarm flashes across Teddie's face. "Stop crying." He winces. "I mean. Calm down. It's safe here."|DUMMY - CG|DUMMY - ALISTAIR}
            
            Your squeeze your eyes shut, doing nothing to stem the flow. "I just… s-sorry."
            
            *goto wetcat

The lump in your throat is closer to a boulder. You struggle past it. "I… saw someone I knew. Used to know. They—they died a while back." @{wah You reopen your eyes, but it's to|You} stare ahead, unseeing. Speaking this aloud makes it feel more real. "It looked like them. Had their voice. Knew… things."

@{confide DUMMY|Dion looks away. "...I'm sorry I put you through that." |Mal exhales a long breath. "Wow. Won't pretend to know what that feels like, but either way, I'm sorry."|Wil grimaces. "That's... really awful. I'm sorry, $!{aka}. Nobody deserves that."|Kay inhales sharply. "Oh, fuck. That's—that sounds horrible. I'm sorry."|Teddie watches you, seems to mull your words. "That sucks," he concludes. "Sorry." |DUMMY - CG|DUMMY - Alistair}

@{(confide = 2) He's taking responsibility. How gallant. You listlessly shake your head. That isn't how this works.|The sympathies don't permeate your malaise. Perhaps you did vent the pressure, but now it's lingering around, a dark cloud to smother you.} Talking about Prii was a bad idea, a fresh tear to an old and festering wound.

With you silent, @{confide DUMMY|Dion continues. "I've... suspected that you have a few demons. I think we all do." He pauses. "What you saw, who you saw. It wasn't real, understand? The past can only hurt you if you let it."|Mal continues. "I dunno what all you've gone through, $!{aka2}. You've sure gone through something." They laugh self-consciously. "Several somethings, I'm guessing. Just... remember that's not all of who you are. There's some $!{aka2} in there too."|Wil continues, voice soft and steady, expression wrought with concern. "I don't like to pry but... I know pain when I see it. You—you're really not okay, are you?"|Kay continues. "I wish I was better at this kinda thing, $!{aka}. You look so... beaten down, sometimes, when you think nobody's watching. I don't think life's been all that fair to you."|Teddie continues. "I know I'm shit at this. Don't know why you came to me. Fucked up attracts fucked up, I guess." He taps a jagged ridge on his hand. Staring down at it, he speaks quietly. "Nothing's stopped us yet. Don't forget that."|NOBODY CONTINUES|NOBODY CONTINUES}

No, this isn't—@{confide DUMMY|he's|they're|$!{whe}'s|she's|he's|DUMMY|DUMMY} not supposed to dig deeper.

You just, you just wanted to let the walls down. Be vulnerable for just a few seconds. Not… not [i]examined.[/i] Not [i]pitied.[/i]
*choice
    #There's no catharsis. I feel empty.
        Half the story isn't enough for @{confide DUMMY|him|them|${whim}|her|him|DUMMY|DUMMY} to truly understand. The whole story is too great a risk to tell.
        
        This conversation is hollow. Hollow sentiments. Hollow sympathies. 
        
        Hollow $!{forename}.
        
        "I don't want to talk about this anymore." Your voice sounds distant.
        
        *goto dontwannatalk
    #@{confide DUMMY|He's|They're|$!{whe}'s|She's|He's|DUMMY|DUMMY} in too close. Abort conversation. Now.
        "I don't want to talk about this anymore." The words trip over themselves in your haste to speak them.
        
        *label dontwannatalk
        @{confide DUMMY|"It's your choice."|Mallory sighs. "Alright. Not gonna force you."|"$!{aka2}—"|"$!{aka2}—"|After a moment's silence, Teddie shrugs. "Fine."|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        @{confide DUMMY|You barely resist the urge to laugh in his face. It's never [i]your[/i] choice.|You eye them, hesitant and suspicious, but against your expectations, they remain silent.|"I said I'm done."|"I said I'm done."|You eye him, knowing there's suspicion written all over your face, unable to bring yourself to care. Surely he's not dropping the subject so easily. Surely.|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        *if confide = 2
            Dion watches you impassively.
            
        *elseif confide = 3
            @{dionbed "I'm going to sleep,"|"…I'm going to bed,"} you mutter, @{dionbed rolling over to face the wall.|standing so fast your head spins.}
            
            *if (dionbed)
                "Sure," they say to your back. "Rest well."
                
                You don't answer them.
            
            *else
                "Okay. Good idea."
                
                You don't answer, rushing to your room as fast as possible.
            *goto shakennotstirred
                
        *elseif confide = 4
            @{(romance_wil > 1) $!{whis} face falls. "$!{aka2}, I—" $!{whe} stops, shaking ${whis} head. "No. I'm sorry. I'll give you space."|Wil's expression is pained. "Okay," they murmur.}
            
        *elseif confide = 5
            "But I—" Kay stops, dropping her eyes. "Right. Alright."
            
        *else
            He says nothing, impassive.
        
        Rising, you head to your room as fast as possible.
        
        *label shakennotstirred
        You can't deny feeling a little shaken. You thought you'd hidden your—(pain? trauma? self?)—tracks better than that. 
        
        *goto finalising
    #I'm on the verge of breaking down. I can't continue.
        A minute or two more of this and you'll tip over the edge.
        
        You press your fingers against your eyes, shudder through a breath. "I… I need some space."
        
        @{confide DUMMY|"It's your choice."|Mallory sighs. "Alright. Not gonna force you."|"$!{aka2}—"|"$!{aka2}—"|After a moment's silence, Teddie shrugs. "Fine."|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        *if ((dionbed) and (confide = 3))
            You roll over and pretend that facing the wall is enough to shield you from the cascading emotions.
     
        *else
            "Night," you blurt, standing so fast your head spins. "I'm—good night."
        
            You rush to your room as fast as your feet can carry you.
            
        *goto finalising
    #@{confide DUMMY|He doesn't|They don't|$!{whe} doesn't|She doesn't|He doesn't|DUMMY|DUMMY} know me. I don't need @{confide DUMMY|his|their|${whis}|her|his|DUMMY|DUMMY} 'compassion'.
        @{confide DUMMY|He suspects you have demons? He has no fucking idea.|There's still 'you' in there? They don't even know who the fuck 'you' really are.|You're not okay? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?|Life hasn't been fair? You're not a fucking sob story.|You're both fucked up? You're worlds apart.|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        "This conversation is over," you say, barely suppressing the surge of fury crashing through your body.
        
        *goto dontwannatalk
    #A sickly pit of yearning yawns in my chest. If only I could explain.
        A forlorn, feverish, and above all, impossible hope.
        
        Speak any more of your past and you'll unravel, totally and utterly. You haven't the will to stem such a flood.
        
        And along that path lies ruin.
        
        "I… I'm going to go to bed, I think."
        
        @{confide DUMMY|Dion inclines his head. A fraction of an inch. "That may be best."|"Sure thing," Mal replies. "Just remember what I said."|Wil starts to protest, then breaks off with a sigh. "Alright. Just remember, I'm here any time." |Kay's shoulders slump in disappointed. "Okay... have a good night."|Teddie barely reacts to your abrupt withdrawal. "Fine."|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        *goto headingforbed
    #Yet somehow, the burden feels lessened.
        If only by the weight of a feather.
        
        And maybe that's how this has to happen. One feather at a time.
        
        What you know for sure is that tonight's progress is done. Take this any further, and you don't trust yourself to keep control. You'll slip. Say too much.
        
        @{confide DUMMY|"Okay," you say quietly. "I'll keep it in mind."|"Okay," you say quietly. "Thank you."|"I don't know," you say quietly. "But thanks. For caring."|"Not always," you say quietly. "Thanks. For caring."|"I won't," you say quietly. "Thanks."|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        @{confide DUMMY|Dion inclines his head. A fraction of an inch.|They look away. When they reply, their voice is bashful. "It's nothing."|"$!{aka}, that's literally the least I can do."|"Don't mention it, $!{aka}."|Teddie gives a slight nod of acknowledgement.|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        "I'm gonna get some rest," you say.
        
        @{confide DUMMY|"A good idea. Take care."|"Absolutely."|"I…alright. Remember, I'm here any time."|"Alrighty. Sleep well."|"Sure. Night."|DUMMY|DUMMY}
        
        *label headingforbed
        *if ((dionbed) and (confide = 3))
            You allow yourself to slide horizontal and then roll over, tugging the covers across your body.
            
        *else
            You get up and head bedwards.
            
        *goto finalising
    *if ((confide = 4) and (romance_wil > 1)) #I... I wish I could let ${whim} in, but...
        Wil, $!{wname}… you and ${whim} have started to forge a connection. @{(romance_wil = 2) Even if that's only in being comfortable enough to have flirty banter,|Even if it's fledgling,} that's far more a bond than your tenuous allegiance to the Altruists as a whole.
        
        And it's still not enough. If you tell Wil any more of your past you don't know where you'll stop, and whatever bond you do share, you can't risk everything on the forlorn hope it'll survive the brutal truth.
        
        You can't.
        
        "Sorry, Wil, it's just…" You struggle to hold eye contact, fail. "I need time. I just need time."
        
        $!{whe} softly sighs. "I understand. Genuinely. Take all you need. I'm here either way."
        
        You don't trust your voice any further. You nod, rise, and all-but flee to your room.
        
        *goto finalising
*label agentreact
*if (agentreact)
    *return
*else
    One of the DPR's very own boogeymen. They've always danced around the line of myth and reality. Everyone accepts DPR [i]agents[/i] exist, but that capital letter is the difference between a high-ranking officer and a killing machine packed to the gills with cybernetics.
    *choice
        #Wonder aloud why an Agent would be there.
            "They wouldn't send an Agent just for kicks. It must have been something about the mission," you say. Dion's deeper into this world than you, and he clearly believes Agents are the real deal.
            
            Dion nods. "Checks and balances. A team of masks with an Agent says 'oversight' to me."
            
            You each ponder the unspoken question a moment. What kind of oversight?
            
        #I try not to let it show that I'm unnerved.
            Agents should be a ghost story. Government cryptids. The idea of ruthless ultra-Augments entering your sphere sends a chill down your spine.
            
        #"Aren't Agents just urban legends?"
            Dion gives you a long look. "No. No they are not."
            
            His conviction is ironclad. You don't think he'd lie.
            
        #I shrug, unbothered. 
            Dion gives you a long look. "…I can tell you've never run into an Agent."
            
            He says it like a plain statement of fact. And maybe that puts the slightest dent in your blasé attitude. Still… how bad could they really be? Dion doesn't know your experience. 
            
*set agentreact true
*return

*label escapethezoneinjured
*page_break
*gosub heatset
@{(mc_height > 3) Your legs drag along the ground|Your legs dangle in midair} while Rampage and Fracture haul you along. You're dimly, hazily aware of the terrain growing more traversable, if only because you're taking less bumps along the way. Indistinct murmurs pass between the two of them. You catch something about @{(heat < 3) 'not many DPR guys'|'DPR guys fucking everywhere'}, but before you can mumble the question, your eyes close. When they reopen, you're suddenly propped against a wall with Rampage looking anxiously into your face.

"$!{mask}, you with us?"

"Mmrh…" you don't-really-say. Your head wants to slump down to your chest, but you hold it upright. Progress.

*if ((soutcome = 2))
    "We gave Surpass the slip. Just hold on. We're gonna get you home."

*else
    "We're out of the Zone. Just hold on. We're gonna get you home."

@{ranaway Getting clear. Yeah. Yeah that sounds. That sounds good.|A sense of irony seeps through the haze that is your mental state. Hah. The supervillains helping you where your best friends wouldn't.}

Taking your silence as assent, Rampage loops your arm around her shoulder and Fracture does the same.
*page_break Limp home.

You're back stumbling along for yourself by the time you make it to the street of your safehouse, though with each step, you seem to cover less and less distance. You turn onto the driveway of the base and stop in your tracks, swaying. Your eyes unfocus. The distance ahead stretches on endlessly.

*choice
    #I lean on Fracture.
        *set helpinside 1
        Fracture lets out a surprised grunt the moment you grab hold of his arm for support. For a second or two you think he might just shake you straight off, but instead he slows his pace to stop you from falling behind.
        
        With his help, you navigate up to the front door.
        
    #I lean on Rampage.
        *set helpinside 2
        Rampage glances at you as you take her arm, and then nods resolutely, setting her jaw in determination. She half-hauls, half-carries you across the remaining distance to the front door. 
        
    #No, I'll make it back under my own power.
        *set helpinside 3
        One foot in front of the other.
        
        You stumble to and fro, questing towards the safehouse entrance. You reach out your hand, and that's somehow the final straw; you collapse into a heap against the door.

@{helpinside Fracture steadies you patiently as Rampage scrambles with her keys to get the door open.|Rampage fumbles with her keys, made awkward by you dragging down on her arm. Eventually, Fracture grunts in irritation, nudges her aside, and gets the door himself.|Rampage awkwardly helps you out of the way, and Fracture gets the door. You stay on the floor for the moment.} Inside the safehouse, you see a dishevelled Wyrd pacing back and forth; they swivel around as your group enters, then rush over.

*goto wyrdinjury
                
*label logentry
*if checkedlog
    Like in the previous log, you see a list of 'AUTHORISED' entries, complete with usernames, and like in the previous log, you scroll until you reach an exception to the rule.

*else
    Several dozen rows populate the screen, individually timestamped entries mostly reading 'AUTHORISED', followed by what you assume are usernames.
        
    A1 AUTHORISED — SchofLuk
        
    A1 AUTHORISED — MartiDan
        
    A1 AUTHORISED — McCartVas
        
    Most rows share an identical format. A1, A2, B1, or B2, with the very occasional C or D. Varying times, the same handful of recurring names, and invariably AUTHORISED. Invariably, that is, save for one section of the page. Naturally, you direct your attention towards the break in the pattern.
        
*return


*label repeatcheck
*if (battlephase = 2)
    *if tactic1 = tactic2
        *set inarow true
        *set dupetactic tactic1
        *goto repeatouch
    *else
        *return
*elseif (battlephase = 3)
    *if ((tactic3 = tactic1) and (tactic3 = tactic2)) 
        *set dupetactic tactic1
        *goto repeatbruh
    *elseif (tactic3 = tactic1)
        *set dupetactic tactic1
        *goto repeatouch
    *elseif (tactic3 = tactic2)
        *set dupetactic tactic2
        *set inarow true
        *goto repeatouch
    *else
        *return
*else
    *return
    
*label juicecheck
*if ((juice < 51) and (warninggiven = 0))
    [b]Your membrane quivers uneasily. Cold sweat beads upon your brow. So much exertion on limited Juice is getting to you.[/b]
    *set warninggiven 1
    *return
*elseif ((juice < 26) and (warninggiven != 2))
    [b]Gripped by nausea, you dry heave. Panting, you feel your membrane twitch and shudder. You're reaching your limit.[/b]
    *set warninggiven 2
    *return
*elseif (juice <= 0)
    *if timepass = 1
        *if (lastjuice)
            *bug if you're seeing this, the writer goofed and let you drop your juice too low! please let her know on choice of games or tumblr which options you selected!
            
        *else
            *set juice 1
            *set lastjuice true
            [b]Hungry mouths bite at your senses. You're almost spent.[/b]
        
            *return
    *else
        *set juice 0
    
    *if (not (juiceless))
        *gosub juiceless
        *return
    *else
        *goto juicelesstwo
*else
    *return
    
*label battlephase
*if battlephase = 1
    
            *goto phase1
*elseif battlephase = 2
    
            *goto phase2        
*else
    
            *goto phase3 
*label juiceless
*set juiceless true
*set nojuicezone true

[b]There's a thrumming at your core. A sickly, vibrating tension. Your membrane trembles, ripples, and then [i]clamps[/i].[/b]

*page_break [b]Oh no. No.[/b]

Pain erupts across your body, [i]within[/i] your body. Yearning and hungry, your powers turn to the only sustenance on offer: their host.

nonononononono

You let out an unearthly scream, @{(timepass = 4) curling into an agonised ball.|collapsing to hands and knees in the throes of agony.} Your tendrils lash wildly at the air, the membrane shaking, twisting, reforming.

Needlelike teeth sink bite at you from the inside out, eating away at flesh and blood and organs. Red seeps into the inky blackness covering you, and then is greedily drank dry.

You're strapped to Hypothesis's table. You're huddled in that cage. You're opening the door to a nightmare.

A coherent thought desperately fights through the fear and pain. If you don't do something, you're as good as dead.

*page_break Act.
*set juice +10
*set injurydesc 9
*if mc_health < 3
    *set mc_health 3
    *set injurydesc 9
*else
    *set mc_health 4
            
Gathering the tattered shreds of your willpower, you push the ravenous, insatiable mouths outward, away from your most vital areas.

Such starving predators do not go quietly, nor willingly. These are not your powers. These are not under your control. To move them, you must prise them out tooth by tooth, inch by inch.

Even as the pain from within lessens, it intensifies from without. Your skin is ripped and torn, your body ravaged. 

You bleed, and the hunger ebbs, the membrane loosens. Your pound of flesh has bought a reprieve, but you're on borrowed time.

Teeth crowd the edges of your consciousness.
            
  
*if timepass = 2
    Your surroundings slowly fade back into awareness. Vantage stands on full guard, an intense look in her eyes. You force one leg back under you, then the other, and rise unsteadily.
    
    "Lacking in proper control. Added to sim; examine further," she mutters to herself.
    
    Oh great, exactly what you want to hear. Still, for now you're just fortunate that she didn't finish you off.
    
    Head back in the game, $!{forename}.
    
    *page_break
    *return

*elseif timepass = 3
    Your surroundings slowly fade back into awareness. Fracture and Rampage hover nearby, deeply concerned. When the hell did they arrive? How long were you trapped in that prison? You force one leg back under you, then the other. Surpass could be right around the corner. You have to get out of here.
    
    "Dude… are you okay?" Rampage asks, anxious and uncertain.
    
    "We gotta go," you mumble, forcing the words through uncooperative lips.
    
    She starts to speak, but Fracture nudges her. She pauses, then nods. "Right, right… yeah."
    
    Alongside your comrades, you stumble on.
    *goto escapethezone
    
*elseif timepass = 4
    *return
    
*elseif timepass = 5
    Your surroundings slowly fade back into awareness. Surprisingly, Surpass didn't take the opportunity to pound you into the concrete, and stays on guard, fists up. Sporting, or just unsure? You force one leg back under you, then the other, and rise unsteadily.
    
    She looks you up and down, then snorts, shaking her head. "You just get weirder and weirder, $!{snick}. You sure you're not gonna like, melt into a puddle or something?"
    
    Wounded, desperate, and gripped in the clutches of an old and primal fear, you ignore her and try to regain your composure. Can't lose your head, or this devil's bargain will be for nothing.
    
    *return
    
*label juicelesstwo
*set collapsezone true
*if timepass < 3
    *set soutcome 7
    *set poutcome 4
    *set goutcome 3
 
*if timepass = 5
    *set soutcome 8
You suddenly shiver, and in that moment you realise your mistake.

The blood price was only ever temporary, and you just ran it dry.

*label juicelessthree
*page_break the teeth rush to claim you

[i]subject quickly deteriorates when deprived of the formula…[/i]

it's eating you

it's eating you
it'seatingyou

[i]at current rate of decline, subject's body will begin to fail in approximately…[/i]

just make it stop

just let it end

[i]A face covered by a surgical mask. A hand holding a syringe.[/i]

[i]"Stay still. There's a good subject."[/i]

*choice
    #help me
        [i]"No need to fuss."[/i]
        
    #no no no
        [i]"Now now, none of that."[/i]
        
    #please no more
        [i]"Come now, this is valuable work."[/i]

You writhe and thrash.

You'd scream, but the teeth are chewing at your throat.
*page_break "Holy shit, holy shit."
"Calm down and move." 

Voices. Dimly familiar.

"I'm—${mc_his} powers are attacking ${mc_him}, Teddie!"

"Rampage—"

"I don't care about codenames right now! We're clear! I care about what the fuck's wrong with $!{aka}!"

*choice
    #Mumble.
        It isn't words. There's no space for words.
        
        the teeth are in you and inside you and, and—
        
    #Moan.
        It's a tiny, piteous sound. All the noise you can muster.
        
        they're eating your chest your lungs your—
        
    #Cry.
        No tears.
        
        it's in your eyes oh fuck it's in your eyes—
        
"$!{mask}. Stay still," Fracture growls close to your ear. The command, firmly issued, halts your flailing in its tracks. 

A little more cognisance filters through. You're off the ground. Being carried. Hard to place, with your senses drowning in abject torture.

it hurts. it hurts. it hurts so much.

*page_break
You swim in and out of consciousness. Snatches of sentences blur around you.

Not every voice belongs to Rampage or Fracture.

@{ephalanx Beth. Beth's alive. Did you imagine that?|Grant. Shauna. Hypothesis again.} Prii leers at you, winking.

"Made it!"

Something jingles. Keys. A door creaks open. You barely manage to lift your head, slumped against Fracture's shoulder. Inside the Altruist safehouse, you see a dishevelled Wyrd, who swivels from pacing and rushes over.

*label wyrdinjury
"You're back! Thank fuck forohhhh shit." Their eyes widen, taking in your condition. "The fuck happened here?"

*if (hurtbysurpass)
    "Surpass," Fracture growls.
    
*else
    Rampage and Fracture exchange glances. "$!{mc_his} powers. We think," Rampage replies.
    
@{hurtbysurpass "Fucking Surpass. Of course," spits Wyrd. They gesture to the others. "|"You [i]think?[/i]" Wyrd interrupts themself with a shake of the head. "Priorities. }Get ${mc_him} in here, fast as you can."

@{(helpinside = 3) You've no more strength to move, and the others lift you up. |}Slung between them, you pass the threshold. @{hurtbysurpass |You're awash, floating in a mist of pain without span or border.}

"Here, over here. Lay ${mc_him} on the mat. Easy does it."

On the ground, staring up at the ceiling. When…?

"Keep it steady, guys." Mal's face appears overhead, sporting a tight smile. "Sorry about this, $!{aka}. You're doing great."

@{hurtbysurpass You think you laugh. It's something resembling a laugh. At a great distance.|A noise that may originally have been a laugh gurgles out of you, about as mangled as your body feels.} Sure, Mallory, you're [i]great[/i].
*page_break

*if (collapsezone)
    *set doubt_wyrd +10
    *set suppressants 2
    Mallory dips out of view. Their voice swims in and out of perception like a glitching speaker. Hard to concentrate. hurts.
    
    "What made ${mc_his} powers freak out? Did either of you see?"
    
    "No. One second $!{mask} was fighting, the next…" Kay trails off.
    
    Mal hisses between their teeth. "Fabulous." 
    
    A lucid thought surfaces from somewhere in the fog of agony; it may help them treat you if you explain what's going on.
    *choice
        #And just spill that my powers don't follow the rules? Absolutely fucking not.
            The situation's bad enough as it is without blowing your cover.
            
            You keep your mouth shut. The thought slips back underwater, drowning in blood.
            
        #Maybe if I stick to the non-Juice parts, it'll work.
            *set doubt_wyrd - 5
            You're walking a razor's edge. They can't find out your powers' secrets. The Coven can't find out you said anything.
            
            But what does one razor matter, when a horde is savaging you from the inside out? 
            
            "S'my powers."
            
            You aren't sure you actually spoke until Mal reappears in your eyeline. "$!{aka2}?"
            
            Your hand is a lead weight as you try to gesture. "Powers. When I push myself too much. They—" A convulsion cuts you off.
            
            "Motherfucker. Okay, I hear you." They vanish momentarily, returning with a syringe in hand. Instinctively, you stiffen up. Mal raises a placatory hand. "Easy. If it's overdoing your powers, best thing to do is use a suppressant until they calm down, yeah?"
            
            @{(knowledge > 34) If you were in a better state, you'd ask where the hell they got those. Suppressants aren't exactly grocery store stock.|…Those are a thing? What?}
            
            You reluctantly nod. Mal lines up the syringe and injects you, smooth as you like.
            
            *goto soothe
        #I'm paralysed. My power's teeth, or the Coven's wrath?
            *set defiance -1
            This suffering is only a fraction of what they're capable of. It's [i]part[/i] of what they're capable of.
            
            If you spill secrets, Hypothesis will make your life a living hell.
            
            Perhaps you're already there.
            
    "Okay. Okay." Mallory's muttering to themself. You think they're pacing. Maybe it's a hungering heartbeat that pounds in your ears. "Right. Hold ${mc_him} down, please."

    Kay and Teddie appear either side of you. Hands grip your arms and you tense. No. No no. Kay, mask down, tries a weak smile, but nothing in the world could reassure you in this moment.

    She turns her head. Her eyes widen slightly. "Mal, what's that?"

    "Power suppressant. Lasts a few hours. Hopefully that's long enough for whatever the fuck this is to settle down."

    Mallory leans in over you.

    They're holding a syringe.
    *choice
        #Flip the fuck out.
            "Get away from me!" you scream, wrenching wildly against Kay and Teddie. "Get away GET AWAY!"

            "Fucking hell," Mal growls. "Hold ${mc_him} still!"

            "Mal—" Kay begins.

            "I said hold ${mc_him} still! I need to get this done!"

            Teddie's grip redoubles. It's a moment before Kay does the same. You fight even harder, spitting and screaming at the top of your lungs as you thrash about. Not the needle. Not the injection. You won't, you won't—

            As ever, your struggles are futile. You haven't the strength to resist. Their hands anchor you down. You whimper and writhe as the syringe presses into your skin.

            "There," says Mal. The needle slides free. Mal looks you in the eye. "I'm sorry about that, $!{aka}, I really am."
            
            *label franticsick
            It's a few frantic, sickened seconds before you realise that there are no fresh agonies rampaging through your body, no numbness, nor inexorable drag towards sleep. Actually, some of the pain… recedes. The desperate hunger subsides. Your yammering heart does not.
            
            *goto normalgoop
        #Total shutdown.
            You freeze, utterly motionless.
            
            "$!{aka}?" Mal murmurs. You remain silent and still. "Dammit. I'm gonna inject this now, alright?"
            
            Don't speak. Don't struggle. Don't resist.
            
            "Mal, I don't think ${mc_he}@{mc_singular 's|'re} okay."
            
            They ignore her and lean closer. "Nothing to worry about. It'll be over in a couple of seconds."
            
            You flinch. Mal hesitates, then you feel the needle press against your skin.
            
            *goto franticsick
        #Struggling is against the rules.
            Fight, and it'll be worse for you.
            
            One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
            
            The dark place. Hearing its breathing. Not knowing how near it could be.
            
            A song, leaving you to awake somewhere new, something done to you that you don't know—
            
            "Done," says Mal. You startle from your trance. They lean a little closer, frowning. "Kinda glazing over there, $!{aka}. You alright?"
            
            Acquiescence is expected. You nod.
            
            *goto soothe
            
        #Beg.
            "No no no, please, no no—" You're babbling, pulling against Kay and Teddie.

            "Mal!"

            They don't look at her. "Just hold ${mc_him} still." Their focus stays on you, deep brown eyes boring into yours. "$!{aka2}, gonna need you to calm down. If you keep thrashing like that, I might hurt you."
            
            "—please, pleaseplease—"
            
            "Fucking hell." The moment your struggles subside in the smallest degree, Mal lines up the syringe with your restrained arm and injects. You whimper and whine.
            
            *goto franticsick
        #Fear paralyses my tongue. I shake my head, pleading with my eyes.
            Not the needle. Please not the needle.
            
            "$!{aka}, it's gonna be okay. Trust me."
            
            Trust? With a syringe in their hand? What a sick joke.
            
            They lean closer. You make a noise akin to a whimper. 
            
            "Mal…" Kay murmurs.
            
            They ignore her. The needle pierces your skin and you whimper again. "Sorry," Mal mutters. "It'll be over in a second. You're doing great." It slides free. You snatch protectively at your arm, cradling by the elbow.
            
            *goto franticsick
         
            *label soothe
            The hungering teeth recede a little. You feel—better is too strong. You feel less like your own powers are eating you alive. Hurrah for you.
            
            *label normalgoop
            Mal studies you. "Alright… your goop's looking more normal. Recommend you figure out whatever messed it up and, you know, don't do that again. I don't have a big supply of suppressants, and they drop off real fast. People's bodies adapt or something."
            
            Of course it was too much to hope that they could be a long term solution. But right now, that barely matters.
            
            *label shouldwestay
            "Should we stay?" Kay asks from somewhere nebulously in your vicinity.
            
            "Nah. Would rather have you guys stand watch," Mal answers. "I mean, you can help me get ${mc_him} into bed, but I'll keep an eye on ${mc_him}."
            
            Without much input of your own, the group helps you to your feet and then through the marathon that is crossing the room to lay down on the bed. After briefly conferring with Mal, Kay and Teddie head out.
            
            Mal turns to you and offers a tired smile. "Just rest, alright?"
            
            You're unconscious almost before they finish their sentence.
            *goto wakingup
        
        
*else
    *set doubt_wyrd + 5
    *if surpass_stomach = 2
        *set surpass_stomach 3
        
    Mal continues looking you over, talking all the while. @{(remotemembrane = 2) "Not sure there's much I can do with this, $!{aka}. Your goop's barely there. What did you do?| "Bleeding's slowed down. Good. Powers are lending us a hand." They glance to your face, and you don't much like the sympathetic look in their eyes. "Hate to say this, $!{aka}, but I'm gonna need to check for internal damage,"}
    
    @{(remotemembrane = 2) You grind through a barely-comprehensible explanation of your membrane's demise. Mallory stares, then shakes their head. "Absolute lunatic. I guess I'm impressed, but what the fuck?"|And this isn't exactly a hospital. They'd have to do it the old-fashioned way.}
    
    @{(remotemembrane = 2) "That is so cool," Kay whispers. Presently, you're not sure you'd agree. You hear Teddie jostle her.|}
    
    @{(remotemembrane = 2) "Best I can think of here is giving you fluids and food. Help you regenerate the lost mass." Mal sighs. "I dunno, $!{aka2}, it's your power. Wanna throw me a bone?"|}
    
    *if remotemembrane = 2
        *choice
            #And risk revealing my secret? Absolutely fucking not.
                The situation's bad enough as it is without blowing your cover. Even the smallest detail could be the pebble that begins an avalanche. You shake your head.
                
                "Food and drink it is," Mal replies.
                
                *label theydontseem
                They don't seem bothered. If only you could trust appearances.
                
            #A nudge in the right direction couldn't hurt.
                "Raw is best," you rasp. "Nothing processed. Not as good."
                
                "Raid the veggie drawer, got it."
                
                You sink back to the mat, exhausted by the effort. Already, your mind's going nuts with speculation, analysing and re-analysing whether your words might spill into disaster.
                
            #I know exactly what I need. It's also exactly what I can't have.
                Juice. Juice would help.
                
                @{(vials = 0) If you hadn't destroyed it. Fuck.|Too bad it's all the way back in your shipping container.} You couldn't drink it anyway. You'd out yourself in an instant.
                
                At your silence, Mal shrugs. "Food and drink it is."
                
                *goto theydontseem
                
        Mallory continues. "For now, let's just get you into bed. I'll go grab some supplies in a sec."
        
        *goto shouldwestay

    *else
        Not to mention, they'll be all up in your membrane, and that's a problem all its own.
        *choice
            #It'd be a disaster to let them get such a close look at my membrane.
                The more they see, the more risk they work out your power doesn't follow the rules.
                
                *label medicalheadshake
                You shake your head. Mal closes their eyes, screwing up their face. "$!{aka2}… I really don't want to force you."
                *choice
                    #"Make a bitter comment.
                        "But you will," you snap.
                        
                        *goto youcoulddie
                    #"Then don't."
                        *label youcoulddie
                        "You could die, $!{aka2}!" Mal raises their voice. "You're my patient, I have a responsibility!"
                        
                        "And what I want doesn't matter?"
                        
                        "I'm not letting you bleed out on my watch, $!{aka2}!"
                        
                        They aren't backing down, and the frustrating reality is that you aren't in a position to stop them. Even if you put up a fight, they'll get their way in the end.
                        *choice
                            #Concede.
                                You sigh. "Fine. Do what you have to."
                                
                                Mal's smile is limp.
                                
                                *goto malexam
                            #Concede. Grudgingly.
                                *set rel_wyrd %- 5
                                "Whatever. Not like you're giving me a choice."
                                
                                "…See it that way if you want," Mal mutters.
                                
                                *goto malexam
                            #Make them work for it anyway.
                                *set defiance +1
                                *set rel_wyrd %- 5
                                
                                Years of experiments and captivity flash before you. No more.
                                
                                You thrash and struggle, spit and curse. Teddie and Kay have to hold you down as Mallory fights to make their inspection. Ultimately you don't hold them off for long, but a low flame of pride burns in your chest. You resisted. That matters.
                            
                    #My body runs to ice. I'll be punished.
                        Of course. Sooner or later the veneer comes away. Sooner or later, any scant kindness gives way to closed fists.
                        
                        You nod, numb acceptance washing over you. 
                        
                        *goto malexam
            #Forget the cover story, it'd hurt like hell!
                Mal rooting around in your guts? Yeah no thanks.
                
                *goto medicalheadshake
            #Never mind the pain. The prospect of a medical exam has me frozen.
                You're back in the lab. You're hearing that voice, endlessly notating.
                
                Scalpels cutting into your flesh.
                
                Every inch of you picked apart and meticulously examined, Juice and none. Specimen. Subject.
                
                Mal begins their work, and you're motionless.
                
                *goto malexam
            *if ((aro != 4) and (romance_wyrd != 1)) #"Not the way I pictured you getting inside me." @{ftone [Flirt]|}
                *set flirt_wyrd +1
                *set overt_wyrd true
                *set interest_wyrd true
                *set rel_wyrd %+ 15
                *set expressive %+ 10
                
                Mal double-takes, then busts out laughing. "$!{aka}, that is foul, holy shit." You manage a strained grin, which they match. "Glad you've still got your sense of humour."
                
                Teddie makes a disgusted noise.
                
                *label malexam
                The examination is mercifully brief. You don't know what tools Mallory uses and you don't look to find out. The sight of your own innards is a little much for you to, well, stomach.
                
                Mal straightens up, peeling off a pair of surgical gloves daubed in black fluid. "You're holding together in there $!{aka2}. Just about." Their face twists in fury. "Still, my official diagnosis is that if it wasn't for your goop, I'm pretty sure you'd be straight up fucking dead." They throw up their hands. "And we're supposed to be the bad guys? What a piece of shit."
                
                "$!{aka2}'s alive. All that matters," says Teddie.
                
                "Good point." Mal looks you in the eye. "Let's get you into bed, $!{aka}. Sorry for poking around."
                
                *goto shouldwestay

*label wakingup
*page_break Slumber.
*set doctormal 4
Fitful, muddled dreams. Whispers you can't understand. Faces you can't recognise, smudged and indistinct.

A soft voice. Close by. You don't immediately recognise that you're out of dreamland, then a floorboard creaks sharply and you're suddenly on full alert. The hairs on your neck stand on end.

"Mallory. Mallory, wake up."

"Mmn… Dion!?" You hear scrambling movement, the scrape of a chair.

"Ssh. Considering you fell asleep next to ${aka2}, I assume you don't want to wake ${mc_him}."

@{interest_wyrd "...Get that smug look off your face, jerk. You don't know anything."|"Well I was gonna say I was worried about you, but I'm revoking your Malworry tokens."}

@{interest_wyrd "Of course." That is not the voice of a man who has removed the smugness from his face.|"Tragic, whatever will I do."}

Slowly, your eyes pare open. Through narrow slits, you see Dion standing at your bedside, Mallory slouched in a chair close to your head. Unfortunately your movement is apparently less subtle than you thought, and they both turn in your direction.

"Ah, hey. Try not to move, alright?" Mal says, shooting Dion a dirty look.
*choice
    #I shrink away, feeling vulnerable.
        You were asleep with Mallory within a couple of feet. Dion looms overhead. You're defenceless, and instinctively pull into the corner, back to the wall.
        
        "Easy, easy," Mal soothes. "You're okay."
        
        Sure. Just like every night in the past five years.
        
    #Thank Mal for watching over me.
        *set rel_wyrd %+ 5
        "Thanks," you tell them.
        
        A small, strange smile flits over their mouth. "Anytime. But also like, preferably don't get hurt again?"
        
    #I hope to hell I wasn't sleep-talking.
        You move your arms a little, then your legs. No bindings. Surely they'd have you under lock and key, had anything incriminating slipped out.
        
        Surely.
        
    *if ((aro != 4) and (romance_wyrd != 1)) #I'm flustered that Mallory was watching me. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
        *set flirt_wyrd +1
        *set interest_wyrd true
        "You watched me sleep?" you blurt.
        
        "Uh…" Colour rushes to Mal's cheeks. "Look, what kinda doctor would I be if I didn't keep an eye on my patient?"
        
        Dion chuckles quietly. "You never change, Mallory."
        
        "Shut it."
        
    *if ((aro != 4) and (romance_wyrd != 1)) #Oh. Man. I think I'm kind of into that. @{ftone [Flirt, passive]|}
        *set flirt_wyrd +1
        *set interest_wyrd true
        Mal getting all protective and waiting at your bedside?
        
        That, uh. Yeah. That might do something for you.
        
        Before you can get distracted any further, Mal glances at Dion. "So… what's the story, D?"
        
Dion addresses you. "Sorry to impose on you while you're hurt, $!{aka2}, but we need to discuss the Zone."

"Fuck, D, can't it wait until tomorrow?" Mal protests.

"No." With a single word, Dion shuts them down.

"Uh-huh. And guessing you want me out of the room, too?"

"Please."

Mal laughs, hard and derisive, and stalks out.

*set dionbed true
*goto onlyaglimpse

*label woundcheck
*comment if you get hurt after setting juice loose on your body
*comment we'll put this as a nice to have

*label heatset
*if (not (footagedestroy))
    *set heat +1
    
*if (alarmlevel > 1)
    *set heat +1
    
*if ((speed = 2) or (speed = 3))
    *set heat +1
    
*if ((speed > 3) or (collapsezone))
    *set heat +2
    
*return
    
*label finalising
*page_break Thoughts drift.
*achieve inthezone
*if getspiked = 2
    *set getspiked 3
    
You're stumbling towards the hour where being up late bleeds into being awake all too early, and you still can't quiet your mind, despite your abject exhaustion. @{dionbed Mallory lingering around is another distraction.|}
*choice
    #Not-Prii. What [i]was[/i] that?
        *set contemprii +1
        You've dreamed your ghosts. You've imagined what you would say, given just one more opportunity. Then the chance arose in the worst way possible.
        
        A phantom, a demon. @{(brokenheart = 2) A spectre of all your regret and anguish.|A walking, talking monument to your failings.}

        Not-Prii knew things they shouldn't know, things inexplicable of a simple illusion. How is that possible?
        *choice
            #Perhaps that fog was some kind of gas, and I hallucinated.
                That's… actually somewhat plausible. It would make sense as a security measure, and the fog affected everyone to some extent.
                
                You've got a lot on your conscience. Most of the time, you don't even need help to torment yourself with memories of the dead.
                
                Somehow, though, it feels a little too simple and convenient. The explanation makes sense, but does not satisfy.
                
                Maybe nothing will. Maybe that's the point.
                
            #Their final words. Could they hold some deeper meaning?
                *set contemprii +1
                
                They'll always be a part of you. They'll always be a part of you.
                
                Your powers are their powers, strained through that thing's bloodstream and then shot into your veins.
                
                They'll always be a part of you.
                
                [i]Prii. Are you… are you there?[/i]
                
                The inside of your head remains deathly silent.
                
            #Forget that. Not-Prii must have been the work of a parahuman.
                It's the only explanation that makes sense, unless you want to attribute the ghost of your @{(prev_li = "Prii") love|friend} to a spontaneous manifestation of survivor's guilt.
                
                On the other hand, nobody on the Hounds' payroll has a power like that. One of your teammates could be leading you astray, but if they can get into your head enough to pull out Prii, then they'd know everything else too, so that doesn't work either.
                
                The explanation makes sense, but it's not really an [i]answer[/i], and so your thoughts circle and circle.
                
        …You need sleep.
        
    *if (ephalanx) #Beth is Phalanx. [i]Beth is Phalanx.[/i]
        She's alive. Not only alive, she's a hero. And you fucking fought her.
        
        It's utter emotional whiplash. You're not sure you're even processing it yet. The whole scenario feels unreal, something that will collapse if you inspect it too closely.
        
        Would that be better, or worse?
        
        *if (ranaway)
            You've been in the dark so long, and now you know. @{guilt It only piles the guilt about that night higher. If Beth made it despite you running away, then [i]not[/i] running could have been the difference. You abandoned them, and now it's back to haunt you.|You'd think that the confirmation Beth made it would strengthen your slender insistence that fleeing was the right call. It doesn't.|It doesn't make you feel much better about what you did, back on that night. If anything, you only feel more judged.}
            
        *else
            @{battitude You've spent so long telling yourself you understood why Beth left you behind, but perhaps forgiveness is easier in the abstract. The idea of Beth is a lot different from the reality.|You've built all this resentment towards her. Yet it's festered for so long that now there's an outlet, it doesn't know where to go, rotting your heart. From inside.|You've numbed your emotions towards her for so long that the melange of conflicting feelings is causing system shock.|You've held this grief for so long. This merely pours it over.|All these years spent hating Beth, and now she's no longer a concept. It's easy to hate the idea of Beth. The reality of Beth has your fury bubbling over like a ruptured boiler. }
            
        *choice
            #I wish I could talk to her.
                You don't know what you'd say. Where you'd start. Just… knowing she's out there and out of reach is almost unbearable.
                
                Fuck.
                
            #Could she know it's me?
                @{shout You didn't give off any signs. You think.|You let her name slip out.|Well, you did fucking shout her name. Great work on your part.}
                
                She could put two and two together about $!{mask}'s powers and how closely they match Prii's. Are a few frantic minutes five and a half years ago enough for her to make the connection?
                
                That night's burned into your memory. Why would it be different for her?
                
            *if prev_li = "Beth"
                *if (brokenheart = 1) #Something in my shattered heart stirs.
                    Foolish. Absolutely foolish, absolutely absurd.
                    
                    Never stopped you before though, has it?
                    
                    You're only inviting more pain. Whatever's left of your heart can't survive another wound.
                    
                    Somehow that's still not enough to quench the tiny flicker of hope. 
                    
                    As you lay down your head and fall into slumber, that slender flame warms you, impervious against the storm from your rational mind.
                    
                    *finish
                *if (brokenheart != 1) #Damn me for a fool, but I still have feelings for her.
                    *if (not (compatible_beth))
                        Double the fool, with you being a guy. Almost gets into farce, frankly.
                        
                    *else
                        @{(pastcrush = 1) You never told her. And now here she is. A second chance?|How could you ever truly let go?}
                        
                    Beyond hopeless. Nonsense feelings are going to be the death of you. It's ancient history.
                    
                    As if that's going to stop you.
                    
            #My brain can't wrap around Beth being a superhero.
                Break it all the way back down to basics. Beth's been in the mask business for all this time? Five foot and change, a hundred pounds soaking wet with a brick in each pocket Beth, who you never saw lift anything heavier than a laptop?
                
                It doesn't compute. It's so impossible as to almost put a dent in your certainty. Almost. You know what you saw. You know what you heard.
                
        Chasing the thoughts in circles won't do you any good. Maybe sleeping on all this will settle your mind.
        
        Probably not.
        
    *if (inform1 < 5) #Will the Coven expect me to report this?
        Given how strenuously Hypothesis emphasised the Zone in your previous briefing, you're going to take a wild stab in the dark and say yes.
        
        *if ((alarmlevel = 1) and (footagedestroy))
            Kicker is, Hounds showing up notwithstanding, things went so smoothly that you maybe could have got away with sweeping this under the rug. Too late now.
            
        *else
            Even if you hadn't told $!{cg} about the mission, there was enough ruckus that you'd probably be called to account anyway, so that was the right call.
            
        Is anything you found at all related to Hypothesis's strange fixation on the place? The existence of the facility could be enough on its own without even getting into your experiences.
        
        You grimace.
        
        @{(confide = 7) If $!{cg} tells any of them about not-Prii, you don't know what you'll… the idea of them forcing you to discuss the encounter is—| You won't talk about not-Prii. No matter what. Whatever they do to you, it can't—}
        
        Ugh. Too much. You need to sleep.
        
    *if (inform1 > 4) #Is there any chance this doesn't get out to the Coven?
        *if ((alarmlevel = 1) and (footagedestroy))
            Maybe. Maybe. You didn't get busted on the way in. You wrecked the DPR's footage. It might be enough to get you off the hook.
            
            *label gremlink
            Gremlink managed to pull erased data once before. Your efforts could be for naught.
            
        *elseif (footagedestroy)
            You wrecked the DPR's footage, but also caused a ruckus getting into the Zone. With how closely Hypothesis seems to watch the place, you have reservations.
            
            *goto gremlink
        *else
            Well. The DPR's footage stayed intact@{(alarmlevel = 1) . Even though you kept things quiet on the way in, Hypothesis has already shown he can get his hands on that data. Thanks Gremlink. It may only be a matter of time.| [i]and[/i] you caused a ruckus getting into the Zone. So uh. That's not looking great.}
            
        And all that is assuming that neither Hounds nor DPR let the cat out of the bag that you and your fellow Altruists were snooping around and clashed heads. Best case scenario there is that the friendly fire incentivises both factions to keep it to themselves.
        
        Going in circles. You need to sleep.
        
    #What was Dion hoping to find down there?
        Records of operations, signs of activity. That's broad enough to be meaningless; it tells you nothing of his goals. He picked that facility for a reason, and he's put far too much work into this operation for 'the DPR have something to hide, so I looked' to satisfy as an explanation. Dion's too meticulous for that.
        
        @{(archa = 1) He reacted to Carnival's name. Did he know her? If so, then what does that mean?|} You've too few pieces of the puzzle.
        
        All you can do is venture ever deeper into this rabbit hole.
        
    #No. Sleep. Now.
        Don't need to quiet your thoughts if you're too tired to stay awake.        
  
You lay down your head and are out like a light.
*finish