[ti]scenario[/ti]Secrets Lost

SPOILER: Click to show

{orioncayge (TW flashing image)}The darkness and shadows crept, writhing and twisting, contorting. They, though, did not lash, or claw, or strike- What was physical harm to a fighter who could not die? What were physical wounds to a man with much more to lose?

Heedless of any dick Orion may have in hand, the darkness swarmed, soft and ephemeral as clouds. But the light and strength (and Class) was sapped from him all the same, path illuminated not by him, now-

But by a single CRT monitor.

"So, an exciting time for our viewers just tuning in, Bob."

The screen flickered, warped, faces obscured by chromatic aberrations. The voices were unmistakable.

"Absolutely- a pivotal day, as Southside is finally being held to task for the massacre that occurred almost seventeen years ago- the Black Valentine Riots."

Sand and shadow gave way- to blood, seeping faster into one shoe than the other, metallic and wet and hot against skin.

A tv behind Cayge flashed on, massive as a cinema screen. "Troy Cayge has finally been brought to justice, for the heinous murder he committed that week."

"However there's still one more at large." The hosts had turned more serious, a grim edge entering their voices.

"Yes- the one responsible for the entirety of the Black Valentine Riots."

Shapes formed on the once-sand. Outlines. Blood-seeped tape. Not chalk. They spanned Orion's field of view, obscured only by the still-clinging shadows.

A paper fluttered into him-

WANTED
ORION CAYGE

Mass Murder, Assault, Manslaughter
Dial 702-633-XXXX with any information

The picture shifted and warped, sometimes a man in his late twenties- and sometimes a scared child.

"This is your fault, Orion."

The paper shifted, prying away, folding into sharp edges, thin limbs. It fluttered to the ground a little paper man, and looked up at Orion impassively.

images from Persona 4, Vol. 3

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{Alistair}

Increased Heart Rate Detected!

The words were bright against the dim screen, hazy and doubled in waking eyes. For an instant, the world was quiet, only quick breathing, and the sudden snap of dry wood-

Followed by a loud, questioning coo, rising in pitch and frequency as the speaker was ignored. Other sounds followed- the muffled flow of cars on the street, the hum of an ancient radiator, the fan of the WorldView as it worked-

Until all that, too, fell away again.

Nintendo

Hydance

POKÉMON UNOVR
Season 2: Welcome to Ostellia!

The loading was cut by anothrt sharp cry, the cage rattling amidst the calls. The pigeon threw himself against the wire, shrieks growing louder and more insistant.

What crawled out of the broken cage, as it slammed against the sunroom windows, was not a pigeon.

Black arms spilled out, clinging to the ground as it dragged a bulbous body. It grew as it went, body sticking as it reached the doorframe, the wood splintering and cracking.

By the time it reached the stairwell, a turqoise maw snapped into the supports, frame vanishing into the beast.

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{Big Bee}UX man was cold. Frost falls, on and on and on. Constantly. UX man snow-shroud, lost. Sandy, too, VDU contact, too. Lost, lost, lost.

No forward, no athwart. Only cold, only lost.

Frost would wax and wax, as moon. As cold. As sorrow. As... how was that called? Old Scrolls V? Cold as a jarl's hold and as cold as a slogg'd task was arduous.

Suddenly, with relief, the malaise he'd been plagued with lifted. Like deep breaths after drowning.

It did nothing for the snow and sleet, the cold that clung to him, the days and nights of turbulent agony. But whatever had claimed his mind had backed away, at least for a moment.

Blizzard obscured vision. There was no more desert to be seen, no path to follow, or retreat with. Only ice and snow, and flesh raw and reddened, burnt and cold- There was no shelter from the chill, air growing more white and frosted-

And, the puffs of Big Bee's breath almost seemed to be coalescing before him, swelling into a shape. Soft and glassy, faceless, swirling in the air as if it had always belonged. It swirled this way and that, as if regarding him, before reaching out with a massive tentacle-like appendage.

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{Saint}The welcome rang like chiming temple bell,
sonorous and unyielding in the dark.
But the sands still rumbled, threat’ning and cold,
And from the shifting whirlpool came a shape
Monolithic and inhuman at once,
Cruel organics and machine laced as one.
There were no eyes to track the small angel,
Only a mouth to mock, and flames to eat
Consuming all that dared to stand below.
The statue shifted, shuddering with fear
Or impatience, yearning for a relief.
The steel shifted and groaned, and turned despite
Attention falling to the spot of life
And in a burst of flame, began pursuit.

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{Laguna}Silence droned.

    A wheel still spun, a movement lost to her, now.

Beyond the smell of oil and loss, the snap of lightning and power lines, light sparking against pooled liquid.

      It sparked against two crumpled piles of once-metal, things that would never work again.

                  so many things that would never work again

The cables snapped and thrashed, serpents reaching for prey to latch onto, light sputtering from the edges.

              the edges became hands, reaching, judging, arbiters.

                   Alone.

no

                                              Alone.

no

                                                       Alone.

no

                                                                Alone.

         laguna did not have the fortune of being alone

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{The Captain}The world sputtered and flickered, sands roiling like seas, despite being everything the water isn’t. There is no echoing call, no siren-song of direction. No storm to guide, no deep red sky. There is only blackness, the cruel nothingness of a starless spread, no guidance, no marker.

Save for one.

There, amidst the sands, is a buoy, pale creamy white against the shadow-black sand. It bobs, sometimes higher and sometimes lower, a single speck of safety. Slowly, in the way of objects, it drifts closer, the surface marred by plankton, flickering in bioluminescent colors. Karenia brevis. Lingulodinium polyedrum.

It drifts closer, massive and wide despite all appearances to the contrary.

It moves closer. There is something connected to the buoy, under the sand.

It looms closer. It is not algae. It is not a buoy.

There is no water to save you, here.

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{Navarre}The crowd swarms. They push back at Navarre- but do they even see him? Are they aware of him at all? Or is he just a ghost, here, ephemeral and unable to affect any change? Despite how their faces turn away,

Eyes are still locked on him, searching, judging. Condemning.

Did his brother ever care? Had he ever shown it?

The gravestones shift, moving, one settling against another, building and growing and swelling.

There are more eyes on Navarre, now. They are watching.

Judging.

Condemning.

Sentencing.

What do you know? Is it enough?

As always, those who post in every round, and have at least 800 words per post, will receive a surprise at the end.

Objective: D̷̛̹͌̉̊̀̏̓̔͌̓ȇ̸̢̦͈̰̝͓̦̈f̷̧̜͔̗͎̝͙̘̼̥̿̑̆͑̎ě̵̤̱̜̝̖̩̀̈̇a̸̡̡͙̪̭̝̹͗̔͑́͆̌̔́̅̕t̷̫̩̟̼͚̉̓͋̋̐̾̀̃̕͝ ̶̣̻̙͓̩̏͋̊t̷̙̺̩̠̊h̵̡̧͉̮̒̚e̴͕̥͎͕͛̏̈́͊̔ ̴̢̨͔̟̣̪͕͙̱̎̾̀̈́s̴̤͋̒̌̅̀͝t̵̡̛̰̫͕̗͎̱͋͂̃̑́̅͋͂̕a̶̪̰̖̙̭̋̈́͛̚l̴̢̡̯͈͂̈́̇k̵̨̬̰͍̟͔͈͕͑̏́̽͘͜͝i̶͈̰͍̩̋̑̈́̿̃̾̀n̸̛̲͕̗̼̈̿́̅g̵̢̛̯͕͎͘͝ ̶̲͉͎̗̖̮͚̱͓̝̑̋̎͌̂̈͑̎̚̚ñ̸̛̛̬͎̥̗̮̞̆̾͐̈́̒̕í̶̛͚̰̩͎̀̚͜͠g̶͕̮̩̦̞̖̑̀̽͊͌h̷̛̩̺̖̗͚̖̓̐̐̂̏̎͠t̸̨̠͙̗̀́̎͐̇̊m̸̤̉̿̃̾̃a̴̦̬͓̣͋r̴͓͍̮͙͉̄̽̍̌͋̔́͊̅͝e̷̤̠̅̊͒̚͘͠͝.̵̧̖̥̙̜̦̦̝̮̌̈͆̅͆͋͛͝͝ Survive, by whatever means necessary.
End Date: 26 Jan 2024, 10:00 PM EST // 27 Jan 2024, 03:00 AM GMT // 27 Jan 2024, 12:00 PM JST

Alistair Big Bee Saint Laguna orioncayge The Captain Navarre

Never work again. The world would never be the same.

They would never work again. She would never be the same again.

But that was okay. She had come to terms with it, expected it. Understood it. The Mother had come to know what it meant, what changes she had to make. How the world would view her, how it would change her too. She had been nothing. But she had made herself become something. The pain haunted her, drained her, consumed her, but she had fought again, and again, and again.

The weight of her fears weighed upon the world, twisting in vile shapes. Black worms cracked, sparked, and threatened. Demanding her attention, her fear, her desperation. They clawed ever closer, stabbing into the ground like a hungry predator eager for its next meal. The Mother stood, eyes closed for a brief moment as a deep breath was taken. The wires sprung ever closer, twisting into recognizable shapes. Pointing fingers, mocking faces, people walking away.

A sympathetic expression one minute, guilt the next, then nothing. Abandoned. All while the claws of emptiness crept even closer. The ever-reaching grasp of hate, pain, suffering, it demanded more. Electricity crackled, ready to make the Mother suffer evermore. Only the strike that had been planned, did not come. The piercing pain through the heart had been averted. The suffering had only been prolonged, claimed the nightmare.

The Mother was burning as hot as the sun.

"No," A decree, a demand uttered. Staring down into the faces of those who had left her. The ever-changing ocean of wires, an endless stream of emotions, said nothing. It didn't need to. Every word it could say, has already been thought before. "You will not claim me."

Heat poured off in waves, melting the outstretched hands that dared press in too close. Metal and rubber slumped to the ground, a familiar, unfortunate smell that she would never forget, now caused by her own will. The fire had tormented the Mother, but now it was her salvation. The power of the absent sun fueled her, carried her, held her and cradled her. Through it, she stood strong against the endless hoards.

"I suffered. I know." Said the Mother, her words as calm as they could surrounded by the endless hate that demanded her anger. "I was abandoned by those I needed most."

"Friends left me," said the Mother.

"I was alone."

"Absence terrified me," said the Mother.

"I was nothing."

"But, that was all a lie," said the Mother.

"I was never nothing. I was never alone."

Arms stretched out, she took a step forwards. The worms screamed in pain, attempting to swarm even as the burning heat filled the road. Flames radiating like a shimmering, shining star. A torch of her own cosmos. A burning footprint was left in the asphalt, leaving evidence of her resolve.

"I have worth. I have purpose. I know who I am. I might forget, I might struggle, I might suffer. But the truth will always be there. The sun always exists, even during the darkest of nights."

She takes a few more steps, the ocean of hate parting as the flames of her radiance melt it to scrap. The wreck, still burning of its own accord, once again in sight. The mother lets out a shaky sigh, confronting the truth of the nightmare. Kneeling admist the debris, the wires twisted into shape. A recognizable shape, a form not unknown to the Mother, twisted together from scraps of the wreck like a puppet built from the darkest of fears.

It was of her own, her true face. No sounds were made, but as it moved the Mother could hear their words. They used to be her own, after all.

"They left us to die!" Said the Anger.

"They couldn't look at us anymore," Said the Hurt.

"They thought we weren't worth being friends with anymore," Said the Abandoned.

"They had told us that we were going to be okay. They lied to us," Said the Fear.

"They believed we would be better off dead," Said the Useless.

"They never stood up for us," Said the Disfigured.

"They were right," Said the Nothing.

The Mother was silent, staring down at a perverted mockery of her own face. Her own feelings, her own fears, her own words. She could not deny them. The heat of the sun began to set, as the swarm crowded in. Desperate to end what it feared the most. Eager to claw out the one thing it dreaded more than anything.

"They were wrong," Said the Something.

The swarm hissed out in anger, faces twisting in rage. Claws struck, ripping chunks in the road, melting into the building heat once more.

"They struggled with guilt," Said the Compassion.

The swarm screamed, furious, demanding anger. Demanding to be proven right, to be told that the fears were built on logic. The worms grew desperate, swarming in total. Every direction was endless burning rubber as it poured in.

"They would want me to believe I still have worth," Said the Hope.

The Nightmare held no strength over the Mother anymore. It's attempts to stall her couldn't contain her. With a very focused step, she burning step after burning step. Her own face in the swarm began to melt into rubber and metals, slumping forwards. The horror of destroying her own figure dawned on the woman, but it was more than that. A representation of everything she was not, of everything she was. The true heart, the true fight for her soul every single day. More words echoed into her own mind as she watched.

"How can you be so sure?" Said the Nothing. "What if you're wrong?"

"Because I know something you never could," Said the Determination. "We might falter, we might struggle, and we might fall. But we will always take one, more, step."

"Because we have friends who met both sides of us," Said the Love. "And they still care."

"They don't know the truth," Said the Nothing. "They'll abandon us, just like the rest."

"I know their truth," Said the Faith. "They go out of their ways to support us. To care for us. To make us happy."

"I know our heart," Said the Confidence. "We are more than what we can not do. We are more than what we can not be."

"For our sake," Said the Nothing. "I hope you are right. I really, truly do."

"Me too." Said the Mother. "Me too."

The wires all crumbled to the ground, the mockery of her own fears melted to nothing. The Mother stood there in the street, letting the heat of her soul wash across the landscape. Never has one been so thankful for a move of the gods at her fingertips. The dark gloom remained, but the nightmare, the attempted death by her own very heart, gone.

"Now," Said the Mother, finally taking in another deep breath. "Where is my baby? I shall not ask twice."

Saint was paralyzed, gazing into the featureless plane of the behemoth’s face and barely catching the sight of something stirring beyond it. Clawing out of the center of the vortex, at the foot of the golden tower—another unspeakable creature. Its snapping body of burning flesh and wires turned to him as if scenting the blood frozen in his veins.

Saint could not think. He could not speak. Fear’s grip on his throat turned crushing. He was surrounded.

The monstrosity threw its head back with a grating metallic screech, its flames glowing as bright as benediction, cobbled legs soldered into steel rods that thundered across quicksand far too quickly, its blinding irises trained on him and him alone.

Trapped against the colossal’s leg, Saint clenched his eyes shut, wondering how much he’ll feel—will it be as slow as standing in a pool of acid? Or will it be quick, as a knife in his own hand?

Behind his eyes, a brightening light. Heat was already prickling the front of his face, and as the smell of rot and mold burned his nose, he braced for death.

A violent, resounding CRUNCH.

Saint’s eyes ripped open, astounded first by the fact he could even do so, then second by the massive wall that had appeared over him. Except it wasn’t a wall. And though they were piled on with moss, lichen, barnacles, and mushrooms, the alabaster rods were unmistakably shaped like phalanges and metacarpals. The giant hand flexed, and he could hear the metal beast howl in its grasp.

“Wh… What?” He watched as the hand lifted off the ground, its long arm almost floppy in its movements as it tossed the creature back from whence it came. The hand gripping the golden tower began pulling it once more, and the creature screamed as it was crushed and devoured back into the desert.

The giant had saved him.

“I don’t understand… Why?” He was staring at it now. At its smooth profile, no longer baring down on him, but gazing out unseeing to the desert, stirring and stirring as it had before he arrived.

Saint’s fist curled tighter in the lichen. “Hey! Hey! Why did you do that?! What are you!” The giant did not reply. Frustrated, Saint pulled his sleeves up, tying them to his elbows and began to climb, using the overgrowth and the cracks on its bones as foot and handholds. “Answer… me…!”

Again, no response. Saint’s thoughts raced in his head. Was this another creature of Corruption? But it had rescued him. And now it was acting completely indifferent to his existence, when before the corruption acted as if starved for life itself.

After what felt like a lifetime of navigating its vertical labyrinth of twisted limbs, Saint settled on what appeared to be a shoulder. Crashed, really—he was exhausted. He tried looking out and winced at the daunting panorama. Even with the sands, he would splat if he dared to fall.

“What are you even making?” he asked tiredly.

Vegetable Stew.

Saint wheezed, nearly throwing himself off the giant’s shoulder in shock. “Is that really the only way you communicate?” Like having a siren in his head—intrusive, loud, and deeply alarming.

The giant did not respond.

Saint cleared his throat. “Okay, okay… how about… What is the recipe for your vegetable stew? Um, please.”

Recipe For
Vegetable Stew

Prep Time:
5 minutes

Cook Time:
40 minutes

Total Time:
45 minutes

Yields
Serves 1

Ingredients

• ∞ pounds of sand
• 200 pounds of metal and organic scrap

Instructions

Mix well.

This is so fucking weird, Saint thought. It was as if something was controlling his imagination, the image of a little recipe card he would have never thought of popping up in his head. That, and it being the most deeply unappetizing vegetable stew to ever exist. He tried to tell it that, but the giant took no notice of him, following its sole instruction to infinity.

Saint closed his eyes. He grasped the image of the recipe card in his head, and pictured a pen.

Ingredients

• ∞ pounds of sand
• 200 pounds of metal and organic scrap

Instructions

Mix well.

The sound of the tower being dragged across the dunes disappeared. It all fell silent, but Saint didn’t open his eyes, taking advantage of the peace to focus.

Ingredients

• ∞ pounds of sand
• 200 pounds of metal and organic scrap
• Would it be okay if I were to change this recipe?

There was a beat. He heard the scratch of a pencil in his mind.

Ingredients

• ∞ pounds of sand
• 200 pounds of metal and organic scrap
• Would it be okay if I were to change this recipe?
• This is not a valid ingredient.

Saint opened his eyes. The giant had indeed stopped. The tower remained in the center of the dunes, gripped by a horrible hand attached to a mutilated horror who held his life in its hand, and the ground remained a long, long way down.

But this—

He could work with this.

He closed his eyes.

Ingredients

• ∞ pounds of sand
• 200 pounds of metal and organic scrap
• Would it be okay if I were to change this recipe?
• 1/2 lb. of squash. Why did you save me?
• I did not save you. I needed that which intends to harm you.
• 6 ounces of pork belly. Do you intend to harm me?
• There is nothing to be gained from harming you.
• 15 pieces of string beans. Then why are you here?
• I am here to meet you.