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[DVFP] Hark, Infirmary! (J 4.1, S 4.1)
The drive to "Cyberville" took a couple days. Straight north, over the Funeral Mountains through Daylight Pass, past other natural barriers to travel. The United Front had all the best pathways in this sector, it was "theirs". Only Beckett's know-how, June's occasional insights, and Sierra's natural charm got you to Cyberville, really. Along the way, you nearly ran into several UF patrols. All of them heading south to south-east, armed to the teeth and riding fast.
DJ Gnarly kept you company when Beckett's shinies got boring. Reese didn't have the luxury of riding in Hackmobile since there was no room, so he rode backsaddle on Missed's bike. Rothschild rode in back of Hackmobile, Beckett drove. Who took the front seat with Beckett?
There at the intersection of old highway 95 and 374, just like Tum tum told you it would be, is the little nugget of a township called Cyberville. Before the DVFP, June, it was known as Beatty, population of 1,004 at the last census they took before the walls went up. Now? Now it's a collection of houses huddled together as a vassalage to the United Front. Where the infirm and the weak wear out their days. Where Parcher has a crop of subjects to test out new grotesqueries or just sculpt human flesh to his warped desires. The people here exist. They barely live.
June, what's one of the worst-looking cyborg people you see as you arrive at Cyberville?
Sierra, what did the little girl with bumblebee-like multi-faceted eyes say to you when she saw you?
There it sits, Parcher's shop. Nobody from the United Front here to keep him safe. He sits at the eye of a maelstrom that's moved away from him, leaving him naked and unprotected. And you've got several hard and armed folk here to take this place from him.
What do you do?
Comments
When we pull off into Cyberville, the stench is what hits me first, like baking flesh. Graks, it's terrible. It isn't quite like a dead body in the sun, but it's something similar and pervasive - impossible to ignore. I must go a little green, because Roth gives me a bit of a side glance. I straighten up as we get out of the car.
I look around at the kids, the folks here who look like permanent residents, and I raise an eyebrow at June. She didn't say anything about kids...
The little girl with Bumblebee eyes walks up to me and tugs on my dress. She's a small little thing with cinnamon skin and red curly hair. Her eyes, whatever color they once were, are an unnatural black now.
She motions for me to bend down and I do. Her little mouth is blistered and chapped and her voice is no more than a whispering wind when she says, "My mother was an Angel, like you. Now she's cold and in the ground. Fly away angel or he'll tear off your wings and take your pretty skin."
She runs away after that, back into her house. Leaving me with goose-flesh and a rare chill in the hot sun.
This rough route was punishin', but not as punishin' as a hail of UF bullets. I'm damn proud of our work together as a team. We've all been fully necessary at different points of this ride.
There were a few towns in the valley before the walls went up, and most of them are resettled by the DVFP residents, but not all. It's rare that I could find some untossed ranch in the wild, but often what I'm wantin' for in a scrounge trip is the stuff a raider leaves behind. Hard work and thrift, careful study. They give you opportunities.
Durin' the trip, Sierra rode in the front, and me and my folded up knees have ridden in the back with Roth (who gives me sass about how portable she is). Now that we've finished the final mile, I'm in the front seat so that this all looks like my business.
Cyberville. I thought it was a joke of Tum Tum's. Someone needs to tell that fugger he's not blazin' funny. One of the worst cases I can see out in the open as we roll towards the clinic is someone with bolts clearly going through their ribcage, like a failed pectus excavatum repair, and a support bar for their two metal arms welded on top. It's a clear struggle for her to breathe, even from a moderate distance. Every contact is inflamed, one might be septic. I'd give her days to live if it was.
I'm doin' real work here to keep my face on straight. I catch Sierra's look and give her a shake of my head. If I'd'a known..
There's the litter that gathers around a community of the infirm and uncared-for that I'm pickin' over with my feet and crutch-ends, but I pause to wave Roth close behind me and pass my relayer over to her. I promised. This way I can be with her, and she can pass messages from me.
Quietly, to Missed and Reese, I warn. "Keep an eye out for any security left, or any successful customers."
Over the air, to Roth, "Any vehicle that could help us haul these wretches out, you see it, you tell Beckett.
Oh, and lest you think I forgot (thanks to the wonderful player who reminded me), I'm asking what you spend for Lifestyle!
June needs me to be some pretty thing she picked up, unassuming and tempting as hell to Parcher? I can do that. I won't even think twice.
But the kids? I'm glad we are looking for a way to get them out. I don't want to deal in death, but killing Parcher seems more like Justice than a way of life. Or maybe we just maim the Vixaxn and leave him to rot. That sounds like Justice.
I softly place my hand on June's wrist, moving my thumb into contact with her skin, careful not to unsteady her. I put on my best vapid servile smile. "Ready whenever you are."
June, Missed and Reese are both wary. Reese hangs back, shotgun in hand, while Missed strides ahead, her six-shooter in her right hand. When you speak with her telepathically, Rothschild blinks, still unused to this method of communication, but nods like she got it, and heads at a jog towards a few nearby buildings, eye sharp for opportunities.
You step into Parcher's shop, which has a sign above it with no words, just cogs, wires and some weird-ass binary scribbles. The place smells like oil, piss, and rust. It's dark, no lights overhead, just the dim light of monitors set in some walls.
There are a pair of... people sitting together speaking without words. June, you feel spikes in the Feed, localized to them, like some mesh network. They don't look over at you, only looking at each other. Sierra, where have you seen something like this "outside"?
What do you do?
For a minute or two I've been worried that the hothouse flower of our team would wilt in the face of all this mortification. But Sierra bears up when it's time.
As for me, if someone were to cut me right now, fire might shoot out instead o' blood. If Beckett or Missed or Reese came up and whispered 'just let me shoot anyone who can fight and be done with it' I'd be sore tempted to let 'em at it. Lives are precious, though. Plus we don't know full certain what we're gettin' into.
I give the shacks and the ways to and fro here a careful eye, glance up in the eaves and across behind us. Approachin' as though I lived here, really, and was my own enemy. Where I'd put a relayer or a camera. Where I'd have someone wait.
All those UF bodies that ran hot towards the south.. puts a bad feelin' in my gut.
Sierra touches my skin, and I might protect her from any bleed-through of my scorchin' feelin's, but only slightly. "Let's do this."
I glance up real quick at the sign. I can read binary, you know, not like it's fuggin' hard.
"I say, is there a Parcher in here?" I ask the air, more or less, with these two tied up in each other.
I glance at Sierra and request with a flirtatious curl of lip and tone. "Would you get me a cigarette from my jacket, girl?"
Two barter spent on my lifestyle at High Rent. I must be a very important person now, or somethin'.
Also aglin' on a Read Sitch.
Rollin' Sharp: (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 5. Total: 11)
What is my Enemy's true position?
What should I be on the lookout for?
Which Enemy is most vulnerable to me?
When I see them though, for a second I can almost feel the weight of the sapphire and diamond collar Gloriana commissioned for me, her nails skimming the area where the gems meet my skin, her voice husky in my ear.
I have seen something like that before, we were at a charity party of sorts at Gryphon house. They were hosting a "freak show." Technological oddities and rare deformities placed on display. I remember one of the Gryphon lordlings bragging about having sex with the pair.
Gloriana had leaned in and whispered to me, This is where the world thinks you belong. Caged. You're lucky I love you so much, I keep you safe. Aren't you lucky, Sierra?
I remember, she had pulled hard on the collar making my eyes meet hers, just bottled rage brewing under her skin. I had whispered I loved her, I melted against her and kissed her neck, I even meant it at the time.
I'm leaning into June like that now. Molding myself against her as I giggle shyly, looking mischievous as I run my hand down the inside of her jacket, not missing the chance to graze my hand over the outside of her shirt, lightly touching her. I bite my lip, playing hard into my role as I find the cigarettes in her inner jacket pocket, taking one and placing it in between my fingers, bringing the cigarette to her lips, palm facing her so she'd have to kiss my fingers to take it from me.
The flirtin' might be false, but the frission is true; as she touches me, as I kiss the cig out of her fingers. Damn, this part is fun. I light up, testin' the limits of this clinic's tolerance of filth (but probably not by much).
Idly, I wonder if the twins in front of us are Parcher's substitute for proper anesthesia.
"Perhaps the master of this place has an allergy to jingle."
But Hoolies, I'm just a duck on a pond, inside I'm in a panic. My mind is going a hundred miles a minute and there are two things I think I know, 1. He has access, at least partial access, to the outside feed. 2. He might know what I AM.
June, how do you want to play this? I'll go with you, but he knew me, he used the word Skinner, that should be impossible. He has to have access to the feed. If he knows what I am, June. Please, help me get that information. "
My voice, in my own head it sounds a little desperate, but I keep my game face on.
"Keep it together. Lemme give you a tidbit in the meantime - what if you could make it so a person was born with what they needed to have a great soporific effect on other humans?"
Drawin' on my cig, I think a little. Probably a mistake, my brain tellin' me 'An' if you get the children out where do they go?' but also..got to tend to my reputation.
"Glory be, does this mean I'm famous? I'll get right to the metal of the issue. Tum Tum told me there was a cure for my legs to be had here. I could run or swim or even just walk and use both hands to do somethin' else at the same time."
Are these two the real Parcher or is he networked through them and sittin' pretty somewhere deeper in?
What is my Enemy's true position?
Parcher is using these twins like a speaker, camera, and mouthpiece. He is sitting pretty deeper within, and watching and talking from his little hidey hole. He's certainly got some weapons there and he's probably enhanced, but he wasn't expecting an attack.
What should I be on the lookout for?
Right now, Parcher's pinging the Feed, trying to get a signal out. It's a pre-programmed sequence, like a protocol of some kind. He could be calling for help, or he could be broadcasting.
Which Enemy is most vulnerable to me?
The twins are practically immobile, and they're connected to him. He can send a pulse through the line, too, so be quick and careful.
June, let's see you Manipulate Parcher into trusting you.
Rolling Hot: (Rolled: 2d6-1. Rolls: 1, 4. Total: 4)
Marking XP: (1)
I look towards the twins, fully appraising them. They are far more twisted than the pair I saw on the outside. I take a couple of steps towards them. "And what about me," I say quietly, looking the twins in the eyes, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure to meet anyone from the UF as of yet." My voice is honey and lilting.
OOC: READ A PERSON?
Oh ye of little faith and no connection. I can still feel the last tenuous piece of my hold on Mimi. I'm about to tell Parcher to kiss my lily white ass when Sierra steps up like she's goin' to rub the genie's lamp.
If I'm goin' to use the twins to attack Parcher without having to cut through his other defenses it will have to be soon. At least Sierra doesn't have a hand on me any longer. Any hint of rudeness from this creep and I'm cookin' him up.
Then an echo of that echo alongside the echo.
And an echo of that echo. And all the echoes in its wake. The sound vibrates through your whole body, and aches and you feel your mind pulling away from your body. Somehow, Parcher's pulling you into some twisted Augury.
What do you do?
One of the twins starts like she's waking up and turns her head to look at you with blind eyes. She is the one who has a human mouth, and she opens her mouth to speak, but there are no words. She opens it wider as if to scream. But no sound comes out.
You can Read a Person right now, yes.
Well, it's now or never, I have to defend myself.
"Sierra.." I try to work my voice, but it's uncannily difficult right now, like tryin' to button up a shirt with gloves on. I may be losing my balance. It would be damn embarrassin' to fall in front of her, I just have to hope she hears me and thinks clearly and does somethin'..
My mind is the only thing that feels firm right now, so I use it, I reach out with it, to cut through these ripples like a boat tackin' against uncertain wind, pullin' on the twins like a sail. "Get out here, Parcher, face us you carcass-hoardin' scum!"
(Rolled: 2d6+2 . Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 4)
What does happen when you look closely at the twin with a mouth trying to Read Parcher is that she finds a voice. A very familiar voice. Her lips move and you hear her, clear as day, her words, staccato and strong, "Sierra. Pet. You have dirtied yourself enough. I forgive you for being a poor slave. I will take you back now. Leave these people, and come to Parcher. He will bring you to me. He will bring you home."
What do you do?
"Oh, June Weaver. It amuses us how much power you contribute to yourself. We are stripping away your Skinner now. You have several augments we will add to our collection. If you beg, we will consider allowing you to serve as our assistant. The last one... met an unfortunate end."
June, you feel his presence, he has to use it in this mesh network, this augury, to touch you. If you can Act Under Fire, you might be able to reach him. Also, Reese seems able to function for some reason, but he's confused as hell right now and focused on Sierra who is staring slack-jawed at the twins.
Rolling Cool, +1 Read bonus; (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 5, 1. Total: 8)
Alright, you can move physically to where he is, but he'll be aware of this and you'll have to leave Sierra behind right now. Or you can try to meet him in The Feed, but then, well, there's other stuff there, too.
What route do you take to get to him, and what do you do then?
I need to clear my head, which in this case means getting people out of it.
I don't try to shield anyone, I just unbuttoned my coat and concentrate on trying to hear June through my panicked heart.
Sierra is using arresting skinner
Reese and the twins both freeze, and you feel the stunned interest of someone near you, also watching with rapt attention.
The sense of laughter bubbles through my mind. I see a way through to him on our own (I'll warrant) mutual turf. "Submission's not in my nature. I'll show you what I contribute to myself more personally. Get ready to earn it."
I'm not, despite what people might think, much of a fan of transhumanist diddlin' and fantasies about permanent uploads and so on - it's like telling a story with no setting, singin' a song with no emotion, a word without a definition, a sentence without context. Muck.
But I do like dives and temporary human abstractions. There's an aggressive excitement in me, wonderin', hopin' I'll see something exotic and new and not just puerile trash.
Your mind slips into the otherspace, the framework of The Feed. Millions of thoughts, hopes, dreams, slights, nightmares, and vitriolic brain spatterings comprise the playground of ego and essence. The place here and not here moves at the speed of thought and you are with Parcher, and he is with you.
"Look upon the dragon and despair, June Weaver." Parcher says as his invasive sortie of data-miners and worms flow forth into you, digging for secrets and pains. What is your greatest fear right now, June?
What do you do?
"Every Fafnir has his Siegfried." I can't do this on uppity bravado alone, though.
Plucking one worm off my persona as it tries to burrow away, I pull it apart, lookin' at its greasy code. Can't really stack software like this right now, because I haven't really written any since I've come into DVFP with my digital slate wiped. It's me and my improvisations, my willpower.
How I make it out of this is not, therefore, a referendum on how I code, but on who I am.
Perhaps I should be ashamed. My second greatest fear is that I lose here and this self-styled 'dragon' uses me to hurt my friends. My greatest fear is that I prove inferior.
"Want to see my own Nothung?" I use what I have, increasing my signal, looking for what resonates with Parcher and the nervous system attached to his mottled mind and stained beliefs. I compose a score of dissonance, and produce the notes of it, unseen strings singing in this false space.
He can aim for my secrets and I'll aim for his interface. A mind tricking the body. A body misleading the mind.
She called me a slave, she used to avoid using that term... I swallow roughly against the ferrying of heartbreak that rouses in me and push back the tears in my eyes. It was meant to hurt, she knows where to stick the knife.
Well, I do too. I ignore her completely.
I pop a second button and look around to see June gone, but everyone around me frozen. I call Reese's name, releasing him, hoping he will follow. I walk quickly, briskly, into the building going deeper.
"Parcher, where did you go? Very rude of you to not answer my question." My plan is to shed layers slowly - my jacket, my gloves, freely as I meet resistance, until I find June or Parcher.
"Your Gramr is dull. You are a lesser being. You cannot even master your body, June Weaver. The outside spurned you, and you gather a miserable flock to your pitiful self to ignore your own failings!"
When you enter into matrix combat with a foe, it is 0 or it is 1. Binary. Two enter. One leaves.You each exchange one Harm AP for each exchange in the spiteful conflict. Roll+Weird. On a hit, choose options. On a 7-9, choose two. On a 10+, choose three. On a 12+, you get them all!
- You deal two Harm to your opponent, but still suffer 1 in feedback (this can be chosen multiple times, if you can handle it)
- You strip a secret from your opponent's mind, it is yours now, not theirs. Take +1 Ongoing against them, the MC will detail the secret
- You learn more about The Feed and its inner workings, earn 1 XP
Reese does come to, and he follows you. You wind your way through a small hallway, the sound of a large truck rumbling outside, the whine of small computer fans echoing dully in here. You come to a door with a blue glowing light coming underneath, leaking onto the hallway. Parcher is beyond, and the door is locked. How do you get inside?
For that matter... how did June?
"The people I keep close to me are beautiful and deserving. You're the one who's pitiful - no matter what you do to yourself it leaves you empty, doesn't it? So you do to others, and the result is the same, but there are so many others and only one hollow Parcher.."
Rolling Weird, +1 from Read; (Rolled: 2d6+4. Rolls: 4, 2. Total: 10)
I'll take;
1 Harm from engaging with the move
1 Secret from Parcher
2 more Harm from ripping into Parcher for 4
"Think you can get in there, handsome?"
Reese shoulders open the door after a few tries and you come into a control room with a couple dozen monitors of varying sizes and clarity, all pointed towards a claustrophobic surgical table with a half-alive body lying on it with several cybernetic pieces shoved into parts that were hastily removed. Standing on spidery metallic legs by the table, a scalpel in his left appendage, is the creature you see above, and he is in a bizarre embrace with June. His eyes are flashing and pulsing as painful utterances issue from his mouth. He is slumping to the ground, his meatbody failing from the assault in The Feed June has unleashed upon him.
June,
You feel Parcher dying slowly, his synapses firing for the last time, his thoughts being overwritten, his essence subsumed by you. How does it feel when his last thoughts trail off into The Feed to be files away like a troll's flamewar from two decades ago?
How does it feel to extinguish him?
secret - Parcher is in direct contact with Sub-Warden Gloriana, and now you know her frequency.
Don't forget to roll the Harm Move!
Rolling Harm: (Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 5, 1. Total: 9)
The triumph of it is..really quite dull. I have to hold my feelin's to the side or I'll lose. It takes discipline to push his essence out of himself and not let it back in. To turn his interface against his metal-weakened body.
It feels like a surgery. I'm watchin' myself log failure states in the both of us. I'm notin' the slick feeling in my mouth and the coppery taste and carryin' on. My upper lip is wet and it feels like I'm cryin'. I have to finish this.
It hurts, but it's necessary, an' I won't turn back.
Both you and Reese see June blinking awake, coming out of the hazy fog of whatever she was doing with/to Parcher as he falls to the ground.
June,
You rouse to the waking meatbody world to see Reese and Sierra there, faces showing mix of shock and concern, and a dead subject on the table.
Both,
Outside you hear a truck idling and Rothschild comes in to tell you she and Missed got some wheels and a mobile trailer.
What do you do?
My eyes cast about the room, confused. How did I get in here? I suppose Parcher really wanted to get right to work dicin' me up, what with that scalpel. I lean back against the wall and pull a handkerchief out of my jacket to cough into. It blossoms up red.
"Well, good..good news. Pull e'erythin' outta heah an'.." I pause a moment, feelin' as bad as I sound. "..as many people as'll go."
The room tilts on me, and I press my back into the wall. I laugh deliriously. "Howz'at for an inferiuh bein', you piece'a shite?"
I look around, "Guess we should be grabbing stuff." I look at what I assume is Parcher's dead body. I can't seem to dredge up any feelings of guilt or regret. "Fracking piece of gorrem shite."
"Glad I did it.. anyway, now's your chance. Grab things. Convince people to leave if they're not rarin' to go. You don' look like a queasy vampire. Works bettah comin' from you." I lean on Sierra to say all this before tiltin' myself toward the foyer. So much to do. I need to see Roth and Missed, organize things.
You get to work packing things up, so does Reese.
Sierra,
The twins don't move. Parcher's death didn't "release" them, it more like set them on a loop. You're not sure how much of a "there" is there in them, if they were scooped out and left as husk-puppets, but they're not responsive. Gloriana doesn't talk to you through them again. Do you leave them or try to get Reese to carry them? And they're really attached, so moving them will be hella weird.
June,
What do you do?
I frown at Missed's news. Ugh, it's possible there's noone left to help. "He was the type to do that. If anyone seems lucid, I still want 'em to have a chance, but I hear you."
Ah, she did it. I smile, but stop when I realize my teeth must be pink. "You did real good, Rothschild. I'm goin' to need some tender care, but I'm not dyin' yet." This is..not my worst brush with injury.
I hold Roth up at the door and refuse to be led further. "I want to check his body before we go. Plus the monitors in here are worth somethin'..and..and..did you spot an antenna? Anywhere outside?"
I don't want the UF to keep control of an Augury antenna. Steal it or wreck it. That's what we need to do.
Back next to Parcher's corpse, I pause a moment to look over the surgery we interrupted. Sorry, whoever you were. "I might need your hands, Roth."
June,
"There should be an external construct on his scalp, near the visual cortex, that's his first link to the Feed." I take off my hat and draw a line on my own scalp about where it needs to be to function. "I don't think it'll stop his failsafes, but we ought to make it unrecoverable anyway."
"Then we've got some tools to steal in here. Then we're done."
I nod in approval of Sierra's decision. The girl with the multifaceted eyes seemed relatively whole, even if she's been in dire need of better care.
"She did?" I know that Sierra means Gloriana..and I know that Parcher had a direct line to Gloriana. Sheetfire. "I'll look them over when we're done in here." Surely there's something to see. Maybe between them there's someone to talk to, in that continuous mesh I felt. They may not be able to move on their own. "See if I can't give them some options."
I walk calmly walk over to the broken down shacks that were once houses, opening the door before gingerly stepping inside.
June,
Rothschild follows your instructions and slices off the parts of Parcher you want her to slice. She pockets a couple pieces, too, force of habit. Missed is busy grabbing stuff and throwing it in the Airstream trailer outside or she'd be watching with interest.
Both,
Reese is packing up whatever you tell him, Sierra, he doesn't know what any of this is, really.
Becks almost never uses her pistol.
Why don't you all give me an Act Under Fire here. One of you leads the roll, the other can help. On a 7-9, you need to leave one of these behind:
- the twins
- the bumble bee eye girl
You leave Reese working and walk off towards the house where you saw the bumble bee-eyed girl go. It's a shack, really, dank and dilapidated, no adults in here, hot from the tin roof and the sun overhead. She's evidently here by herself, and she's dug a deep hole in the ground in here with a makeshift shovel and set up her own little well. She's also growing a small cactus and you see where there's a big hole cut in it so she can scoop stuff out of it. It's not pretty, but she's a smart little thing that's figured out how to survive.
"Reese, if you an' Missed work together, a fireman's carry should get these twins out." I'm pocketing a few sensor leads and things desperately while nodding my assent to Rothschild - it's time to go.
I'll wait for Missed to come back in while havin' a seat on their little dais, seein' if they're hooked to power or anythin' else like that (waste, feedin') and make the call to disconnect them. Not pretty, but it takes what it takes.
"Gonna take you somewhere safe, where he can't hurt you. Okay?" She grabs her cactus, she really is a smart little thing, and I run out with her to the hackmobile, stashing her away. I see the hundreds of folks coming towards us and I understand why Beckett shot, some are simply monstrous.
I don't know if it will do anything, but I jump into the front seat of the Hackmobile, and start to take off my jacket ... actively shielding the rest of the team, it helps? Over half stop in their tracks, but some keep coming.
I turn to Beckett, but yell loud enough to reach Reese and Missed. "The ones still moving, those are the real.threat. Aim there."
The twins are functionally alive, if no longer independently sentient. They require sustenance and waste removal as well. They will become a fixture in your infirmary and will drain resources, but yes, Reese and Missed can move them into your newly acquired trailer, and they do so quickly and carefully. It's a hectic rush, and at the end, Missed is firing on bots while you all work on finishing up.
Sierra,
So many things to figure out later. I witness as Missed, Reese and Beckett take frugal shots at the biggest risks to our escape. I wonder how many fewer there would be if I'd done this six months ago. Probably not many, truth be told.
I nearly sleepwalk my way into Roth's new truck when Beckett hollers at me to not be an idiot and ride with her instead. Roth points me back in the Hackmobile's direction herself, even, so I blow her a kiss and follow orders.
That puts Reese in with Roth, who still has my relayer. It's some comfort, right now.
End Scene