Brent Stinebaker
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14-21 Access
🕑 Added 2023-08-10 19:33:40 +0000 UTCThere comes a time when you look down at your gun, and realize it’s just not enough.
A flechette can kill someone from over the horizon if you got enough surge to your gun. But so what? So what? There will always be more half-strands tomorrow. And besides, with each death, you’re just feeding the beast some more.
New Vultun don’t care none for your little acts of vengeance. New Vultun just owns its maw and lets you kill and kill and kill as it grows larger and fatter and uglier.
With each life that is lost, the Guilds get that much stronger. But knowing this is good–first thing about hurting an addict is understanding their supply.
Pinch the deaths. Start up quiet operations to keep more folk alive. Make districts underperform in the Warrens so they start sending “auditors” down to see if things are getting too good for the uppity FATELESS.
Then, you start something. Might be a virus traced back to the No-Dragons. It might be a gutter war between rival Syndicates go out of control. It might be anything you can imagine. The point is, you gotta control the death rate to walk the animal and let me tell you, the Guilds’ll walk off a cliff if it means filling up a new golem for a day.
Force them to be predictable. Force them to play your game.
-Harlem Vaunders, “Rogue” Voidwatch Operative and Top of New Vultun’s Most Wanted List
14-21
Access
There was, in fact, no ambush waiting for Avo within the apartment. It was just a small three-room unit with a toilet, personal living quarters, and an extremely cheap jack-station quartered in a small ten-by-ten alcove.
Aside from the dormant locus slotted into the core of the station, the rest of the room stood barren beneath a sheet of dust. No furniture greeted Avo’s gaze, and even the showering units looked missing. Directing a Whisper to flood the jack-station with its perception, he beheld clamps coated in rust and filth.
This dead-drop looked like it had been abandoned for some time. The scene before him wasn’t promising.
In the periphery of his awareness, thousands of accretions began to move throughout the block. With the sudden vanishment Ashthroners, the residents were moving around again, confused and doubtlessly mystified with their present situation.
The nearest thought signatures were a scant ten feet away from him, but White-Rab severed his presence from their notice. It spared him the need to burden himself by running his Incog all the time.
Casting threads of ethereal flame into the silent locus, he consumed its properties and assumed its design. With but a thought he bid its systems to awaken, and around his ego he felt the station come alone with a bone-shivering screech.
Several of the clamps were jammed, and there was something wrong with the cooling system around the mold that embraced a Necro’s body. Foam-like lattices looked rotted through in places, making the entire thing look like a basin coated in mangled rubber. He doubted it would support any weight now, and the fact that it had atrophied so soon spoke poorly of its quality.
However, the new sequences that coiled down into his mind grew stalks of rising surprise.
For the miserable material conditions of this abode, the phantasmics and constructs he now could manifest were beyond value.
Access sessions for twenty-two slumbering nuclear-armed drones sparked into shape within the expanse of his awareness. Codes and the prototype for a non-material proxy mind became known to him, and an infusion of nine hundred and fifty million imps evaporated on contact with his mind. Strange, but Avo didn’t linger on the loss as the final prize teased away his thrill: within his consciousness now simmered an entryway into the Deep Bazaar.
The privilege of possessing such a phantasmic belonged only to those designated as trustworthy gatekeepers. Aside from Walton–and now himself–only Green River could open a path into the exclusive lobbies of Idheim’s most premier Deep Nether network. If he yearned to, he could open a way for himself and grow like never before. The temptation was near-unbearable as he considered the secrets he could glean and knowledge he could steal.
Secrets were more potent a weapon than Heavens when used properly, and these unspeakable details were the primary currency that flowed through the Bazaar.
It could all burn. It could all be his. With but a dip over to the other side, he anticipated immense returns before any Nether-disrupting countermeasures could stop him.
But strong as his lust for growth was, the voices in the back of his mind hauled hard in the other direction, begging him to heel, reeling him from the act of destroying the city’s most clandestine and efficient espionage network for a single injection of revealed enigmas.
[Don’t eat it half-strand! That’s waste!] Shadow-3 screamed.
Abrel, disgusted to be in agreement with a Silver, pushed through to give her say as well. [You can literally start wars with this. Your bullshit thoughstuff already melted nine-hundred and fifty million imps! Your father probably wanted you to use that and set up runs against the Guilds or something]
That… made quite a bit of sense.
Disappointment coursed through his veins. He didn’t use money much these days. What he wanted, he took, and what he could take, he–
[Mooched off the Sang and the Reg,] Osjack muttered bitterly.
Avo silenced the recently slain Fallwalker with a thought. He would not be judged by a lobster summoner.
[What the fuck? But… but you have my Heaven now! You can summon lobsters too!]
The difference was that Avo wasn’t completely worthless at using his miracles.
[Alright. Fuck. You.]
Osjack’s template was promptly loaded into a torture vicarity. His screams proved a delightful ambiance.
Attuning his cognition as he absorbed suggestions from each of his templates, new choices were presented to him, and he found himself faced with a few options to play with.
Right now, he didn’t have the means of transitioning between the fixed-ego being he once was and the post-consciousness he became. This gave him precious little opportunity to interface with the Deep Bazaar in any subtle fashion lest he wished to it ablaze from the bowels outward. What he could do, however, is share the mem-data in the form of phantoms with White-Rab or Denton, and have them serve as his operators.
A counterpoint exploded in his mind: he couldn’t monitor them without assimilating their minds into his. As much as he inherited Walton’s care for the Necro–and useful as Denton proved herself–the only reason he felt secure as he did in his relationships with them was that he had control. The unspoken truth laid bare, he appreciated them because he was a greater threat than they by far, and such a position offered him power and leverage.
To let them hold the keys into a kingdom of lies, however, was to court betrayal.
Instincts could only take one so far. He needed more than assurances he wasn’t going to be run through from behind. His presence needed to be an ironclad secret, and the nature of his cognitive ascension needed to remain a mystery so long as he could enforce it.
The moment Ori-Thaum or any of the Guilds understood what he was, they would start hunting for him, and for all the devastation he could wreak by contact alone, it took less than a breath of disruption for him to be undone.
Then, a peculiar thought came to him – a choice that was as shuddering as it was effective.
[Let’s just use Chambers,] one of his subminds chimed.
All the templates went silent. Avo himself shuddered uncomfortably. +Use… Chambers.+
[He’s willing. Mind’s malleable and enduring. Takes a lot to break. Hard to jack. And he will be willing to let us burn new knowings into him. We can mold him. Offer him choices to evolve and change between resurrections. Burn him every time he enters and leaves the Deep Bazaar. Nothing can be hidden from us.]
The submind was… right. Nothing it said wasn’t true. However, the cost was getting a template… of Chambers.
[Avo… Avo, listen to me,] Abrel begged. [I know things between us started bad, but don’t gotta do this. I don’t deserve to share a space with him.]
Benhata cut in immediately thereafter. [We should think about this. More. In detail. A–a discussion should be in order, and we should spend some time–]
That was all Avo needed. His mind was said.
[Fuck! No! This is your fault, you stupid shit.] Abrel’s mind rounded on Benhata as she cast her ire upon him. Avo let the rising howls of blame and rage fade into the backdrop of his mind as he felt a smugness descend upon them.
He directed his attention to where Osjack suffered, and whispered his intent thusly: +Don’t worry. Not going to be so much pain in the future. But other torments await. Other depravities.+
And thus did he allow Osjack to remember Chambers. And lo did the fallen Fallwalker wail in fear of the coming rash.
For now, though, the matter of the block war and dead drop were settled. Still, he had the final deed to accomplish, and a delivery to make before the daystar glared down upon the city anew.
“I’m finished,” Avo said. “No trap.” He cast out a few of the sequences and sessions connected to the drones using phantoms to visually represent his loot. As for the Deep Bazaar… That could wait until more enduring trust was established.
+Not bad, but… doesn’t see like his style,+ White-Rab muttered. +Strix I knew always liked using knowledge as a weapon. He left the fighting to squires and snuffers. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that those drone sessions were delivery items. Or part of a trade. Were there any imps stored in the locus.+ The resulting beat of hesistation served as answer enough. +Ah. How much?+
“A bit over nine hundred million,” Avo said, trying to keep the soreness of his loss hidden. “Part of my ego now. Burning.”
+Great. Wonderful. You know, some of us aren’t self-moving egos capable of snatching Frames and eating minds. Some of us still have things like “financial needs” and “bills to pay.” Would’ve been great if I jacked in instead of you wouldn’t it?+
Avo hummed. “What’s lost is lost.”
A rapier thin needle of perception jabbed at him. +Yeah. I can see him in you again.+
“What?”
+Neither of you like to apologize.+
“Walton? Apologize?” Avo asked.
+He was good, but he made some funny mistakes before. Had to pull him out from the fire more than once–not gonna lie, those were some pretty nova dives.+
Avo wondered why these memories were absent from his mind. Could it be that his father felt ashamed to be vulnerable? Or was it another protective measure to ensure the Low Masters couldn’t trace him.
He shook the thought off. “Have something that might make you feel better. Do you have a preference of Heaven yet?”
A low pause of consideration followed, but White-Rab spoke quickly thereafter, as if afraid he was going to lose the opportunity. +Reva said you could alter canons. Might I trade a new favor for a favor?”
Through it all, Reva’s face was funeral-solemn. A pallor had settled upon her features, and she regarded Avo more and more with tight lip glances and twitches of tension as he moved.
“Yes,” Avo said.
+I want the Heaven of War or geometry. The one that lets the guy cut people using perceived angles. But maybe, if you can, I’d like a higher Sphere Frame to go with it.+
Ah. Still, it was a surprising request. “Expected you to want the Heaven of Signals.”
+No. Seems like there’s a hard range to that, and besides, that’s a messy Heaven to have. Omnitech’s junk is the worst, and I have no idea about that “data sciences” stuff. All those numbers scare me.+
Understandable, but still surprising. “It won’t be a problem. What are you trading for it?”
+Free dive. You call, I answer.+
Reva’s face twisted with each word White-Rab spoke. Oh, but the other Necro was looking for an opportunity to continue working together. More than intrigued, his cog-donor was hooked. Enthused. Charmed, even.
What could Avo say? If he was to be shown a burning mind like his as the Necro he was, he too might become a moth to the roaring flame, jealous and enchanted by the promise of conflagration and Soulfire, seeking the nectar of the divine.
The influence gained from grand gifts granted generously afforded one with easy friends. This was a good lesson to bear.
“I’ll have something for you. Likely soon. First. We should properly meet. In person. Interested in your appearance. Curious of your shell.”
[Jaus, Avo, come on less hard. The Bloodthane’s gonna think you’re trying to poach more than her loyalty.] Abrel chuckled. He didn’t. Her amusement with the idea of him subtextually fornicating with his cog-donor was an annoyance at best and quite disgusting at worst.
Distant sirens passed through the halls, and both Avo and Reva turned to regard the encroach of new accretions through the walls. Signatures were marked and expanded by White-Rab, and the Necro cleared his throat. +You two should get gone before Highflame reinforcements show up. I’m dropping you a DeepNav marker for a location. I’ll be there waiting for you.+
As White-Rab spoke, Avo reached out into the darkness, and dipped his Galeslither into a pocket of shadows in which they hid the Harshlander aero. With a casual tug, he pulled into the veil of his own shadow and regarded Reva with a nod.
“After you,” he said, gesturing to his own silhouette.
Her stare lingered a moment too long for comfort, but she stepped in thereafter, posture unsure if she wanted to fight or talk.
TIme was what she needed. Time to clear her mind. Time to accept what he was, and the promise he presented.
For now, he plummeted into his own miracle and began his swim anew.
As the skies over the block filled with Highflame drones and golems manifesting their Heavens, an ebony tear flowed out from an external vent and dolloped down the side of the structure into a darkened alleyway.
Seconds later and a few miles away, a Harshlander took flight and blended into traffic.
Few knew where it had been. Fewer knew that in a stretch of its shadow hid an inventory of preserved Rendskins.
Settling into the couch again, Avo dug through Reva’s mini-fridge looking for a new experience to top off the raid. The Wight’ locus was dormant–White-Rab probably on the go right now and away from his jack-station.
“I’m not going to let you twist him,” she said, her words scarcely more than a whisper. There was enough strength in her tone that he knew she was willing to fight him, but not nearly enough to convince him that she believed her chances of victory. “Raldi. I see what you’re doing. I see your gifts and your acts and the way you speak to us. I see you.”
Swiping a claw over the fridge’s haptic interface, Avo decided to try the bear-branded drink Reva enjoyed earlier. His subminds told him that mirroring her prior behavior would have a calming effect on her.
The symmetry of the action would confuse her of his inhumanity if nothing else, Picking up the ice-cold beverage, he used one of his Echoheads as a bottle opener and slumped back in his seat. He met the other Godclad’s eyes with ease and poured the flavor of her favored drink down his long, sinuous tongue.
Stinging. Sweet. Honey-like.
It lacked the metallic tang he liked, but with a shift of his consciousness, the current taste became his favor. Altering preferences was like changing gloves for him now. It was just a simple action–no greater effort was needed.
“Want you to know that I appreciate you. Glad I met you.” He meant those words honestly.
A twitch ran through her face. “Why?”
“Because you’re honest. You don’t betray yourself. But you don’t hide yourself either. You remember that I’m a monster. You are sacred. You are prepared. Your eyes are clear.”
“Is this where we are,” she said, voice low. “Flattery? Honeyed words and honeyed mead and honeyed gifts. You think I’m going to betray Stormtree to you because of what you have? That he’s just going to listen to you because you… Share a few lines in your Metas?”
“No,” Avo said. “You will choose me because you care for him. Someday Stormtree will have you make a choice. One you can’t. And you’ll choose him because you have already chosen. You know what follows. He will choose me because I am the fire. And all men yearn to burn eternal. He is worthy. I will see him blessed. And from there we will be bond in ways that you and he will never be.”
A flash of cold anger rushed through her features. “You’re assuming. We don’t know each other, and you sure as hell don’t know what I’m capable of.”
He clicked his fangs together gently, softly, teeth clattering like mocking applause. “I could. I could know you.”
The implications of his words struck her, but she didn’t shiver nor retreat.
“I won’t,” he finished. “That’s how I lose him. And how I lose you. We aren’t enemies anymore. So. You’re outside my diet. But change that… Minds can be changed too. Raldi’s feelings can be altered. But I don’t want them to be.”
“You don’t. You don’t. Just talking about yourself.”
Avo leaned in. Her jaw clenched.
“Can you stop me from hurting you? Or him?”
She didn’t reply.
“Vulnerability is an ugly thing,” Avo said. “I know. From experience. I know.”
Comments
Wanderingforworks
I love Reva as a character, great addition to the story! Thanks for the chap!
Arcane
One possible idea for how Avo can switch between a Gestalt and Single Mind. Create a tower, (Pandora's Tower?) made of blood loci and move his flames within it. Then null himself and then resurrect as a single mind. There is precedent for structures surviving the flames. To become a gestalt again, all he need do is open Pandora's tower. This most likely isn't possible. Feel free to let me know if it isn't.
